The neutral border fortress of the Supernatural High Council sat atop a desolate, jagged cliff where the wind screamed like a dying wolf. Inside the grand obsidian amphitheater, the air was freezing, lit only by the flickering glow of ancient ceremonial torches. High above the stone floor sat the three Grand Elders of the Council, their faces shrouded in silver hoods, embodying centuries of absolute, unbending law. Surrounding the lower tiers were the Alphas of four major territories, their dominant auras clashing in a chaotic display of growling dominance.
In the center of the pit stood Alpha Devandra. He was flanked only by Marcus and Jaxon, yet his presence was a towering, immovable shadow. His golden eyes, lightly veined with the remaining traces of his crimson fury, calmly scanned th
