A pale autumn sun gilded the marble amphitheater where Bloodmoor's citizens gathered to commemorate the first anniversary of the Empire's Covenant. Torches burned at each column's base, saint-ash embers nestling in iron braziers—symbols of unity rekindled after rebellion's ashes. Marin Ashveil stood at the edge of the dais, cloak drawn tight against a crisp wind. Elias Bloodmoor paced beside her, crimson eyes alert.
“Today, we honor lives saved," Elias announced, voice echoing against the limestone tiers. “And we reaffirm our vow to justice, wisdom, and empathy."
A respectful murmur rippled through the crowd. Senators, warriors, scholars, and pack elders nodded in solemn accord.
Marin pressed a hand to her ceremonial scroll—her vow etched in ash-grey ink. She tapped her palm once—“Liste
