The Hall of Ancestors had stood unchanged for eight centuries, an enduring testament to the unyielding martial discipline of the Blackfang Pack. Beneath the soaring vaulted ceiling of volcanic rock, the seventy clan chiefs sat in tiered semicircles, their expressions dark, guarded, and heavily weathered by decades of border war. Heavy wolfskin standards bearing the sigils of the eleven northern bloodlines hung from black iron corbels, while the air hung…
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