A few months ago, in the elders' conference room at the Lycan fortress, six elders were gathered together with the Lycan King, Battal.
Their expressions were grim, carved from stone and shadow, even as they confronted him. The air in the room felt thick and heavy, charged with the kind of tension that could turn violent at any moment. The long stone table between them seemed to absorb the weight of every unspoken threat.
"You promised to bring us a more powerful white wolf, and for the first time, you have failed to keep up to your promise." The first elder's voice was sharp, cutting through the heavy silence with a force that left no room for soft answers. "Not only that, you also had two of our powerful witches killed like chickens."
Before he could finish his accusation, the second elder added his voice, the words dripping with disdain and a barely restrained fury. "You forgot to mention he had one of our warriors killed. Your promise to return the crown has also become wind."
