Rylan’s POVI knew something was wrong the moment my boots crossed the threshold into the high corridor outside the council chamber.Usually, the marble hallways echoed with the sharp snap of sentry boots, the rustle of dry parchment, or the low, rumbling baritones of Lycan commanders debating territory logistics.Today, the air felt stagnant. As I drew closer to the heavy, iron-bound oak doors of the chamber, muted voices began to filter through the thick wood. The council room was rarely occupied after the dawn briefings, but what made me pull up short wasn't the mere presence of an unscheduled meeting.It was the tone of the delivery.It was the distinct cadence of someone choosing their words with agonizing precision, treating each syllable like a glass blade that might shatter if dropped too heavily.I stopped a mere three paces from the threshold, my back pressing against the cold stone of the corridor wall.Her voice cut through the gap in the heavy double doors."…I understan
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