Night was a silent abyss over the mountain.
The Iron Blood castle rose embedded in the rock like an ancient sleeping beast, with its towers emerging through the mist that descended from the cliffs like fingers of frozen smoke. The entire world seemed to have held its breath.
Damian advanced alone to the highest point: a narrow ledge from where he could watch over the entire valley. The wind struck like blades, tearing at the black cloak he wore over his shoulders. There, where solitude had teeth, stood the communication bonfire: a circle of black stones, engraved with lunar runes that only responded to an Alpha's power.
The wood inside wasn't common wood, but branches treated with moon essence, liquid silver, and ancestral wolf dust: a fire capable of transporting messages thousands of kilometers without being intercepted. A privilege... and a curse for whoever had to use it.
Damian knelt before the bonfire.
