The following day dawned with a strange heaviness in the air, as though the wind itself carried whispers of impending doom. By midmorning, the entire castle felt it—a weight pressing down upon the walls, upon the hearts of every wolf who walked its halls.
The silence of the court was broken only by the hurried footsteps of a messenger, his chest heaving as though he had run miles without pause.
He fell to his knees before the throne, where Aldus sat with his head slightly bowed, his expression unreadable. The golden eyes of the Lycan King flickered like a firelight, sharp and penetrating as they locked on the trembling figure kneeling before him.
"My King," the messenger began, his voice strained with urgency.
"Alpha Aldrake has filed a petition with the Elder Council. He demands that the trial be moved forward. He insists it begins tomorrow."
The words echoed through the grand hall like a thunderclap.
