The conference room sat in heavy silence, illuminated only by the pale morning light filtering through reinforced windows.
Two sides faced each other across a mahogany table scarred by decades of negotiations, some successful, most not.
On one side sat the human delegation: President Marcus Aldridge flanked by his three most trusted leaders.
General Hawthorne sat rigid in her military uniform, every button and crease perfect despite the fact that she hadn't slept more than three hours in the past week. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her hand trembled slightly when she reached for her water glass.
Chancellor Wei had given up trying to hide his despair. His economic reports grew grimmer each week, and the numbers haunted him. He'd stopped sleeping altogether, just stared at projections that showed their entire economy collapsing within eighteen months if the war continued.
Ambassador Okoye had spent the last five years trying to broker peace. Five years of failed negotiations, of watching the death toll climb, of going home to an empty apartment and wondering if anything she did mattered at all.
Across from them, the wolf delegation commanded the room with a different kind of authority.
Three Royal Elders from the oldest bloodlines, their human forms barely containing the predatory grace that marked their true nature.
Elder Thorne, silver-haired and sharp-eyed. His fingers drummed once against the table, just once, but the sound echoed in the silence like a warning.
Elder Ravenna looked no older than thirty, but her eyes held centuries. She hadn't blinked in the past five minutes. Hadn't moved. Just watched the humans with an intensity that made sweat bead on the back of Aldridge's neck.
Elder Korvus bore scars that ran from his temple down to his jaw, disappearing beneath his collar. His hands rested on the table, perfectly still, but every person in the room could sense the violence coiled beneath that calm exterior. Those hands had killed. Recently. Often.
The war had been grinding on for three years now.
What began as territorial disputes had escalated into full-scale conflict, and both sides were bleeding themselves dry.
The humans had superior numbers and technology, but the wolves had strength, speed, and an ability to strike from shadows that made conventional warfare nearly impossible. Just last week, an entire military outpost, forty-seven soldiers, had been slaughtered in the night. The wolves had left no survivors. They never did.
President Aldridge cleared his throat, the sound too loud in the quiet room.
He looked down at the casualty report in front of him. The numbers blurred together. Three thousand two hundred and fourteen dead this month alone. He knew some of their names. Had written letters to their families. Had looked their children in the eye at memorial services and promised their parents hadn't died for nothing.
He was running out of promises to make.
"We can't continue like this," he said, and his voice cracked slightly on the last word. He cleared his throat again. "The wolf clans are losing your extinction wolves, your rarest bloodlines. We've documented seven deaths in the past month. Seven bloodlines that can never be recovered."
He looked up, meeting Elder Thorne's gaze.
"Our losses are equally catastrophic. We're destroying each other. For what? Territory? Pride? There has to be another way."
Elder Thorne inclined his head, the movement so slight it was almost imperceptible.
"You speak truth, Mr. President." His voice was quiet, but it filled every corner of the room. "This war serves neither of our peoples. It is a cancer eating us from within."
Aldridge felt something loosen in his chest. Agreement. Finally, after five years, something that sounded like an agreement.
"Then let us find a solution," he said, leaning forward, unable to keep the desperate hope from his voice. "We could arrange an exchange, reparations. Money or land for peace. We could establish neutral territories, create buffer zones. My advisors have prepared several proposals...."
"No."
The word came from Elder Ravenna, and it cut through Aldridge's hope like a blade through flesh. Clean. Final. Devastating.
Her amber eyes fixed on him, and he felt pinned by that gaze, unable to look away.
"With respect, Mr. President," she said, and there was no respect in her tone at all, "we have no need of your money. Our lands are vast and rich. What you offer materially, we already possess in abundance."
She paused, and the silence stretched.
"The wolf clans are superior in resources. What you propose would be... inadequate."
The word hung in the air. Inadequate.... Not just insufficient, inadequate. As if their entire proposal was beneath consideration.
Aldridge felt his jaw tighten, his molars grinding together. He forced himself to relax, to breathe. They had to go through this phase... They had to find a way.
"Then what do you suggest?"