The room was eerily silent, save for the subtle flicker of candle flames that cast shadows across the stone walls. Alaric sat on the edge of his lavish chair, lost deep in thought. His mind, usually a fortress of calculated strategy, was burdened with the endless complications of the vampire and werewolf worlds. The throne room, a space of power and command, now felt suffocating as the weight of his responsibilities bore down on him.
With his elbows resting on his knees, Alaric's fingers intertwined as he contemplated the next move against the families who had cursed Lucy. His eyes flickered with a mixture of anger and determination. The pieces on the board were moving, but not fast enough for his liking. And with each day that passed, the darkness seemed to press closer, threatening everything he had built.
