Eleanora’s POV

The war council chamber was suffocating.

The red flare had faded hours ago, but it left its scent behind, smoke, tension, and the iron promise of blood. Twenty-four wolves sat in uneasy rows: half Sapphire, half Emerald. None of them truly at peace.

I stood at the head of the room with Gannon, fingers laced in his beneath the table. We had led together through the bonding ceremony, the wedding, the attempted assassination. But this? This was deeper. Messier.

“We’ve confirmed the flare originated from the eastern border,” Lina reported, voice sharp. “What remains of the village of Kelthar is ash. No survivors. They left… messages.”

“Messages?” asked...