Chapter Seventy:
The interior of the command tent was thick with the scent of dried cedar, ancient parchment, and the low, rhythmic hum of the forest at dusk. A single lantern flickered atop a central table, its flame dancing fitfully and casting long, skeletal shadows against the canvas walls. Luna stood at the head of the table, her presence a cold, stabilizing anchor for the Alphas gathered around her. The air in the room was charged with a newfound intensity; the Crimson Baptism had changed them all, sharpening their movements and making their auras feel dense and heavy, like the air before a lightning strike.
Lucien stepped forward, his purple-veined hands steady as he unrolled a weathered map made of cured elk hide. The edges were frayed and stained by time, but the ink was dark and precise. With a sharp, decisive motion, he pointed to a sprawling, jagged region on the map dominated by deep indigo pigments and interlocking shaded veins.
