Chapter 4 - THE MARCH OF THE IRON WOLF
Three days later, the earth shook beneath the synchronized marching of the northern army.
At the vanguard rode King Cedric upon his massive black warhorse, his dark armor gleaming under the overcast sky. Beside him, riding a swift, silver-maned mare, was Isolda. She wore a tailored leather riding habit lined with heavy arctic wolf fur, a silver circlet resting upon her silver-blonde hair, catching the pale winter sunlight.
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Word of their approach had traveled like wildfire across the continent. Packs along the way either hid in terror or rushed to open their gates, realizing that the formidable Iron Wolf was not riding out of simple conquest—he was riding a crusade of vengeance and divine retribution.
Meanwhile, inside the Riverlands, absolute chaos reigned.
Alpha Tristan paced back and forth across his throne room until his boots wore grooves into the stone. Lady Rowena was screaming at the maids, her face mottled with rage and fear.
"What do you mean the guards are deserting?!" Rowena shrieked, throwing a porcelain vase against the wall. "Kill them! Execute every last deserter!"
"My Lady, we can't," a breathless captain of the guard cried, bursting through the doors. "They aren't just running because they’re scared of the northern army. The pack wolves are refusing to fight. They say the scent of the true queen is on the wind, and their animal instincts are forcing them to submit. If we fight King Cedric, our own wolves will turn on us from the inside!"
Tristan grabbed the captain by the collar, lifting him off his feet, his eyes wild and bloodshot. "I am the Alpha here! Not some runaway Omega! We activate the ancestral shields! Pour wolfsbane and silver into the moats! Prepare the archers!"
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"It's too late, Alpha," a trembling voice whispered from the doorway.
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Master Caelum limped into the hall, holding up a shattered piece of the ancestral altar stone. "The ancient wards… they aren't answering our call anymore. They sense her presence at the border. The shields have dissolved into mist."
Tristan dropped the captain, stumbling backward until his spine hit the cold stone pillar. His chest tightened as the horrifying realization hit him. He hadn't just made a mistake. He had signed his own death warrant.
