(Third Person POV)
The sun dipped below the horizon as darkness cloaked the earth, casting long shadows across the ancient forests of The Royal Kingdom. Rykor, the leader of the rogues, leaned against a gnarled tree, his silver eyes glinting with malice. The air was thick with anticipation and the tension of betrayal. His werewolf rogues surrounded him, their growls low and menacing, reflecting their readiness for battle. Rykor, always the manipulator, had spent years weaving a web of deceit and intrigue to weaken the Lycan Kingdom, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Today was that day.
Owen, the Lycan King, stood atop the fortress wall of his castle, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his heart heavy with the foreboding sense that war was near. Beside him, Annaliz, his steadfast quee
