Brynn
The morning sun rose like a golden crown over the Fiato mountains, casting its light down the slopes in shimmering sheets. From where I stood, at the edge of the grand stadium that had once witnessed our ascension as kings, the world seemed to hold its breath. The same place that had roared with battle cries years ago now shimmered with ribbons, flowers, and banners. The air was no longer heavy with tension or bloodlust but alive with laughter, chatter, and the scent of freshly baked bread wafting from the makeshift kitchens below.
Workers moved like a well-rehearsed symphony. Wolves and humans alike carried crates of crystal goblets, gold-edged plates, and towers of white roses. The royal crest of the Fiato Kingdom gleamed in the morning light, embroidered in gold on the silken ba
