The air in the High Flame Court shimmered with the tension of change. Elizabeth Stormborn stood atop the obsidian balcony, Solbrand sheathed at her back, her golden eyes gazing out over the gathered packs. Crimson Ridge pulsed with activity below, its stone streets lined with banners of silver, gold, and black. The symbol of the united packs, a blazing sun pierced by a crescent moon, fluttered in the wind.
But Elizabeth felt no peace.
The dream had come again.
This time, the forgotten god did not scream. It whispered.
A single word: "Soon."
Lucian appeared beside her, dressed in his battle-worn armor. Despite the crown that now rested on his brow, his eyes remained sharp, always scanning, always alert.
"You heard it again, didn’t you?" he asked, voice low.
She nodded. "It’s watching
