Greyhaven slept under a blanket of unease.
The Wolf's reach had silenced its streets, yet the city's heart still pulsed with whispers.
Aren summoned his captains to the cathedral.
The Shadow Army, silent and unseen, gathered from north and south, from hidden corners of the kingdom.
"Tonight," Aren said, voice low and deliberate, "we consolidate our power. Not with blood, but with fear and loyalty. The kingdom bends not to the sword—but to shadows."
Lysa checked her bow.
"Do we need to strike?"
"No," Aren replied. "The Wolf's hand moves silently. The court and the provinces will obey without a single clash. This is the strength of our gathering."
Caelis spread a map across the stone floor.
"The northern and southern lords are under control. Greyhaven bows silently. Only the eastern trade cities resist."
Aren's gaze sharpened.
"They resist in thought alone. Whispers will break them. Shadows will guide their obedience."
Even Tom, hardened by years of stealth and strategy, felt the weight of this moment.
"We are stronger than ever," he said softly.
"Yes," Aren said. "But the strongest webs are woven slowly. And tonight, we tie the first threads of the kingdom together, unseen and unbroken."
Outside the cathedral, the city lay still.
Every alley, every street, every roof held eyes loyal to the Wolf.
Greyhaven itself had become the spider's web.
Aren lifted his hand toward the moonlit sky.
"The Wolf gathers," he whispered.
"And soon, the crown itself will be bound in our shadow."