The world did not erupt all at once.
It tilted.
Across dominions, packs that had lived for centuries by shared borders and inherited nonaggression began to shift—territory lines redrawn by whispers, by fear, by Heaven’s single, devastating decree.
Neutralize the Queen.
Some heard execute.
Some heard contain.
Some heard deliver her to Heaven and be spared.
And some—very few—heard something else entirely:
If Heaven can no longer strike directly, then mortals now decide the shape of the next age.
By nightfall, Blackthorne was no longer merely preparing for war.
It was preparing to be chosen against or stood beside.
There would be no fence left to stand on.
The first emissaries arrived before dusk.
Three packs.
Three intentions.
The Stonefall emissary came openly, unarmed, her h
