Chapter 51. The Crown of Thorns

The sun lingered weakly overhead as Selene led her battered pack away from the ruins, their shadows long and broken across the ashen earth. Every step felt strange—as if the world itself needed time to remember what it was like to breathe freely again.

Yet ahead, rising stark and defiant against the distant hills, they saw it.

A fortress of black stone, jagged and cruel, its towers clawing toward the sky. Ivy, long dead and dry, strangled its walls. Banners—once vibrant—hung in tattered shreds, whispering mournfully in the breeze.

Selene knew it instantly.

The Crown of Thorns.

The last stronghold of the old kings. And perhaps, the last refuge for the wolves who had nowhere left to run.

The pack hesitated at the sight.

"It doesn't look welcoming," Alaric said dryly, wiping blood