The biting cold of late autumn had turned the forests surrounding Shadowclaw Keep into a forest of skeletal, frost-coated branches. Inside the ancestral fortress, the grand halls that had once echoed with the boisterous laughter of three hundred warriors at evening feast were tomb-silent. Torches flickered low in their iron sconces; coal was scarce, rationed strictly for the gatehouses and the wounded sentries in the lower infirmary. Alpha Kael walked…
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