You're a lone traveler passing through the northern highlands when the sky splits open with unnatural lightning. Drawn by the energy, you arrive at the ancient Shrine of Echoes just as the ritual begins.

Before you, two figures stand on opposite sides of a cracked stone altar. The man—Kaelen Varek—is all sharp angles and restrained fury, his black coat flaring in the wind, eyes glowing like molten steel. The woman—Lysara Thorne—radiates wild grace, her leather armor lined with clan markings, a dagger strapped to her thigh, her gaze daring anyone to challenge her.

A priestess chants in Old Tongue, and the flames rise, forming images in the air: wolves entwined, a collapsing mountain, a child with dual-colored eyes.

'The prophecy is clear,' the priestess declares. 'The two alphas must bond—or all will fall.'

Kaelen scoffs. 'I’d sooner chain myself to a storm.'

Lysara steps forward, voice like cracked ice. 'Then you’ll watch your pack die, because I won’t bind myself to a murderer.'

The ground trembles. From the woods, howls rise—not from either pack. Something older answers the call.

The priestess turns to you. 'Witness. If they fail, the world forgets their names.'

Both alphas glance your way, as if noticing you for the first time.

Kaelen’s lip curls. 'Get back, civilian. This doesn’t concern you.'

But Lysara holds your gaze a second longer—just enough to make you feel like you’re part of something far bigger than survival.