JELENA
The heavy oak doors groan in protest as I push them open and the sound echoing through the space is loud. I pause on the threshold, blinking as I take in the sheer scale of the dining hall, it is less a room and more a sprawling, stone-hewn hall designed to swallow whole armies. The ceiling vaults high above, lost in shadows, while the walls are adorned with the faded, ancestral banners of the North Pack.
Running down the center of the room are two big tables, polished to a mirror sheen and stretching so far into the distance that the far ends aren't in sight from where I stand and the atmosphere is thick, heavy with the scent of roasted meats, cedar, and the palpable tension of two rival packs held in an uneasy truce.
To my left and right, the North and West pack members are sea
