Dawn was still hours away, but no one in the mountain slept. The challenge Kael had thrown into the heart of the pack had already spread through the halls like fire under dry wood, carried on whispers, hurried footsteps, and the kind of fear that made even loyal wolves lower their voices. By the time Aira was led into the inner sanctum, every corridor felt charged with anticipation. She could feel it in the air, in the way servants bowed too quickly, in the way guards kept their hands close to their weapons, in the way no one looked directly at her for too long. They all knew what was coming. A public claim. A reckoning. A choice that would split the pack down to its bones. The chamber Kael brought her to was older than the throne room, carved deep into the mountain where Alpha bloodlines had once sworn oaths before councils existed. The stone walls were marked with worn carvings, old symbols, old vows, old wounds. The air smelled of iron and dust and something heavier than both, the
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