Chapter 9 - THE STORM BEFORE THE DAWN
Before Isolda could warn Cedric, the warning bells of Castle Dunbarton began to toll.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The deep, mournful bronze bell echoed across the snowy valleys, signaling an emergency attack. Isolda and Caelum rushed out to the high stone ramparts just as King Cedric’s vanguard was returning in absolute disarray.
Cedric rode furiously through the heavy oak gates, his armor splattered with dark, acidic blood. He dismounted in a single bound, leaping up the stone stairs to where Isolda stood.
"Cedric! What happened?" Isolda asked, grabbing his arm.
"Outlanders," Cedric spat, his amber eyes blazing with suppressed fury. "A rogue faction of exiled blood-drinkers and mercenary packs from beyond the northern wasteland. They intercepted our western scouts. They aren't regular bandits, Isolda—they carry ancient seals. They are looking for you."
"They know about the Valoria bloodline," Isolda said grimly, her voice steady despite the adrenaline pumping through her veins. "Caelum found the old prophecies in the library tonight. They want the power of the throne."
Cedric stepped close, his hands gripping her shoulders fiercely. "They will have to step over every dead wolf in the North before they ever lay a finger on you. We fortify the castle immediately. Gideon, ready the archers! Torstein, secure the inner keep!"
The courtyard descended into a frenzy of tactical preparation. Torches blazed along the stone battlements, casting long, dancing shadows across the snow. The northern warriors sharpened their broadswords, their low, vibrating war-howls filling the night air, creating an unbreakable wall of sound and solidarity.
Isolda stood at the highest balcony of the keep, looking out into the pitch-black forests beyond the valley. She could feel the dark energy rolling inward like a winter storm, tasting iron and malice in the wind.
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She placed a hand over her heart, feeling her wolf purr with fierce, unyielding confidence. She was no longer the frightened Omega hiding beneath a dirty sack. She was the Queen of the North. And she was ready for whatever came.
JPG
