The air around him had thickened. Even the forest sound—the rustle of leaves, the quiet drip of water—had dulled, as though holding its breath.
He crouched beside the remains. The ribs gleamed faintly beneath the moss, each one etched with hair-thin veins of blue light. The same hue that had burned through the storm. He reached out, hesitated, and let his fingers hover above the skull.
The earth there pulsed once. Faint, like a heartbeat too tired to rise again.
The voice whispered once more, slower now, words drawn out like smoke:
"Once, this one defied its death itself. Now it sleeps beneath roots and mud. Tell me, Child of the ruin's—do you pity it… or envy it?"
Eric's throat tightened. "I don't know."
He should have stood, should have walked away. But something about the bones kept him still—the way the faint light reached toward him, like it remembered being alive.
Snow filled his mind again. A shadow against the blizzard. The weight of a will too fierce to die.
A strange ache throbbed behind his ribs, not pain exactly, more like recognition.
The voice sighed, faint amusement in its edge.
"You walked his path, saw his rise, his end. His burden clings to you now. So tell me, wanderer of borrowed memories—will you guide this spirit where it could not go?"
The question hung there, half invitation, half judgment.
Eric didn't speak. But somewhere deep within, he felt the echo of that long-forgotten howl, soft and unending, waiting for an answer he didn't yet know how to give.
The voice drifted again, softer this time.
"He did not die because he was weak… far from it. When he gained that power, he was stronger than most beasts born of magic. He died because his reason for power was lost. A wolf without a pack is like a king without a crown , An unwanted a burden to this world."
The air stilled. For a heartbeat, Eric thought he heard something else beneath the words — not command, but invitation.
"Will you be his new kin?"
The question lingered, neither cruel nor kind.
Eric stared at the bones, unsure whether it was mercy or burden being offered.
Eric's hand lowered at last. His fingers brushed bone — cold, dry, humming faintly. The blue light crawled beneath his skin, winding through his veins before fading again.
"I don't know what you want from me," he murmured. "But if it's rest you seek…"
The wind shifted. Leaves whispered overhead.
"…then sleep."
He stood, his shadow spilling long across the moss. The ache in his chest didn't fade, but it changed — less a wound, more a tether. The forest seemed to breathe again, slow and deep.
For a moment, he thought he saw it — a black wolf, standing beside him, silent, proud, watching the same horizon.
Then it was gone. Only the whisper of wind and the faint warmth in his palm remained.
Eric lingered a moment longer, eyes on the quiet bones. Then, as the light beneath them dimmed, something shifted — subtle, almost fragile.
Eric froze, eyes locked on the shifting shadow. His heart thumped, a slow, heavy drum in his chest.
From the faint darkness where the black wolf had stood, a new shape emerged — small, gray, translucent, almost mist-like. His breath caught. The outline… it was almost the same as the cub in his dream. The one that had clawed through the blizzard, the one that had fought and bled and burned with unnatural fire.
But this one wasn't solid. Not alive. Not really.
It stepped forward silently, paws hovering just above the earth, following him. Every instinct screamed that it wasn't meant to be here. Every memory of snow, storm, and fire surged through him.
Eric blinked. The voice that had guided him, questioned him, whispered in his head — gone. Silence. Thick, suffocating silence, like the forest itself was holding its breath.
"What… what are you?" he muttered, voice rough, uneven. He wanted it to vanish. Wanted it to not exist. His hand twitched toward the sword he barely needed for this — though he knew it wouldn't help.
The translucent wolf tilted its head, eyes soft and impossibly alive, yet hollow. It mirrored every motion from the dream, every tilt, every flick of the ear, every cautious step. Almost like it remembered. Almost like it was that wolf.
Eric scrambled back, stepping over roots and loose moss, trying to put distance between him and the ghostly wolf. his breath hitched. his heart thudded like a war drum.
The wolf followed, silent, steady, not hurrying but not slowing either. Every step he took felt heavier, like the ground itself had become an anchor.
Eric ran faster. Branches clawed at his face. His boots slipped in the damp earth. He twisted to look back—just a glimpse of its translucent eyes, unblinking, patient, following him like a shadow stitched to his back.
Panic flared. His foot caught on a gnarled root. He went down hard, face first into the moss and dirt. Pain shot through his nose, his hands scraped raw, and he gasped for breath.
The wolf stopped. Just for a moment. Then it moved closer. Not threatening, not attacking—just… present. Immovable.
He pushed myself up, shaking, cursing. "Why won't you leave me alone?!"
Eric swallowed hard. "No… no, I don't want… I don't need this." His voice cracked, louder than he'd meant. "Go. Leave me alone."
But it didn't.
It followed, drifting just a pace behind, silent, patient, waiting. Its presence gnawed at him — familiar and impossible, a living echo of something he had thought belonged only to dreams.
Eric's chest tightened. He had survived fire, blood, betrayal, and snowstorms that would have claimed any lesser man. Yet this — this ghost of a wolf, a memory made flesh — unsettled him in a way nothing else had.
He spun around. "I said go, go away!"
The wolf merely blinked, and in that moment, Eric realized: "Will you be his new kin?" those words the voice had not spoken them lightly they were a warning as to what will happen next if he tries to help it.
He tried to breathe. Tried to tell myself it was just a shadow. Just a memory. Just… not real. But it stayed.
He exhaled, sharp. "I… I don't want you."
It didn't move. Didn't fade. Just stayed. And somewhere beneath the fear, beneath the fury, he realized the truth.
It wasn't going anywhere.
And now they were bound by each other. Whether he wanted it or not.
He didn't know what to do. If the wolf had been evil, if it had meant him harm — he could've lived with that. But it wasn't.
It just wanted a family.And deep down, Eric knew he couldn't give it one.He had nothing left to give. No home. No place to belong.