Chapter FORTY-TWO

Dane I stepped through the towering dark mahogany doors of the Lycan King’s study, the weight of their enormity pressing against my back as they creaked shut behind me. The scent of burning cedarwood filled my lungs, thick and sharp, mingling with something more primal—something unmistakably Lycan. The room was dark, save for the flickering light of the massive fireplace that roared along the far wall. Shadows stretched long across the polished obsidian floor, twisting like living things as I moved forward. The towering shelves lining the walls were filled with aged tomes and scrolls, their spines worn from centuries of handling. Unlike the refined libraries of my palace, this space was not meant for leisurely reading—it was a war room disguised as a study, a place where strategies were forged and kingdoms were unraveled. At the center of it all sat the Lycan King’s desk, a monstrous piece of blackened oak and wolf-bone, carved with ancient sigils. Stacks of parchment, sealed letters,