The next day,

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The great hall of the Blackwood stronghold had never been so full. For decades, it had stood half-empty, its walls echoing with silence, its banners tattered, its name spoken only in whispers or scorn.

Now every bench was occupied, every doorway lined, the air thick with the scent of fur and leather and nervous hope. Since Aria had been declared Alpha Regina, wolves had traveled from every corner of the western hemisphere - from the Silver Peaks to the Stone Coast, from the Gray Wastes to the southern riverlands - all carrying the same message: 'We want to join you. We want to belong somewhere that...