A Shattered Peace
Within the Ministry of Magic’s grand chamber, chaos reigned. The circular room, with its vaulted ceilings and walls inscribed with the history of the true bloods and true wolves, had once been a symbol of their fragile peace. Now it was a battleground of words.
Elder Lyara Blackthorn, the oldest and most respected of the true wolves, stood with her hands clasped behind her back. Her voice was calm, but her golden eyes burned with conviction. “This child is not a threat. She is an opportunity. We must not let fear blind us to what she represents—a chance for true unity.”
“And what does unity mean for us?” countered Salazar Vayne, a proud and cynical true blood. His dark crimson robes billowed as he gestured toward the council. “The bitten will not accept this. They will see her as an affront to their existence, and they will respond with bloodshed. Do we risk the safety of our people for one child?”
Lyara’s gaze sharpened. “If we abandon this child now, we abandon any hope for peace. She is more than a child; she is a symbol. And symbols are what hold the world together.”
“But symbols are also what spark wars,” Salazar retorted.
The chamber erupted into heated debate, the voices of true bloods and true wolves clashing like swords.