The air of the war room in the royal palace was thick with the scent of ink, old parchment, and the faint herbal bitterness of healing salves that still clung to the triplets' bandages.
Seren sat at the table between Kael and Aeron, her fingers tracing the edge of a report from the latest scouts. The dark fur along her shoulders caught the torchlight. The bond hummed steadily between the four of them. Each of them still healing but refusing to show weakness in front of the council.
A young scout captain stood before them, his uniform dusty from hard riding. "The northern territories are fracturing faster than we anticipated, Your Majesties. Magnus's death created a power vacuum. Three major factions have already emerged. The largest is led by General Thorne, a former commander under Magnus. He's rallying the remnants under a banner of revenge. He's promising glory and new lands to any pack that joins him."
