The sixth winter since our arrival in the Shadowfall Domain brought heavy, pristine snow that transformed the black-stone fortress into a sparkling citadel of silver and marble.
From the arched windows of the High Sovereign Academy’s central library, the view extended across the entire valley. Dozens of young lycans, wrapped in warm wool cloaks embroidered with the silver crest of the Neutral Alliance, laughed as they cleared the cobblestone walkways with controlled bursts of elemental magic.
I stood by the grand fireplace, cradling a mug of warm herbal tea. Across from me sat Lord Malakor, reviewing the diplomatic petitions submitted for the upcoming regional spring summit.
"The Western Alliance has formally requested that your office mediate their territorial water disputes," Malakor
