The council chamber pulsed with tension. Flickering torchlight cast distorted shadows over the stone walls, as if the fortress itself held its breath. Aria sat at the head of the war table, her hands steady on the carved oak, eyes scanning the faces around her—Kael, Jonah, Elder Maron, Captain Ilyas, and a dozen other leaders from packs across the region. The map between them looked like a battlefield already soaked in blood.
"Three of the border outposts have gone silent," Captain Ilyas said, voice tight. "We sent messengers. None returned."
Kael leaned forward, jaw clenched. "It's not Ronan's tactics. This is different. Quieter. They're not taking prisoners."
Jonah unrolled an ancient parchment. Symbols shimmered faintly along the edge, pulsing with eerie violet light. "The creatures from the altar… they were sealed centuries ago by the High Archan Circle. They don't follow the rules of our kind. They consume, corrupt, erase."
