<h4>Chapter 235: The Great Wall Inspection</h4>


    <i><strong>Draven</strong></i><strong><i>.</i></strong>


    The engines quieted behind us, leaving only the heavy churn of machines and the sharp nk of hammers echoing off stone.


    I stepped out of the first jeep, the cool breath of morning brushing my face, thick with the scent of earth, iron, and faint magic.


    To the east, mist lifted off the hignds, and the sun broke clean over the Great Wall’s unfinished silhouette.


    Beside me, Jeffery shut the car door and fell into stride without a word. Oscar had already moved ahead, the ever-efficient advisor flipping through a thick folder as he led us toward the main clearing.


    "Morning construction started two hours ago," he said, ncing over his shoulder. "The East gate extension is finally sealed."


    The wall stretched for miles, its dark stone curving like a fortress spine against the distant peaks. It was higher than what my father described thest time we spoke before my return.


    At least two levelspleted now, some parts already carved with runes that shimmered faintly when struck by sunlight.


    "How many workers?" I asked, eyes roaming over the scaffoldings.


    "Eight hundred," Oscar replied. "They rotate in three shifts. Work never stops. Day and night crews." He smirked, proud. "This wall breathes more than some cities."


    Good. It needed to. This wall wasn’t just a boundary. It was our line in the sand.


    We passed a team lifting a heavy stone b onto a pulley. The pulley creaked and strained while four wolves in partial shift tightened the load’s stabilizers.


    I stepped off the main path and approached, ignoring the startled nces from the workers.


    "Brace the southern edge tighter," I told one of the young masons. "You’ve left a small slope. That will cost you in alignment once you raise the next row."


    He blinked. "Yes, Alpha. I—I will fix it right now."


    "No shame in adjusting before mistakes set in." I gave his shoulder a firm pat. "Keep going."


    As I turned to leave, I heard the soft hush of whispers travel down the line.


    "That’s Alpha Draven—he came himself?"


    "Didn’t think he’d really show up..."


    Their awe didn’t bother me. It was the kind of reverence that came with trust — the kind I intended to keep.


    We crossed through the central segment and moved toward the southwest base. The wind picked up dust and noise as we neared the medical tent.


    Oscar gestured ahead. "Three were injured yesterday during the tform copse. But they refused to leave the site, so their treatment had tomence here."


    I ducked inside the tent.


    Three wolves sat on cots, arms and legs wrapped in gauze and bandage wraps. Their heads turned sharply the moment I stepped in. They started to rise.


    "Sit," I said. "You don’t need to salute me. This isn’t a battlefield."


    The oldest of them gave a gruff smile. "Could’ve fooled me. These walls fight harder than any enemy."


    I crouched beside him. "You’re lucky it was a cracked support beam, not a copse from height."


    "We’ve been through worse." He grinned through clenched teeth.


    Still, Iid a hand on his shoulder. "Heal. The Wall will wait for you to return. Just don’t try to prove anything in the meantime."


    "Thank you, Alpha."


    The gratitude in their eyes reminded me why I came here — not just to inspect, but to be seen. To reassure them that their sweat and blood mattered. That their Alpha King in waiting stood with them.


    Outside again, Oscar walked silently beside me until he finally muttered, "They already see you as King."


    I kept walking. "I’m not King yet."


    "But they follow you like one."


    From one of the towers, a long low howl pierced the air — a worker’s tribute, echoed faintly by others across the stretch of wall.


    I stopped walking, scanning the sprawl of movement —borers, spell-welders, rune engineers, guards with their des strapped and alert. Not one of them hesitated at their tasks. Each knew the stakes.


    I let the moment settle in my bones. "We finish this Wall, and we aren’t just remembered as warriors. We will be remembered as protectors."


    Oscar didn’t argue. He didn’t need to. Even Jeffery, still and quiet beside us, gave a rare nod.


    "Let’s continue," I said finally, nodding toward the eastern rune welding site. "I want to see how those enchantments are setting."


    The ng of enchanted steel met the air as we approached the eastern section of the Wall. From a distance, the faint shimmer of etched runes could be seen glowing softly under the morning sun, as if the stone itself were breathing light.


    We moved along the narrow scaffolding until we reached the welding station.


    A dozen engineers—some in partial shift to protect their hands and eyes—were hunched over glowing sigils, using concentrated silver me to burn rudimentary protective symbols into the wall’s surface.


    The smoke curled like incense, biting and metallic, tinged faintly with ashroot and sage.


    Jeffery grunted beside me. "Looks sturdy enough."


    "It’s not," Oscar said before I could.


    We all stopped.


    Oscar stepped toward the nearest rune, his eyes tracing the lines carved into the stone. "These welds will hold for now, but they weren’t designed tost against prolonged magical force. These are werewolf-made inscriptions. Temporary. Patchwork at best."


    He tapped one with the tip of his gloved finger. "Without Fae blood to activate the higher wards, the energy seal is... shallow. Decorative."


    I narrowed my eyes, observing the shimmer. "How long will they hold when the war starts?"


    Oscar looked up. "A month. Two, if we’re lucky. After that, they will start bleeding energy. If the vampires or Humans bring spellcasters into the mix... the walls won’t hold long."


    I hated the truth of it. The Faes had once walked among us, and their mastery of runic barriers was unmatched.


    But those days were long gone—shattered by politics, pride, and ancient mistakes. The Faes had gone into hiding nearly or more than twenty-five years ago, just after the blood pact was broken. And we hadn’t seen one since.


    It seems the Faes are more important than I thought.


    I turned to the welder standing beside the sigil. "How many of these runes have beenpleted?"


    "Ny-seven across the wall," he said quickly. "We’re pacing at ten per day."


    "And you’re still following the modifications?" I asked.


    "Yes, Alpha."


    I gave a short nod and stepped closer to one of the active welds, watching the silver threading stitch into the ckened stone like molten thread. The sigil pulsed—briefly—and then dulled to a slow glow.


    It was well-crafted. It just wasn’t enough.


    This wall was meant to keep vampires and humans out—two threats on opposite ends of the spectrum.


    Without Faes, we were relying on strength over elegance, steel over sorcery.


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