Chapter 50 The Gathering Storm
- The war room pulsed with low torchlight and the weight of anticipation.
- Heavy oak beams arched over the long stone table at the room’s center. Maps lined the walls, some newly printed, others yellowed with age and marked in wolf blood and battle soot. The scent of cold iron and old parchment mingled with pine smoke curling from the fireplace.
- But it was the silence that said the most.