Aria’s POV

    The war table stretched before us like a battlefield in miniature, a sprawl of parchment, inked borders, and crimson markers scattered across the map like spilled blood. Torches guttered along the walls, their mes hissing and bending, shadows wing at the stone ceiling above. Every detail of the chamber whispered war–steel along the walls, armor resting at the ready, and the sharp tang of blood and oil that never seemed to leave this ce.

    Acdric stood at the head of the table, broad–shouldered and unyielding, his palm pressing firmly against thends we had already conquered. His voice, low and measured, carried the weight ofmand.

    “The East,” he said, and the word itself hollowed the chamber, dragging the air into silencei. /i

    A ripple of unease moved through the gathered generals. Even the most hardened among them shifted in their chairs, jaws tightening, shoulders stiffening. Their silence said more than fear would have–because to speak of the East was to summon an old shadow.

    Stormridge.

    And the Alpha who ruled it–Lucien.

    Aedric’s gaze swept the table like a de. “Do not underestimate him. Lucien is not like the others we’ve crushed beneath our boots. Hemands more than men. Hemands the storm itself. To face him unprepared is to court death.”

    At the mention of his name, something moved in me. A blurred silhouette in the fog of memory–too faint to grasp, too haunting to ignore. It was as if some forgotten part of me stirred awake, whispering that I had once known him, once lost him, though such a thought was madness.

    A general cleared his throat, the sound rasping in the tense quiet. He leaned forward, a flicker of defiance -or recklessness–in his eyes. “With respect, Alpha, Stormridge no longer stands as it once did. The Eastern Triad is broken. ckmaw lies fractured. And Ebonw…” His voice lowered, as though speaking the name invited ghosts. “Ebonw once had a white wolf. A rare one. But—”

    The weight of Aedric’s stare cut him off instantly. The words died in his throat.

    My pulse sharpened. My eyes pinned him like prey. “But what?” My voice was steady, though fire burned beneath it. “What happened to the white wolf?”

    The man shifted uneasily, throat working. “She… she died.”

    The simple words struck like ws to my chest. My lungs clenched, as though I had taken the blow myself. A hollow ache expanded inside me, a pain that felt unearned yet undeniable. “How?” I demanded, my tone dropping low, my fingers curling into the edge of the table. “How did she die?”

    No one answered. Eyes slid downward, avoiding mine. The silence grew heavy, suffocating, as if every man here knew the truth yet feared to breathe it aloud.

    Before I could force it from them, footsteps thundered down the hall. The great doors swung wide, and the chamber shifted as a presence strode in–calm,manding, undeniable.

    11:25 bpm /bP

    Professor Marryn

    Her cloak swirled around her ankles as her sharp eyes, cold as winter frost, cut straight to me. Her voice rang clear, filling the chamber without effort. “She was betrayed. By her own blood. That is how the white wolf perished”

    The words carved into me like a brand. Painnced through my veins, fierce and inexplicable 1 pressed ia /ifist to my side. but the ache remained, gnawing deeper. Betrayed by her own blood. The thought coiled inside me like a serpent, whispering truths I could not ce.

    “Enough.” Acdric’s growl shattered the moment, sharp and furious. His gaze locked with Maeryn’s, a warning smoldering in the air between them. Remember what you swore.

    Maeryn’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she said no more.

    I barely heard them. My mind was a storm of grief and rage, grief that did not belong to me but felt as though it had been carved into my bones. My heart thundered, each beat echoing with a pain I could not

    name.

    Then the chamber doors burst open again–this time not withposure, but with chaos.

    A Gamma stumbled in, cloak torn, blood soaking the fabric. His breath rasped in gasps, his eyes wide with urgency. “Intruders on the border!” he cried. “By their scent–it is the East!”

    The chamber erupted. Gasps broke out, chairs scraped against stone, voices rose in panic.

    “It’s Stormridge!” another spat, voice sharp with fear. “It’s Alpha Lucien!”

    For a moment, even the bravest of them looked stricken. The air thickened with dread.

    Aedric’s expression hardened. For the briefest second, shock flickered in his eyes, then vanished, buried beneath steel. He straightened, his voice rising above the chaos, firm and unyielding.

    “So, the stormes to us.” His tone cut through the room like thunder. “Let it.” He mmed his hand onto the table, the map quivering beneath the force. “We are not the ones who should tremble. We have Aria. The white wolf of the West. With her, we are unstoppable.”

    All eyes turned to me. Expectant. Trusting. Terrified.

    And in that moment, something ignited inside me. A fire that burned away the fog of doubt and grief. Fear, rage, and sorrow twisted together into something sharper, stronger–a resolve that demanded blood.

    I stepped forward, my voice steady though my pulse hammered. “Then let me prove it. Let me face them.” I let my gaze sweep across the room, daring any to challenge me.Then I put on my own mask “I will fight.”

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