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KAEL'S TYRANNY

The rogue camp, hidden deep within the forest's shadows, seethed with tension. Marcus' temporary absence had created a power vacuum, and Kael, his brutish son, had seized the opportunity to assert dominance. The burly, scar-faced werewolf now stood as the camp's beta, reveling in his newfound authority.

Kael's massive frame towered over the other rogues, his thick neck and bulging muscles a testament to his brute strength. His eyes gleamed with a cruel intensity, and a snarl perpetually twisted his lips. The air around him reeked of aggression, making even the most hardened rogues wary.

Ghost, the camp's former second-in-command, now cowered beneath Kael's tyranny. The lean, agile werewolf's eyes had lost their spark, his movements hesitant and subservient. Tim, the previous beta, trembled whenever Kael's gaze fell upon him, his insecurities more pronounced.

"You're worthless, Ghost," Kael sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "Your strategies failed. My father's plans will prevail
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