The war room convened at midnight, when exhaustion made people careless with their words. I preferred meetings at this hour because truth emerged more easily when minds were too tired to construct elaborate lies.
Fifteen regional commanders surrounded the strategy table, each representing territories across the empire. They had traveled for days to attend this summons, and their faces showed the strain. Good. Comfortable people made poor decisions.
Thorne stood behind me, a silent reminder of what happened to commanders who were disappointed. Mireth occupied a corner with her records, documenting everything for later analysis. Two guards blocked the only exit.
I let them wait in silence for ten minutes after the last one arrived, watching them shift uncomfortably, exchanging glances that tried to guess what this gathering meant. Finally, I spread a new map across the table.
"The human kingdoms are coordinating," I began without preamble. "Five separate nations that have warred with each other for generations are now sharing intelligence, synchronizing troop movements, establishing unified supply chains. This represents a fundamental shift in their strategic thinking."
Commander Vorsk, a scarred veteran who controlled the southern territories, leaned forward. "They fear us more than they hate each other. That is good. Fear makes enemies predictable."
"Fear makes enemies desperate," I corrected. "Desperation breeds innovation. They are developing new tactics specifically designed to counter our traditional strengths. Look here." I pointed to marked positions along the border. "They are not massing for invasion. They are creating a containment perimeter. They intend to starve us, not fight us."
Commander Heleth, younger but tactically sharp, traced the marked positions. "If they control all major trade routes and river crossings, they can cut us off from external resources. Force us to consume our own territories from within."
"Precisely. And internal consumption leads to internal conflict. Packs will turn on each other for diminishing resources. The empire fragments without the humans firing a single arrow."
The commanders absorbed this, their expressions darkening. Several looked to each other, that instinctive pack behavior seeking reassurance from bonded connections. I saw it clearly, the way their eyes met and held for just a moment too long, the slight relaxation in shoulders when bond mates silently communicated solidarity.
Weakness. All of it.
"We have three options," I continued. "First, we break their containment through military force. Direct assault on their positioned forces, overwhelming them before the perimeter solidifies. This would cost us half our warriors and might fail if they have prepared adequate defenses."
"Second option?" Vorsk asked.
"We turn inward, make the empire self-sufficient, and reduce our territorial claims to only what we can sustain without external trade. This would mean abandoning the outer regions, consolidating around core territories. We would survive but diminished."
The commanders looked distinctly uncomfortable with that possibility. Reducing territory meant reducing their individual power bases, admitting weakness, accepting smaller domains to govern.
"And the third option?" Heleth prompted.
"We change the fundamental nature of warfare itself. We stop fighting by their rules and their expectations. We become something they cannot predict or counter." I looked at each commander in turn. "We embrace what they fear most about us and weaponize it beyond their worst imaginings."
Commander Malthor, eldest among them and most traditional, cleared his throat. "My king, that sounds dangerously close to advocating we abandon the codes that govern honorable combat."
"Honor is a luxury afforded to those who can choose their battles. We are facing extinction. Honor becomes irrelevant when your species ceases to exist." I straightened. "The human kingdoms united because they believe we are weakening. They believe the prophecy means our structure is failing. We will prove them correct, then show them what comes after that failure."
Mireth stepped forward, carrying a document case. She distributed papers to each commander, faces carefully neutral as they read.
"These are authorization orders," I explained. "You are hereby granted permission to use any means necessary to destabilize human territories. Poison water supplies. Burn crops before harvest. Assassinate local leaders. Spread disease in crowded cities. Create refugee crises that force their kingdoms to redirect resources toward internal collapse rather than external containment."
The silence that followed was profound. Several commanders looked genuinely shocked. Others looked calculating, already imagining possibilities.
"This is total war," Vorsk said slowly. "No limitations, no boundaries. We would be targeting civilian populations."
"We would be targeting the infrastructure that allows their militaries to function. Soldiers require food, clean water, stable homelands to protect. Remove those foundations and their containment strategy crumbles."
"We would also be confirming every terrible thing they believe about us," Heleth said. "We would become monsters from their nightmares."
"We already are. The only question is whether we are defeated monsters or victorious ones." I tapped the table for emphasis. "Every war in history has been won by whoever was willing to go further than their opponent. The humans believe they can outthink us, outlast us, contain us until we destroy ourselves. I intend to show them they underestimated our capacity for brutality."
Commander Brethan, who had been silent until now, spoke up. "What about the resurrected Alphas? These tactics address human threats but do nothing about the dead warriors hunting our patrols."
"The resurrection problem requires a different solution, one I am developing separately. For now, continue fallback protocols when encountering resurrected opponents. Conserve your forces until I can deploy a permanent countermeasure."
"And when will that be?"
"When it is ready. Not before." I looked at him directly. "Do you doubt my ability to handle multiple threats simultaneously?"
Brethan lowered his gaze immediately. "No, my king. I simply seek to understand the full strategic picture."
"The full strategic picture is simple. We are surrounded by enemies on all sides, human and supernatural. Traditional approaches have failed to prevent our current crisis. Therefore, we adapt or we die. I prefer adaptation."
I gestured to the authorization orders. "You have forty eight hours to review these directives and prepare implementation plans. After that, I expect coordinated action across all territories. Hit them everywhere at once. Make them understand that containing us simply concentrates our lethality."
Vorsk raised his paper. "Some of these tactics will result in massive civilian casualties. Women, children, elders who pose no military threat."
"And when human armies marched through Lycan territories three generations ago, did they spare our women, children, and elders? We are not introducing cruelty to this conflict. We are simply matching what has always been done to us." I paused. "But if your conscience troubles you, Commander Vorsk, I can assign these operations to someone with fewer moral complications."
He met my eyes, and I saw him make the calculation every commander in this room was making. Refuse, and be marked as weak or disloyal. Accept, and become complicit in atrocities. There was no third option.
"My conscience is irrelevant, my king. I will implement as ordered."
"Excellent." I looked around the table. "Does anyone else have moral objections they like to express?"
Silence. They had all made the same calculation.
"Then we are finished here. Return to your territories. Begin preparations immediately. And remember, secrecy is essential until the operations launch. Any leaks will be traced back to their source and eliminated along with their entire command structure."
The commanders filed out, carrying their damning papers, their faces showing various degrees of resignation and determination. Only Vorsk lingered briefly at the door, looking back at me with something that might have been pity or judgment.
Then he left, and I was alone with Thorne and Mireth.
"They will follow orders," Mireth said, collecting her notes. "But you have lost their respect. They see you as necessary evil now, not a leader worth following."
"I never wanted their respect. I wanted their obedience. Respect is conditional. Obedience enforced through fear is reliable."
Thorne moved to the window overlooking the darkened empire. "You are creating a legacy of horror. Generations from now, parents will frighten children with stories of Kaedor the Monstrous, the king who burned the world to keep his throne."
"Good. Let them remember fear. Let them remember what happens when the world pushes too hard." I joined him at the window. "Do you disapprove?"
"I stopped approving or disapproving of your decisions years ago. I simply execute them and watch the outcomes." He glanced at me sideways. "But I wonder if you ever ask yourself where the line is. What you would refuse to do, even for survival."
"There is no line. Lines are artificial constraints that advantage your enemies. The moment you declare something off limits, your opponent knows exactly how to exploit that limitation."
"Then you are truly without boundaries. Truly willing to sacrifice anything, destroy anyone, become whatever monster the situation demands."
"Yes."
Thorne nodded slowly. "I suppose that is why you will probably win. And why winning will leave you nothing worth having kept."
He left before I could respond, his footsteps echoing down the stone corridor.
Mireth remained, organizing her papers with mechanical precision. "He is not wrong, you know. Victory built on total moral compromise is indistinguishable from defeat. You will rule over ashes and haunted survivors."
"Ashes can be rebuilt. Haunted survivors can produce new generations. Extinction cannot be reversed." I turned from the window. "How is ritual research progressing?"
"I have verified seventy percent of the symbols. The power requirements are even more massive than initially calculated. You would need to sacrifice roughly fifteen thousand Lycans to generate sufficient energy for empire wide transformation."
Fifteen thousand. Nearly a tenth of the total Lycan population. The number sat in my mind like a stone.
"Can it be done without alerting the intended sacrifices beforehand?"
"Theoretically. If you stage it as a military gathering, perhaps a tribute ceremony or empire wide ritual to counter the prophecy. By the time they understand what is happening, the magic will already be in motion."
"Then continue preparations. I want everything ready within six weeks."
"That is an aggressive timeline."
"The human containment will solidify in that period. The resurrected Alphas are multiplying. I am running out of time to change the fundamental conditions of this conflict." I moved toward the door. "Six weeks, Mireth. Make it happen."
I left her there among her calculations, walking through empty corridors where torches cast shadows that looked like accusatory fingers pointing at my back.
Thorne's question echoed in my thoughts. Where was the line I would not cross?
The truth was simple and terrible. There was no line. There had never been a line. From the moment I killed my first challenger at fifteen, I had understood that survival meant embracing whatever ugliness the world demanded.
The empire thought I was ruthless by choice. They were wrong. I was ruthless by necessity, by the fundamental reality of existing without the bonds that gave others their strength and moral anchors.
I was not becoming a monster. I had always been one. I was simply running out of reasons to pretend otherwise.