Valentine's Stronghold – The Great Chamber – Night
The doors opened inward.
Stone grinding against stone. The sound echoed through the chamber, swallowed by the high ceiling and the shadows that clung to the walls. Torches flickered—blue flame, no smoke, fed by something old and hungry.
Valentine walked in alone.
His boots were silent on the black stone. His coat was dark, unadorned. No jewelry. No weapons. Just the pendant hanging from his neck, its glow faint but steady.
The chamber was round. A massive table dominated the center, carved from a single slab of obsidian. Around it, representatives of the coalition waited.
The vampire lord sat to Valentine's left. Marius. His pale fingers drummed on the stone, rings clinking. His eyes tracked Valentine's approach, hungry and patient.
The werewolf alpha sat to Valentine's right. Fenris. His fur was grey, his muzzle scarred. His pack stood behind him—not at the table, but close enough to smell.
