Keeping her eyes fixed on the horizon as the sun painted the sky in colors of red and gold, Elara said, "It's done."
Declan blinked, his sword blade lying in his hand. Echoing the subdued assurance of their triumph, he continued, "We've sent a message."
A quiet guardian to the disputes they had fought and lost, the castle loomed behind them.
Their group assembled, relief and fatigue mixed together. The night had been long, but a calm that was almost palpable had arrived with the morning.
One young werewolf, panting, ran towards them as they got closer to the castle gates.
A messenger has arrived, Alpha Declan, Elara, he cried out. He demands to see you right now.
Declan pulled the paper from the little wolf's shaking hands, his gaze narrowing. The wax still warm to the touch, the seal strange.
Opened, he looked over the hurriedly scrawled phrases. His voice getting stronger, he added,
