As the sun prepared for a blood-red farewell over the snowy peaks of the Alberta forests, the valley was transformed into a raging inferno by the flickering light of thousands of torches. This was not merely a ceremony; it was the violent collapse of the ancient world of Wolf laws and the brutal birth of Varg's savage empire. It resembled a magnificent coronation, but there was no nobility to be found here—only raw, unadulterated power and wolf blood held absolute sway.
Looking down from the massive stone balcony of the mansion, the view literally stole the breath from my lungs. Banners snapped in the cutting wind like executioner's nooses. Varg stood beside me, his towering silhouette a mountain of death inside his heavy armor. His massive, iron-like hand gripped my waist like a vice, a silent, unshakeable declaration of his claim to the entire world.
