Aeron's POV
The candlelight flickered gently across the edges of the parchment as I dipped the quill once more, letting the black ink soak into the paper with practiced grace. My strokes were steady and Precise. Every curve of each letter carried the exact tone I wanted: respectful, polished and grateful.
"To Alpha Rhys of the Black Ridge," I wrote, "Your words of goodwill have reached us at a most meaningful time. We are honored by your acknowledgment of the Silver Dawn Pack's return to its rightful place, and we warmly extend an invitation to our formal coronation five days hence…"
My lips tightened slightly as I signed the name at the bottom—my own, Aeron Duskdraven, First Alpha of the restored Silver Dawn.
It was the third such letter I'd written this morning. All with nearly the same meaningless flattery in different packaging. The same alphas who now lined up to grovel at our feet had once praised Alpha Eirik like he was the moon incarnate.
