AUTHOR'S POVThe council chambers stood at the far end of Frostfang's main corridor, hidden behind doors older than most of the pack's living members.They were carved from heavy, dark wood and etched with symbols of victory and conquest—the kind of doors built to remind anyone who crossed their threshold exactly how insignificant they were before the Council.As a child, Seraphina had believed those doors led to greatness. Maybe because her father had always told her that only wolves who changed history were invited beyond them. Back then, she had walked through them with stars in her eyes.Tonight, they felt more like the jaws of a beast waiting to swallow her whole.Even so, she kept her chin high.The last thing she needed was for the elders to catch even the slightest hint of the disdain simmering beneath her calm facade. They had a way of sensing weakness long before it ever reached the surface.It was a mask she had perfected years ago.As her footsteps echoed across the stone
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