The Alpha's Plump Mistake
Right over his heart — no ordinary birthmark, no northern wolf‑rune — burned The Key of the Firmament: a living constellation of seven stars arranged in a perfect spiral, glowing crimson and gold.
Before I could ask if he knew it — the seven stars pulsed rhythmically, pointing not down to earth, not down to the abyss — but straight up, toward the heavens.
Far above, in the turning sky, a rift of prismatic light tore open the fabric of space. A figure clad in star‑metal armor descended like a falling star toward the mountains — bearing the banner of an empire not of this world.