In the realm of Horgara, a vast empire carved from blood, oath, and prophecy, seven great packs once warred over land and pride. That age of ruin—the War of Azbine—lasted one hundred and sixty years. But when the war-weary banners fell and the rivers ran thick with sorrow, a single Alpha rose from the ashes.
Fanoga, of Windorous.
A warrior, a scholar, a dreamer—he united the divided, brought peace where only vengeance had lived. With vision and steel, he forged the packs into one: **Horgara**. So spoke the revered priest Zoka:
> "A time shall come when the children of Ovina, the great wolf, shall live as one beneath a single Alpha, and peace and prosperity shall flourish."
Ovina—the mythical wolf who once ruled the wilds—was said to have become the moon itself, guarding the lands of men from the Dark that hungered just beyond.
Fanoga fulfilled the prophecy. He defeated the Hinterland clans in the Battle of Havillah, and the packs bent the knee. Under his reign, they were bound not by chains, but by pact. Trade flourished. Each pack kept its own lands, its own pride, but tribute flowed to Windorous, the capital. In return came protection, rule, and a fragile peace.
To guard this unity, Fanoga built a new force: the Sevenfold Guard—the best warriors from each pack, standing watch over the capital.
And to guard the future, he built the Royal College of Horgara, where the heirs of each great pack would study, train, and be shaped. Sons and daughters of power, grown not only in strength, but in allegiance.
It was said: "He who commands the College, commands the future of Horgara."
---
### A Journey Begins
Centuries later, the College still stood. So did peace. But peace, like embers beneath ash, can burn unseen.
In the halls of House Zuganis, Sairus, Alpha of the eastern forest pack, stood before his son, Vesairus—young, proud, and bound for the College.
"Listen well, son," Sairus said, voice low and weighty. "You have no friends at the Royal College. Every heir goes there to outmaneuver the rest. They smile as they scheme. Be wise."
Vesairus offered a confident grin. "I'm a trained Zuganite. I can handle myself."
Sairus gave a dry chuckle. "So are they, boy. And some are trained to kill with their tongues."
He turned to Oliver, the steward.
"You'll take seven of our best warriors with him. Six servants. One messenger. And seven gold claws—for the Grand Alpha. He'll host Vesairus, yes, but let them see our standing."
Vesairus crossed his arms. "Is all this necessary? The College has never been attacked. You act like danger waits behind every pillar."
His father's eyes darkened. "It does. You just don't see it yet. I've lost your mother. I won't lose you."
A silence fell. Then, softer:
"Greet the Grand Alpha on my behalf. And stay out of trouble. Vila-Tahari, son."
> May your steps be ordered.
Vesairus bowed slightly, placing hand to heart.
"Ovina-demsaka."
> May the Great Wolf be with us.
---
### The College Gates
Trumpets cried as the gates of the Royal College opened. Stone towers rose like spires of memory, holding within them generations of whispered promises and broken truces.
In the grand hall, robed in royal violet, the Grand Alpha stood tall—his eyes sweeping the heirs of the Great Packs. So many futures. So many games waiting to be played.
He turned to his personal guard, voice thick with nostalgia.
"A sight to behold," he said. "It was here I met my queen, Azra. Young and fierce. She bested me at swordplay twice before I ever stole a kiss."
The guard smiled faintly, but said nothing.
The Grand Alpha stepped forward, raising his arms.
"Sound the trumpets."
Six heralds lifted brass horns. A great call rolled through the arches, silencing all.
"I welcome you to the Royal College of Horgara!"
Applause erupted. Silks rustled. Laughter sparked.
"Children of Frakas and Frakazis,"
>Alphas and Great Alphas
he declared, "You are heirs to strength, but here you must earn wisdom. You will train, study, lead—and perhaps love."
A pause. A smile.
"It was in these halls I met my beloved. Perhaps one of you will leave here not only with power—but with purpose."
Cheers followed. Voices bright. Futures blooming.
But as the Grand Alpha turned, his smile faded. Behind the stone pillars, far from the gaze of heirs and history, he stumbled.
His guard caught him.
"Send for Dabrin," he whispered. "Now."
Four moons. Four moons of secret pain. The sickness inside him clawed with unseen teeth. And no heir had yet been named.
Beyond the joy of the College, the realm waited. And power, like wolves, always waits to devour the weak.