As the trumpets' final notes faded into the twilight, a resonant voice echoed across the marble courtyard.
"I am Loris, Grand Brasko of this esteemed institution. You may wonder which pack I hail from, but I implore you to set such distinctions aside as you interact with your fellow students within these hallowed halls."
His voice, calm and clear, resonated with authority.
"Each of you will be directed to your designated complex, accompanied by whomever or whatever you have brought with you. Take this opportunity to familiarize yourselves with one another and settle into your new surroundings. Lectures commence tomorrow."
The heirs of the Seven Great Packs dispersed, laughter and footsteps weaving through the courtyard like rivulets. Vesairus, however, lingered beneath the obsidian statue of Fanoga, the first Grand Alpha. Its weathered features and timeworn eyes stared out over the College grounds, like a silent guardian of unity and ambition.
His gaze drifted, curious. Then it landed—on Kaliana, daughter of Kazili.
He had never seen beauty like hers. Her skin, kissed deep and regal by the sun, shimmered with melanin richness; her hair curled like storm winds, thick and wild, crowned in gold clasps. But it was her eyes—luminous, green, defiant—that rooted him to the marble tiles. There was something familiar in them, something ancient.
His breath caught in his chest.
Suddenly a gentle voice stirred him.
"Heed your father's words."
It was Oliver, his steward and guardian, holding a velvet-lined box inlaid with seven golden claws—the tribute from Zuganis.
"These halls are a battleground of smiles, Vesairus," Oliver murmured, eyes flicking toward Kaliana. "Alliances here are forged and broken over dinners, duels, and dances. With the right guidance, you'll learn to read more than just books."
Vesairus exhaled and gave a short nod, casting one final look at Kaliana's retreating form before following Oliver down the path.
"Come, let's get you settled. You've a long road ahead, and rest is your first weapon."
---
### Settling In
The Royal College was more than a fortress of stone—it was a kingdom within a kingdom. Towering dormitories, libraries lit with moon-crystal lanterns, and halls of sparring, magic, and diplomacy sprawled like veins across the mountain plateau.
As they walked, gravel crunched beneath their boots. The sun bled orange into the western sky, casting long shadows that danced with memory.
Oliver guided him to the Zuganis suite—a high-vaulted chamber with an oak hearth and walls carved in forest motifs. Flames licked gently at the logs. Attendants bowed as they arranged Vesairus's gear, his armor, and books.
"Rest well, Vesairus," Oliver said, offering a proud, fatherly smile. "Tomorrow, your journey begins in truth. Knowledge is power—but wisdom is knowing how to wield it."
Left alone, Vesairus stood by the window, watching torches flicker in distant towers. The College pulsed with life and hidden intent. Somewhere in the north wing, Kaliana would be unpacking. Somewhere in the towers, plans would already be forming.
He closed his eyes.
---
### Secrets in Windorous Keep
Far from the youth and promise of the College, in the highest tower of Windorous Keep, shadows cloaked the Grand Alpha's chambers.
The scent of crushed herbs and burning sage lingered beneath velvet drapes. Dabrin, the royal healer, pressed trembling fingers to the Grand Alpha's fevered brow.
"Little duties like this should be left to ministers, don't you think?" he said softly.
The Grand Alpha's voice rasped, worn and tired.
"Welcoming the heirs of the Grand Pack is no little duty. It is the breath of Horgara's future. It would shame me to delegate it."
A pause, then a heavier confession:
"I have no heir. And can have none. When I am gone... I fear what remains. No Grand Alpha has died heirless—not in ten generations. Must I be the one? The broken link in the chain?"
Dabrin leaned forward, tone gentle but firm.
"Oh, Wazili... Children are gifts from Ovina, the Great Wolf who bore the seven packs. Do you truly believe you've been forgotten? The gods are not so cruel."
The Grand Alpha looked away, his hand clenching the fur sheets.
"Then tell me plainly, old friend. How long before this... thing... kills me?"
Dabrin hesitated.
"It worsens daily,Wazili.....how much longer I cannot say. But there is still time. Time to search, to heal. Hope is not yet dead."
He offered a small sachet of herbs. The Grand Alpha took it with trembling fingers.
As Dabrin turned to leave, the Grand Alpha's hand shot out, clutching his wrist.
"No one must know. Not even Azra. She carries her heart on her face. The packs would scent weakness and tear apart like wolves in snow. Swear it, Dabrin."
The old healer bowed.
"As you command, Wazili. This secret dies with me. Though it pains me to deceive the queen... I understand. I will guard it with my life."
A tired smile tugged at the Grand Alpha's lips.
"Thank you, old friend. Vila-Tahari."
"Ovina-demsaka," Dabrin replied.
The door closed behind him. Silence returned, broken only by the low wind scraping across the tower stones.
And the slow, unyielding ticking of fate.