The meeting had concluded, but neither leader departed with a sense of ease. If anything, they were burdened with new questions, the weight of unresolved matters pressing heavily on their minds.
In the grand, frost-laden halls of the werewolf kingdom, Wulv now sat upon an imposing ice throne—the very seat once occupied by his father. The crystalline structure gleamed under the soft, ethereal glow of the stars visible through the high-vaulted ceiling. Yet what stood out most was the constellation behind him, an intricate celestial pattern etched into the air itself. It pulsed faintly, its presence becoming an ever more frequent sight ever since Wulv had taken his place as ruler.
This was the gift of his constellation. The power granted to him, one necessary if he was to lead his people in the times ahead.
But now, after the encounter with Zirikon, his thoughts were consumed by a single, troubling question.
