And somewhere, far off but drawing ever closer, the rumble of war drums echoed through the night, a primal rhythm that promised only chaos and death.
They reached Wald's chambers, and he barred the door with a thick beam of oak. Madison sank onto a chair, her hands shaking as she clutched the Supreme Lycan's grimoire. The leather-bound tome felt heavy, laden with the weight of its secrets.
Wald paced the room, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Blood dripped from his wounds, spattering the floor. "This attack was no random raid," he growled. "They knew our defenses, our schedules. Someone here is a traitor."
Madison nodded, flipping through the grimoire. "I found this in the archives. It belonged to your father. There might be something in here that can help us."
Wald paused in his pacing, his eyes narrowing. "My father's grimoire? He guarded that with his life. How did you get past the wards?"
