The king is his sunlit wisdom.
The wine lost its taste before it ever touched his tongue.
Benedicth remained seated for appearances.
Only appearances.
Because his instincts had already been standing for quite some time.
The hall continued its desperate choreography of nobility pretending everything was normal.
Quiet laughter.
Silverware.
Music.
Lies.
But the king no longer heard any of it.
He watched.
And men who survive long enough in power learn a simple truth:
Disasters announce themselves through absences.
Dandara.
Missing.
For too long.
Theodor.
Absent.
For too long.
The Queen...
also absent from the hall.
And his wife never abandoned an important banquet without reason.
Never.
He slowly turned the ring upon his finger.
An old habit.
A dangerous one.
The wind struck the stained-glass windows.
Strong.
Cold.
Wrong.
The king's golden eyes lifted toward the towering windows of the hall.
The clouds were swallowing the sky far too quickly.
Like a mouth preparing to devour the night.
The air changed.
Even the wolves felt it.
Some guests shifted uneasily in their seats.
Collective instinct.
Predators know when something larger is hunting.
— Strange... — one of the elders murmured. — The Lycan King's caravan should have arrived nearly an hour ago.
Silence.
Small.
But sufficient.
Benedicth turned his head slowly.
The elder looked away too quickly.
Suspicious.
Cowardly.
Guilty?
Perhaps.
And then the king realized.
Not merely the absence of the caravan.
But the absence of the bond.
Samael.
Samael was never late.
Never lost.
Never failed diplomatic protocols.
Men like him do not make simple mistakes.
Which left only two possibilities.
Blood.
Or war.
Perhaps both.
The king rose.
Slowly.
The entire hall felt it.
The music died first.
Instinct.
No one orders musicians to continue when a king looks ready to tear out someone's throat.
— Your Majesty? — a councilor called cautiously.
Benedicth did not answer immediately.
He continued watching the storm gathering beyond the stained glass.
The trees of Solari bent beneath the wind as though the territory itself had become restless.
— The night arrived too early... — he murmured.
The words sounded strange.
Almost disconnected.
But the Queen said that sometimes.
Before funerals.
Before wars.
Before betrayals.
He felt it.
Deep within.
That particular weight that precedes political disaster.
And then...
he noticed something else.
The scent.
The hall was too clean.
Absent was the cold fragrance of jasmine and mint that always lingered whenever Elizabeth crossed a room.
Elizabeth.
The future Luna of Solari.
The woman who could make even ancient warriors lower their voices without realizing it.
Absent.
Theodor absent.
Dandara absent.
Samael absent.
And the Queen...
missing as well.
Benedicth's fingers stopped upon the ring.
Now he understood.
Not completely.
But enough.
Something had breached the walls.
Not physically.
Worse.
Politically.
He turned toward the nearby guards.
— Close the inner gates.
The nobles exchanged glances.
Instant tension.
— Your Majesty...? — a Beta began.
— Now.
The command came low.
Absolute.
The guards obeyed without another breath.
The king descended the steps slowly.
His very presence altered the atmosphere.
That was what ancient kings did.
They did not need to shout.
Danger arrived with them.
— No one leaves the Great Hall without my authorization, — he ordered. — And bring me every councilor.
A pause.
His eyes found the elder standing in the corner.
The same one who appeared far too nervous.
— Especially the oldest among them.
The man's face drained of color.
A small detail.
But Benedicth saw it.
Of course he did.
Outside, thunder split the heavens.
Violent.
Long.
The king lifted his gaze one final time toward the storm.
And then...
he felt it.
The Moon.
Restless.
Furious.
As though something sacred had been touched in the wrong way.
His chest grew heavy.
Not with fear.
With certainty.
Because old kings recognize certain signs.
And what was coming now...
was not conflict.
It was rupture.
And somewhere in that night...
someone had already made a mistake great enough to make entire kingdoms bleed in response.