"A king's silence weighs more than a thousand shouts."
Absolute Silence. The kind that is not born of peace but of power, raw and suffocating, and the royal chambers were heavy with it, every breath of my council caught in their throats as though the very air was bound by chains. They stared at me, some with fear, some with awe, and some with the desperate calculation of wolves already wondering how to turn the tide.
I did not rush to break it and instead, I walked, slow and deliberate, back toward my chair, the throne carved from obsidian and silver, forged from the bones of kings who came before me. My steps echoed in the vast chamber, each one a hammer driving into their chests, each one reminding them who ruled here. Vayne moved with me, my wolf radiating his power, and the veil of his presence pressed down on every wolf in the room. Even the Elite guards, who were trained to resist, bowed their heads under the weight of his dominance.
