Chapter 12 - The Gathering Storm at the Border
Dawn broke over the eastern frontier in a wash of bruised purple and grey. The air was frigid, thick with the scent of pine sap and impending violence.
Standing atop a jagged stone ridge, Giselle looked down into the valley below. Thousands of enemy mercenaries, clad in heavy iron armor and wielding anti-lycan rune-pikes, swarmed the mountain pass. Leading them was a ruthless warlord named General Vane, a towering brute who had once served as Lord Sterling’s chief enforcer.
"They brought reinforcements from the southern coast," Stellan said, his voice cold and steady as he drew his massive broadsword. The blade hummed with white-hot energy. "They think a human queen makes us vulnerable. They think they can reclaim the eastern trade routes through blood and fire."
"They underestimate what it means to cross the Frostfang lineage," Giselle replied, her crimson eyes narrowing. She raised her hand, and the frost beneath her boots began to crackle and spiral outward, coating the battlefield in a shimmering sheet of ice.
Down in the valley, General Vane spotted them on the ridge and let out a brutal roar. "Tear down the mountain! Kill the beast-king and bring me the white-haired witch!"
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The enemy army surged forward, their war cries echoing off the canyon walls. But the northern pack was ready. With a deafening howl that shook the very foundations of the earth, Stellan transformed into the colossal white wolf, leaping off the ridge directly into the heart of the enemy vanguard. Behind him, hundreds of Lycan warriors charged down the slope like an avalanche of fur and steel.
Giselle remained on the ridge, her hands glowing with ancient royal frost magic, ready to unleash a storm that would change the war forever.
