The air in the council chamber was heavy with tension, the firelight from the braziers flickering across stone walls etched with ancient runes of protection. Aria stood at the long table beside the triplets, her hands flat against the polished wood as her gaze moved from one Alpha to the next. They had gathered here—the allied Alphas, emissaries, and warlords who had pledged loyalty—to decide their course after the Flameborn crown's awakening.
But not everyone at this table carried loyalty in their hearts. Aria could feel it in the bond—the undercurrent of suspicion, greed, and fear swirling like a storm ready to break.
Dorian's voice cut through the silence, smooth but edged like a blade. "The crown does not just awaken power—it awakens enemies. The Flameborn legacy is bound to draw every rival house, every hidden traitor, out of the shadows. We need unity, not hesitation."
