"Like the thundering of a mountain avalanche, the pack of Prince Wolf ravaged everything in their wake. They were a calamity without a name, a storm of fur and teeth that the world was not yet built to endure. The other princes, who had known only the long, golden age of peace, stood paralyzed. Some attempted to hold their gates, only to find the dirt stained red by dawn. Others fled, leading their people in desperate migrations across the earth, but the shadow of the Wolf was always faster.
Word of the tragedy in the fated forest spread like a fever. Realizing that they were powerless against a curse, the desperate sovereigns began a pilgrimage to the clearing where the Being of Power resided.
