The blizzard howling across the upper expanse of the Carbon Glacier provided the ultimate tactical shroud. Snow fell in dense, blinding sheets, whipped by fifty-mile-per-hour gusts that muffled the approach of six hundred Lycan warriors as they crested the final moraine overlooking the Ironfang industrial compound. The temperature had plunged to twenty-two degrees below zero, freezing the moisture in the air into glittering ice needles that swirled through the darkness…
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