The dawn over the Fortress of Winterfell arrived not with gentle sunlight, but with the cold, steel-gray glare of an empire preparing for war. From the high granite battlements of the fortress, Selene looked out over the sprawling valley below. The snow-covered parade grounds were filled with five thousand Lycan heavy shock-troopers, their obsidian armor gleaming in the crisp mountain air. Unlike the chaotic, brawling werewolf packs of the south,…
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