The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the opulent throne room as King Declan leaned forward in his seat, a frown creasing his brow. "Ethan," he rumbled, his voice heavy with skepticism, "why on earth would you suggest such a thing?"
Ethan stood tall, his gaze unwavering. "I understand, Your Majesty, that Blackwood has always been our enemy. But this isn't a request for peace out of some misplaced sense of goodwill. I'm talking about survival. I can feel it. The vampires we faced yesterday… they were a mere skirmish compared to what's coming."
A murmur rippled through the gathered court, a mixture of disbelief and unease settling on their faces. Fear flickered in the eyes of the assembled werewolf nobles, veterans of countless battles. Ethan's words, laden with a chilling certainty, hung heavy in the air.
