RIVEN POINT OF VIEW

Silence has always been my closest companion.

Not the empty kind that suffocates lesser minds, but the layered silence where thought sharpens, where threads of fate whisper if one listens long enough.

My chamber lay deep within the inner sanctum of Shadowfang, carved from stone older than the pack itself. No banners hung here, no war maps cluttered the walls. Only symbols etched faintly into the rock, markings left by seers long before my birth.

The air smelled faintly of ...