Chapter Fourteen
The next day, Tom woke up in a vast stone hall where each wall held a burning torch that pushed the darkness away, revealing a room both majestic and terrifying.
Three figures sat before him on gold-plated chairs — a man, a woman, and a boy. The man wore a massive crown that gleamed under the firelight. Elders stood beside them, cloaked in thick robes, clutching books tightly against their chests. Their presence was solemn, almost holy, like ancient priests guarding forgotten secrets.
Tom's pulse raced. Even without being told, he could tell the man with the crown was someone of immense importance — perhaps a king.
The crowned man's deep voice echoed through the hall.
"Pure blood… what are you doing on this side of the forest?"
Tom's breath hitched. His mind spun as he glanced at the enormous wolves behind him — creatures with gleaming eyes and low growls vibrating through the air.
"I— I got lost on my way home, sir," he stammered, his voice trembling.
