Silvercrest had never looked so alive—or so dangerous.
By midmorning, the mountain pack’s stronghold buzzed with controlled chaos as visiting delegations arrived one after another. Banners bearing unfamiliar sigils lined the stone corridors, their colors clashing against Silvercrest’s silver-and-blue crest. Guards stood at double their usual number, armor polished, expressions carved into neutrality. Every scent in the air was sharper than usual—foreign wolves, foreign magic, old rivalries stirred awake.
This summit was meant to signal unity.
Instead, it felt like a blade laid flat against a throat.
Aria sensed it the moment she stepped into the great hall.
The ceiling arched high above, supported by ancient stone columns etched with moon-runes that glimmered faintly under enchanted l
