Alaric sat on his throne, the room bathed in the cold light of the moon filtering through the high windows. His fingers drummed rhythmically on the armrest, his mind deep in thought. The recent capture of the Silverclaw family had shifted the balance of power among the werewolf families. The ripples of this would not go unnoticed.
Gilbert entered the room quietly, his footsteps barely audible. He carried with him a sense of urgency, his usually composed demeanor now tense with concern.
"My lord," Gilbert began, bowing slightly before continuing, "there is something happening within the werewolf families. Rumors have surfaced that the Nightfang family is preparing to call a meeting where all the werewolf families will gather."
Alaric's eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening. "A meeting?"
