Over the next few weeks, the kingdom of Meria did not simply change, it shed its skin.
What had once been a structured, human-dominated monarchy slowly warped into something unrecognizable, like a familiar face twisted by a dream you couldn't wake from. The banners still hung from the castle walls, the bells still rang in the mornings, the markets still opened at dawn, but the soul of the kingdom had shifted.
Where once humans had stood at the helm of power, issuing commands and writing laws, now they lingered at the edges of authority like ghosts haunting their own homes.
The council chambers, once filled with aging men in velvet robes and powdered wigs, now echoed with deeper, sharper voices. Lycans dominated the highest seats, their towering frames and predatory gazes turning every meeting into something that felt less like governance and more like restrained warfare. Their presence alone bent the atmosphere, thick and heavy, like the air before a storm breaks.
