The office of the Commandant of Gravemont was exactly as one remembered.
Dark oak walls, with towering shelves filled with records and ancient texts. Multiple trophies sat in one corner of the rooms, and weapons were mounted across stone pillars from forgotten wars.
The massive windows behind the desk overlooked the academy grounds where hundreds of male wolves trained below like soldiers preparing for war.
Even from this height, the sound of combat echoed upward, and the stench of blood filled the air.
Gravemont resumed one week ago.
And already, students were bleeding.
As expected.
Commandant Draegor sat behind his desk, scanning through several files while the atmosphere in the room remained tense
Opposite him stood Sylas Veylor
Or rather, Zevon Pendragon.
Though within Gravemont, no one dared call him that openly. To them, Zevon was more a myth than a man.
