Together for war

Murmurs and anxious whispers filled the throne room like a rising tide of uncertainty. Rosalia, standing at the front of the grand hall, felt the tension ripple through the crowd. She was not accustomed to handling a haywire audience, especially one driven by fear. Her kin, the witches, had experienced one small battle, and already, their spirits were shaken. Their magic may have been formidable, but even their confidence was waning in the face of what lay ahead.

Especially when they had seen the ruthless way in which the werewolves ripped apart their fellow witch. 

The shredded meat and severed hand, decapitated head frozen in terror. It was all fresh for them. On the other hand, the werewolves were more afraid of their families. The win had definitely gone their head but they knew well if they didn't have a witch on their side their bodies would now be buried around this castle. Maybe cremated. 

The tension was high and evident.