"It is not the blade that protects the crown; it is the shield that does not break."
Ostel's departure left a vacuum in the office, but the space was instantly filled by the vast, resonant, and entirely unhappy presence of my wolf. Vayne, my Alpha wolf, was not merely displeased; he was vibrating with a deep, unsettling unease that eclipsed the recent triumph. The laughter from the morning, the satisfaction of the Crestwood fusion, all vanished, replaced by a profound, cold Alpha gravity. The powerful energy that had centered me was now being used by my own inner consciousness to deliver a stern, necessary rebuke.
"Too many moving pieces, Alaric. Too many open wounds," Vayne rumbled, the sound a low, persistent pressure against my consciousness, like the grinding of tectonic plates. "You are playing with fire, convinced the Law grants your immunity from the burn. The moment of political manoeuvring is over. Look at the board and see the true costs."
