The eastern forest is gone.
In its place stands a brutalist monolith of poured concrete, reinforced tungsten, and lead-lined steel. It is a fortress designed by human military engineers, but it is anchored by Blackthorn magic.
I stand on the observation gantry overlooking the primary construction site, the wind whipping my hair across my face. Below me, the scale of the operation is staggering. Massive yellow excavators and towering cranes swing steel girders into place, their diesel engines roaring in a mechanical symphony. But weaving through the human machinery are the wolves.
Dozens of integration school warriors, stripped to the waist and sweating in the crisp autumn air, move in perfect synchronization. They are not shifting. They are channeling. With every pour of concrete, they
