In the underground room, dimly lit by flickering torches, the werewolf elders sat in a semicircle. Their faces were etched with lines of age and burden, their eyes filled with memories of battles lost and power once held. A deep sense of mourning hung in the air like a heavy fog.
Suddenly, the heavy doors at the far end of the room creaked open. Kelvin, tall and imposing, stepped in with a sense of urgency. His boots echoed as he walked toward the center of the room, and the elders' murmurs halted as they turned their attention to him.
"Thank you, everyone, for coming," Kelvin began, his voice firm but with an undercurrent of excitement.
"Kelvin, why have you called such a meeting?" one elder growled, his voice gruff. "Do you know how risky it is for us to gather like this?"
Another elder, her sharp eyes narrowing, added, "We've stayed hidden for centuries, out of sight and out of danger. Why now? Why the urgency?"
