The sun had barely reached its highest point when the royal council chamber fell under a heavy silence.
The air was tense, the kind of silence that only came before a storm — one that threatened to sweep through not just the palace but the entire lycan realm.
King Lucian the Lycan King of Varynth, ruler of alphas and sovereign of all lycans, sat on his throne — a massive chair carved from obsidian stone, lined with wolf insignias and runes that glowed faintly in silver. His eyes were as cold and unreadable as a frozen lake.
Across from him stood Alpha Darius, shoulders squared, his jaw clenched as he struggled to keep his composure. His crimson cloak brushing the marble floor. The scar that ran from his left ear down to his jaw gave his face a permanent air of defiance, and his aura, though commanding, still bent beneath the overpowering dominance of the lycan king.
