The morning sun struck the snow-covered battlements of Obsidian Keep like a shattered diamond. Cold, crisp air swept down from the granite peaks, whistling through the arrow slits of the inner courtyard where pack warriors gathered for their morning drills. Freya stood on the stone balustrade overlooking the courtyard, wrapped in a heavy cloak of charcoal wool trimmed with white ermine. The morning breeze blew loose strands of silver hair…
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