Kealix wandered through the dense forest, unease twisting in his gut like a vine. Something was wrong—he could feel it—but what? Hours passed as he searched the woods, eyes scanning the shadows, instincts flaring with every rustle of leaves. But no danger revealed itself. Nothing stirred but the usual rhythm of the forest. Too calm. Too quiet.
Eventually, he gave up and made his way back to the den. It welcomed him like a heartbeat in the earth. The pups were asleep now, nestled close to their mother's side. The pale pup—the one that had bested its larger sibling earlier—lay curled between her and the big one, peaceful and still.
Kealix exhaled softly, a faint smile touching his lips. There was something impossibly endearing about them like this—so vulnerable, so alive.
Minutes passed. He watched in silence, letting the scene settle into his soul like ash over fire.
The sun had long since set, and now only the stars and the silver glow of the moon illuminated the woods. The world around him had hushed, wrapped in a blanket of night. He found a moss-covered stone nearby, sturdy and cool beneath him. Compared to the broken rubble he'd passed out on days ago, it felt… comfortable. Almost soft. He laid down, exhaustion pulling at his limbs, and let sleep take him.
When he woke, the forest was already alive with movement. The pups were out of the den, playing beneath the morning light. Kealix sat up slowly, blinking against the brightness.
A full gathering.
Fifteen adult wolves lounged outside the den, their black fur shimmering in the sun. He hadn't seen them all together like this before. Not once.
"I've never seen them all at once," he murmured aloud, a quiet smile curling his lips as he watched the pups tumble and bark, darting between the towering adults like dancing flames.
A pair of ravens landed nearby, hopping into the fray. One of them tugged playfully at a pup's tail while the other flapped its wings at a lounging wolf, who swatted it away with lazy amusement.
This is such a beautiful sight, Kealix thought, resting his chin on his hand, elbow propped on his knee. His smile deepened as he watched, lost in the warmth of it all.
And then—
Everything shattered.
Kealix's eyes widened. His heart stumbled, then pounded. The wolves—they were changing. Right in front of him. Their bodies twisted, contorted, corrupted. Bones burst from fur like jagged thorns. Their pelts darkened, then split, revealing crimson sinew and glistening muscle. Their eyes—once bright and wild—turned hollow, gleaming with an unnatural red light.
Even the pups weren't spared.
"No—no, no, no—" Kealix scrambled to his feet, horror rising in his throat. Around him, the forest warped. The vibrant green moss withered into dust. The trees bled black and crimson. Their bark cracked and split, gnarled limbs sharpening into claws. Leaves died in an instant, disintegrating into ash that drifted on a dead wind.
He turned again to the wolves, now locked in a frenzy of violence. They tore into one another without mercy, blood soaking the earth, spraying into the air. It wasn't a fight—it was carnage. Madness.
And at the center of it all was the pale pup.
Still untransformed.
Still fighting it.
Kealix lunged forward instinctively, heart screaming in his chest. "No!" But his hand passed through the scene like smoke. He couldn't touch it. Couldn't stop it.
He was still a ghost here. Just a witness.
The pup stumbled as one of the twisted wolves turned toward it, blood-matted jaws opening wide. It leapt.
The pale pup snapped.
Kealix froze in place.
The change was instant, violent. Agonizing. The pup's white fur darkened into shadow. Its small frame twisted and stretched, bones cracking under the weight of mutation. Another pair of eyes tore open above the first, glowing with searing crimson light.
Kealix's breath caught.
You… you were Fenrir…?
The realization hit him like a blow to the chest. The pain in the transformation—the way the creature's body convulsed, tore, resisted—it wasn't power. It was suffering.
And then—he heard it.
A voice. Faint. Childlike. It wasn't spoken—it was felt, a fragile thread wound tight around his thoughts.
No… it hurts. Mommy… please make it stop… Mommy!
The words weren't sound. They were grief.
Raw.
Desperate.
The voice screamed through his mind, and it shattered him.
Kealix dropped to his knees, fists clenched against the helplessness crashing over him. The transformation continued, merciless and complete, the twisted echo of the pup that once played beneath the morning sun.
This wasn't just memory.
This was trauma.
Kealix watched in silent horror as Fenrir tore the entire pack apart with terrifying ease, each movement brutal, precise—merciless. Blood painted the forest floor, dark and steaming, and still the childlike voice echoed in his mind, raw with desperation.
Please… stop… someone… stop me…
The scream echoed—not through the trees, but in Kealix's soul. He could only kneel there, paralyzed, as the young Fenrir—now drenched in the blood of his own kin—stood trembling in the aftermath.
Corpses surrounded him.
His mother.
His sibling.
Cold.
Lifeless.
The monstrous wolf looked around, panting, limbs shaking with a grief it couldn't fully express. Then—its eyes changed. Not the blood-red glow of its mutated form, but something deeper. Real. Tears welled in its eyes, and a mournful, broken howl escaped its throat—an animal's grief, yes, but also a child's sorrow.
I… I'm sorry, Mommy… I didn't— I didn't mean to…
The voice in Kealix's mind cracked, sobbing through the words like a wound that never closed. It was unbearable. The helplessness carved into him like a blade. He wanted to move, to reach out, to do something—but he couldn't. He was only a spectator in a nightmare that didn't belong to him.
Then the world lurched forward.
Time fractured—sped up.
Kealix blinked, and Fenrir had grown. Towering. Massive. Almost the size he'd been during their battle. But there was a difference now. This Fenrir was alive. Strong. Not the broken, dying creature Kealix had once fought.
The voice returned, quieter now—hollow.
Please… someone… just let me die. End it. Please…
Despair filled every syllable. Kealix felt tears slipping down his cheek, unnoticed. Even now, even as this monstrous form stood before him, it was still a child. Still trapped. Still suffering.
Still begging.
Then—another jolt.
Time shifted again.
A shadow descended.
Something vast—wings—blotted out the light. Kealix turned his gaze upward, and the air left his lungs. Abbynerr.
Color drained from the world. Everything dulled into black and white—the trees, the sky, the blood, Fenrir himself—all pale echoes of themselves. Only Abbynerr remained vivid, its glimmering blue scales shining like carved sapphire against the void.
The black sun hovered beside a black moon in the bleached sky, symbols of some apocalyptic order. And beneath them, the clash of titans was about to begin.
Will you kill me now? the child's voice asked, quiet—resigned.
But Fenrir's body had other plans.
It ran.
Even knowing Abbynerr was far too powerful, it fled. Desperate. Slower than its foe, wounded already in spirit. Kealix could barely track what happened next—only the blur of motion and the aftermath.
Abbynerr charged its breath.
Its wings spread wide, and a brilliant pulse shimmered along its spine before it fired. The beam—it moved faster than Kealix's eyes could follow, faster than thought.
And then Fenrir screamed.
A massive chunk of his back was gone—obliterated. Charred and smoking flesh trailed behind as he staggered but didn't stop.
It hurts… it hurts so much… the voice wept in his head.
Still, the beast kept running.
And then, a tear in reality—the fracture.
Fenrir hurled himself into it without hesitation, desperate to escape the wyvern… and perhaps more than that, to protect what remained of himself. In that split space, time bent again. Kealix saw Fenrir shrink and shrivel, his form contorting into the near-death body they'd encountered before.
A hibernation? Was that how he preserved energy… or pain?
Then—
The other side.
Light.
And people.
Kealix's heart stopped.
Alora.
Nox.
Lucius.
Himself.
All of them standing, frozen in stunned silence, staring up at the broken god-wolf that emerged from the fracture.
It stood motionless.
But it wasn't waiting.
Please… run. I can't control my body. Please… get away!
The voice shrieked, pure terror and sorrow twisted into one.
And that's when Kealix understood.
It wasn't frozen.
It was holding itself back.
Tears streamed down Kealix's cheeks as the weight of the moment crashed over him.
The wolf—wounded, defiant, and heartbreakingly noble—was holding back its attacks, buying Kealix and his friends precious seconds to escape. Even as blood soaked the snow beneath its paws, it chose mercy over violence.
Kealix could only watch, helpless, as Fenrir—the proud beast—was struck down by Abbynerr. The wolf didn't fight the end. It welcomed death with quiet surrender, doing all it could to make its passing swift, painless. But its body betrayed that wish. It convulsed, twisted in agony, refusing to die in peace.
Then, the child's voice—soft, broken—echoed in the fading world.
"The only thing I regret… is never having a real family."
Kealix's breath hitched. He watched as tears welled again in Fenrir's ancient, grieving eyes. The child's sorrow poured through the beast's soul like winter wind over open wounds.
"This man… Could he become my family? He cares so much for his friends. I… I just wanted a second chance. To feel what love—true family—feels like.
I'm sorry, Mommy… I haven't been the best son…"
The voice trembled, cracking with unshed tears. And then, as Kealix turned—torn between his fleeing friends and the dying wolf—something shifted.
A glimmer of light hovered above Fenrir's severed head. Words materialized in the air like frost on glass:
[Do you wish to be adopted by Kealix von Eskarion?]
Time held its breath. Silence wrapped the world in frozen stillness.
And then—
Yes.
[Sending message to Kealix von Eskarion…]
[Awaiting response…]
[Response received.]
[Congratulations, Frost. You have been adopted by Kealix von Eskarion.]
Kealix dropped to his knees in the memory-warped landscape, eyes locked on the fading light in Fenrir's gaze.
"So… you didn't want power. Or vengeance. You just… wanted a family."
His voice cracked, thick with tears.
"Don't worry, kid. I've got you now. I'll take care of you—whatever it takes."
Darkness swept in like a tide, drawing the world back into silence.
[Congratulations. You have fulfilled the requirements to adopt Frost, Wolf of Eternal Winter.]
[You will receive the Mark of the Beast.]
[Returning to the real world…]
As Kealix stirred awake, the first thing he felt was the cold grit of rubble beneath his fingers. Dust clung to his skin like ash—but beneath it, something else. Something warm. Soft.
It nuzzled against his hand with small, rhythmic movements, gentle and real. Then came a wet, sudden lick across his cheek.
Kealix flinched slightly, eyes fluttering open.
There, nestled close, was a pale white pup with luminous blue eyes—the very same he had seen in that dying memory. The voice. The pain. The soul.
Fenrir…
No. Frost.
Returned to his original form.
The pup looked up at him with innocent, glowing eyes, then snuggled against Kealix's chest, as if he were its mother—its home. That soft, ethereal glow clung to the pup's fur: white with a hint of winter blue, the same sacred light the ancient beasts bore. A symbol of power… and of rebirth.
Kealix's chest tightened. Tears welled again, unbidden.
He cradled the little wolf close, his voice rough with emotion as he whispered:
"Don't worry, Frost. I'll take care of you… even if it's the last thing I do."