= Mikael =
A week had passed since the fire had devoured one of our winter stores, but the scent of ash still clung stubbornly to the air, drifting through the territory like a ghost that refused to rest. The supply hall, once a symbol of our preparation and foresight, now stood partially charred, edges blackened and beams scarred by fire. The stone walls, normally solid and imposing, were scorched, as though the flames had marked not just the building but me. Every time my gaze fell on it, a weight settled across my shoulders—heavier than any armor, sharper than any blade.
An Alpha’s duty was simple in theory: protect, provide, preserve.
Simple in theory.
Yet theory offered no comfort when failure was tangible, when the evidence of miscalculation smoldered before you. I had failed at
