Edron, Alpha of the Silver Pack, sat motionless at his work table, a king carved from winter itself.
The table was positioned before a towering window that framed the snowlands in all their cold, merciless beauty. Beyond the glass stretched an endless expanse of white fields buried beneath thick snow, skeletal trees standing like silent sentinels, and scattered blooms of frostflowers, faintly shimmering in silvery blue beneath the pale sky. It was beautiful in the way a blade was delicate, cold and unforgiving.
Inside the chamber, warmth fought a losing battle against the ever-present chill. A fire crackled in the hearth, its orange glow licking across stone walls and polished wood, casting long shadows that swayed like restless spirits.
The scent of burning pine hung in the air, sharp and grounding, yet Edron barely noticed it. His attention was fixed on the map spread across the table before him, a map of the great continent of Ronia Cresus.
