Aeron's POV
The wind carried the weight of storm clouds as the banners of the Silver Dawn snapped sharply overhead. The iron gate had been polished just yesterday, and yet the cold air made it look like it had never known warmth.
My brothers stood flanking me—Kael to my left, Luca and Lucian just behind. Each of us dressed in ceremonial black—not the soft velvet and gilded robes of court, but in fitted leather layered fabric. We weren't here to impress. We were here to command. Our attire, like our reign, was made to endure blood and fire.
Down the path came the royal escort, their polished obsidian-tipped spears gleaming even under the heavy clouds. Their armor bore the crest of the royal lycan family: a crown surrounded by fangs and a crescent moon. The air shifted when they arrived. Everyone noticed it but no one said it aloud.
At their center, calm and composed, sat the prince.
Vaelen Lysandros.
