The war room was dimly lit and heavy with silence. From outside, the hoot of an owl echoed faintly. Thornak stood at the head of the table, his gaze sweeping over the room.
"Well?" Thornak demanded, his voice cold and detached. "What did you learn?"
Dain's face was expressionless. "He was a messenger. He was hired to deliver a package to the queen."
Thornak's eyes narrowed. "A package? What kind of package?"
Dain hesitated before speaking. "A small box, sealed with the symbol of the Red Hand. He never saw what was inside, but he was paid handsomely to deliver it."
Thornak stiffened. The Red Hand was not a name spoken lightly. It was a mark of darkness and terror, whispered in fear across the outer lands. A rogue faction of Lycans, ruthless and ambitious, who believed they could topple both the northern and southern kingdoms and rule over every werewolf clan in the region.
