[Your eyes opened.]
[The first sensation was your teeth. Fangs, sharp and prominent, pressed against your lips from the inside. Your tongue explored them instinctively, feeling their deadly points.]
[You stared upward at the perpetually gloomy sky of Fenris. Snowflakes tumbled and spun through the air, and you tracked each one with perfect clarity. Your vision had sharpened dramatically. Every detail stood out in crystalline focus.]
[Sounds assaulted your ears. The soft rustle of fur against fur. The distinct crunch of footsteps compressing snow. The crackling pop of burning wood. Each sound was distinct, separable, overwhelmingly clear.]
[Scents flooded your nostrils. A human smell, unfamiliar and strange. The rich aroma of roasting meat, fat dripping and sizzling. You could identify each scent individually, trace them to their sources.]
[Instinct surged through your body. You launched yourself upright in a single explosive movement, landing in a predatory crouch.]
[Your hands came up, fingers splayed to display claws that had grown sharp and dangerous. A roar tore from your throat, deep and bestial, a warning and a challenge combined.]
[An enormous fire burned before you. A Fenrisian mammoth, split and prepared for cooking, roasted over the flames. The creature was massive even butchered, its meat enough to feed a dozen men.]
[A figure stood with his back to you. He was huge, nearly four meters tall, his frame suggesting enormous power held in casual restraint. He paid no attention to your threatening display, as if your roar and aggressive posture were of no more concern than a fly's buzzing.]
[You stared at his broad back, at the fall of blonde hair that reached past his shoulders. Hesitation crept into your animal mind.]
[Part of you, the primal instinct that now dominated your consciousness, wanted to attack. To prove dominance. To fight.]
[But another part, deeper and more basic, sensed danger. That towering back was like staring into an abyss. Some predator-sense that lived in your hindbrain screamed warnings. This was not prey. This was an apex predator, something that stood at the very top of the food chain.]
[Your desire to attack withered and died, strangled by that instinctual fear.]
[Reason began to reassert itself, pushing through the fog of animal consciousness. You were more than beast. You were human. You were...]
[Before you could complete the thought, something massive flew through the air toward you.]
[Your body reacted instantly, faster than thought. Your hands shot out and caught the object. A roasted mammoth leg, still steaming with heat, its meat tender and dripping with fat.]
[You tore into it immediately, fangs ripping through flesh, barely chewing before swallowing. The animal part of your mind demanded sustenance, and you could not resist.]
["Use your will to shape your thoughts." The voice was low and resonant, like a volcano's rumble given speech. It cut through the howling wind and drifting snow with ease, reaching your ears with perfect clarity. "Don't let instinct control everything."]
[You stopped eating mid-bite.]
[Your eyes widened as recognition crashed through you like a physical blow.]
[You turned slowly to face the speaker fully, seeing his features for the first time.]
[The face was familiar. You'd seen it everywhere in the Fang, in statues and murals and decorations. In artwork that spanned millennia. Features that were carved into the very identity of the Space Wolves Chapter.]
[Shock rendered you completely still. For several heartbeats, you forgot how to breathe, how to move, how to process what you were seeing.]
[The hot mammoth leg slipped from nerveless fingers and fell into the snow. Fat hissed and sizzled as it melted the frozen powder.]
["Le... Lord... Great Wolf Lord!" The words came out as a hoarse croak. You dropped to one knee immediately, head bowed, unable to meet those legendary eyes.]
[The figure wore power armor, but it was worn and battered. Not poorly maintained, but ancient, bearing the scars of countless battles across who knew how many centuries. Repairs had been made countless times, each one adding to the armor's history.]
[A black wolfskin cloak hung from his shoulders, the fur aged but still magnificent. The pelt had survived through untold years, a relic of profound significance.]
[Leman Russ, the Wolf King, Primarch of the Space Wolves, turned his gaze upon you. His eyes were deep and weathered, holding the weight of millennia. His face, marked by time and frost, softened into something approaching gentleness.]
["Little cub," the Primarch said, his voice surprisingly soft. "Is Bjorn well?"]
[The question caught you completely off guard. You blinked, processing the unexpected inquiry.]
[Bjorn. You hadn't seen him since arriving at the Fang. You'd only heard stories about the legendary warrior, the last of Russ's personal guard, now entombed in a Dreadnought sarcophagus.]
[You told the Wolf King what you knew. How Bjorn slept in stasis, waking only once every thousand years or so to share his memories with the younger Space Wolves. How the ancient warrior told stories of Russ and the Great Crusade to those who had never known those glory days.]
[As you spoke, describing Bjorn's situation, the Wolf King's expression shifted subtly.]
["It's hard for him," Leman Russ said with a slow sigh. The words carried enormous weight, grief and pride and love all mixed together.]
[His deep eyes seemed to look past the immediate landscape, piercing through the wind and snow to see across impossible distances. Seeing the distant mountain of the Fang. Seeing deeper still, into its heart, where Bjorn lay dreaming in his armored tomb.]
[Then, almost casually, the Primarch asked about you. Your past. Your experiences. Where you'd come from and what battles you'd fought.]
[You answered without hesitation, describing your combat experience, the worlds you'd seen, the enemies you'd faced. Speaking to a Primarch should have been terrifying, but somehow it felt natural. Like talking to a father you'd never known you had.]
["Perhaps only the Astartes who grow up within the Chapter are the perfect combination of courage and tactics," Leman Russ mused, his gaze thoughtful. "But personally, I value courage more. Courage can compensate for lack of experience. Tactics can be learned. But true courage, the kind that drives a man forward when all hope is lost, that is something innate."]
[His eyes focused on you with sudden intensity.]
["As a mortal, you possessed unparalleled courage. That deserves more praise than any tactical brilliance."]
[The Wolf King suddenly raised one hand, his palm bare of armor, and pointed at the mammoth leg lying forgotten in the snow.]
["I don't have much time left," he said simply. "So, little cub, eat quickly."]
[You immediately retrieved the cooling meat and settled onto the snow to resume eating, though your appetite had diminished considerably under the circumstances.]
[In the seventh week, the Wolf King Leman Russ led you through the snow-covered wasteland.]
[Sometimes he spoke, sharing legends about Fenris, his homeworld. Stories about the first tribes, about the discovery by the Emperor, about the early days of the Space Wolves Legion. His voice carried the weight of living history, speaking of events he'd personally witnessed.]
[But most of the time, he focused on tempering your will and strengthening your spirit. The Canis Helix had changed your body, given you enhanced strength and speed and senses, but it had also brought the Wulfen curse closer to the surface. The beast within was stronger now, more insistent.]
[Whenever you were exposed to large amounts of fresh blood and raw flesh, the animal instincts would surge forward, threatening to overwhelm your human consciousness. You'd feel yourself slipping, becoming more wolf than man.]
[In those moments, the Wolf King would personally intervene.]
[You learned his wrestling techniques intimately. Usually from the ground, after he'd thrown you there effortlessly. The Primarch's strength was beyond comprehension, but he controlled it perfectly, teaching through physical correction rather than mere words.]
[After more than a dozen such lessons, something changed.]
[Your animal instincts stopped feeling separate from your human consciousness. They merged, integrated, became part of a unified whole. You no longer had to resist the beast within because it was no longer trying to dominate you. It had become simply another aspect of yourself, controlled and channeled.]
[The Wolf King noticed the change immediately. His attitude toward you warmed further, becoming almost affectionate.]
[You shared meals he prepared with his own hands. You learned wrestling techniques he demonstrated personally. For a brief time, you existed in a strange dream, taught by a legend, guided by a demigod.]
[Then, without warning, a blizzard swept across the wasteland.]
[Leman Russ stood slowly, his massive frame rising from where he'd been sitting. He looked up at the screaming wind with an expression of resignation.]
["I miss the taste of honey wine," he muttered, almost to himself. Then, louder, "My time is up, young cub."]
[Your eyes followed his gaze. A tear in reality was forming, subtle at first but growing more defined. The Warp was opening, a rift between dimensions that looked wrong in ways your eyes couldn't properly process.]
["His whispers guided me here," the Wolf King said, staring at the growing portal. You understood he meant the Emperor. "I appreciated the opportunity for a moment of peace. To return home, even briefly. To see that the legacy continues."]
[He turned to face you fully, golden hair shifting around his weathered features. His expression was gentle, almost fatherly.]
["Final advice, little cub. Remember to constantly temper your soul to resist Chaos corruption. But never underestimate the enemy. Their seemingly soft and harmless appearance is often just a mask for something far more dangerous."]
[His eyes bored into yours with sudden intensity.]
["Also remember why you fight. Why you continue, day after day, battle after battle. You have never been His toy. Never His puppet. Do you understand? You fight for your own reasons, guided by your own will. That is what makes you strong."]
[You listened in silence, absorbing every word, committing them to memory. When he finished, you nodded heavily, unable to trust your voice.]
[The Wolf King smiled, fangs glinting briefly between his lips.]
[Then his eyebrows rose slightly, as if hearing something you couldn't perceive.]
["...Got it, nagging old guy," Leman Russ muttered under his breath, seemingly responding to a voice only he could hear.]
[Without ceremony or hesitation, the Primarch turned and walked into the Warp rift. His massive back receded into the impossible angles of the portal, but at the last moment, he raised one unarmored hand and waved.]
[A simple gesture. Goodbye. Farewell. Until we meet again.]
[The Warp crack shrank and vanished, sealing with a sound like reality healing. The blizzard began to weaken almost immediately, the supernatural storm fading with the portal's closure.]
[If not for the still-warm fire nearby and the scattered remnants of the meal, you might have thought it was all a dream. An impossible vision brought on by exhaustion or the lingering effects of the Canis Helix transformation.]
[You drew in a deep breath of cold air, feeling it fill your transformed lungs. The chill barely registered anymore. Your new physiology was adapted perfectly for Fenris's brutal environment.]
[You straightened the gray robe you wore, brushing away grease stains and snow. The fabric had seen better days, but it still bore the Space Wolves insignia proudly.]
[Your gaze lifted, traveling across the snow-covered wasteland, past countless drifting snowflakes, until it fixed on the distant mountain. The Fang, rising like a titan's fist thrust toward the sky.]
["Come on," you muttered to yourself, a slight smile tugging at your lips despite everything. "The real show is about to begin."]
[You gathered the remaining food scraps and carefully preserved a few pieces of burning wood from the fire, wrapping them in cloth to keep them alive as long as possible.]
[Then you set off once more through the weakening snowstorm, heading toward your ultimate test.]
[Each step carried you closer to destiny. Closer to transformation from mortal to Astartes, from man to Space Marine, from aspirant to Battle-Brother of the Space Wolves.]
[The Canis Helix burned in your blood. The Wolf King's words echoed in your mind. And ahead, the Fang waited, ancient and eternal, ready to judge whether you were truly worthy of joining the Sons of Russ.]