The bone cracking sound against wood, echoed across the frozen lake.
It was followed by a sharp cry and cut short by a gasp for air. On the training ground, carved in the mountain's peak, boys of no more than ten scrambled backward on the ground, clutching a wrist that had already become purple.
"AGAIN!!"
This voice was like the cold ice. Master Durai stood with his arms crossed, his thick furs doing little to hide the sheer power of his frame. He was the head of this village—The Wolf's Den—and his gaze was colder than the waters of Antarctica.
"But, Master have mercy—" the boys whimpered.
"Did the Bear Clan show for your father?" Durai roared. The other children, all bruised and shivering, flinched. "Does the Eagle Clan pity your tears? No! They wait for your weakness. We are the Wolves. We do not show weakness. We do not have any weakness. AGAIN!!"
The boy, tears freezing on his cheeks, got to his feet and raised his wooden knife.
This was the Wolf's Den, one of the five hidden villages of the high peaks, and by far the strongest. Their strength came from this pain, discipline, and the Way of the Wolf. It was a fighting style of brutal and adaptability—some students were taught the unmoving and solid defense of the Mountain. Others were taught the fluid, deceptive, and constant motion of the river. It was all designed to end a fight within seconds.
The training was cut short by the sound of boots on the gravel path leading to the ground. A man, not younger than Durai, stood in front of the students. They looked at him as if they saw a saint.
Durai's barked command died in his throat. His posture changed, "Sebastian."
"Master Durai," the man replied, bowing his head slightly. He was the village's best trainer, though he rarely appeared at the dawn drills, People feared only by his name.
"You are hard on them." Whispering to Master Durai.
"The world is harder," Durai grunted, turning his back on the children. "You are all dismissed."
The children scattered, snatching their meager packs and running for the warmth of the village-house, leaving the two masters alone on the Ground.
"It has been a while, my friend," Durai said.
"My work keeps me inside," Sebastian said. He gestured to the empty ground. "How are the new cubs?"
"Weak. But they will learn."
"And the boy? Eiden?"
A shadow flickered across Durai's head. "Killian's son is... a problem. All instinct and no discipline. He can master any combat style, better than any I have seen, but he cannot focus. He can use the axe, the knife, the staff but cannot master a specific weapon. He is... a Jack of all trades. And as always he refuses to even touch a rifle. He fears them. A wolf who is afraid of a tool. Just pathetic."
"Perhaps," Sebastian said quietly, "His focus is simply on what he knows will work. He is a brawler, Durai. Like you used to be."
Durai shot him a sharp look, but Sebastian continued, his voice heavy. "I did not come to speak of the children, Durai. I came to speak of her."
The air between them instantly went cold.
"The pact," Sebastian stated. "It has been sixteen years. Sixteen years we have searched for a trace of her. The village is tired. These children are training for a war that is not even theirs, while you are looking for a ghost."
"A ghost??" Durai questioned, his hands clenching into fists.
"Let them go," Sebastian pleaded, "Let the village be free. This... this oath... it is a sickness. It's killing you and the villagers."
"Sickness?" Durai exploded, his voice echoed off the peaks. "You call our duty a sickness?"
The few villagers walking the high paths below froze, shocked by the outburst.
"You have forgotten the Way of the Wolf, old friend!" Durai bellowed, pointing a thick finger at Sebastian. "You have forgotten the blood we owe! The debt we must pay!"
"A debt to whom, Durai? A dead woman?"
Durai's glance was inhuman. He turned as his fur cloak was swirling, he slammed a fist into a training post. The thick wood split with a sound of thunderclap.
He stormed off the ground, his heavy boots pounding the earth as he made his way towards his study in the village's high tower, leaving a stunned Sebastian alone.
Sebastian let out a long breath. He looked sad. He turned and began the long walk back down the gravel path, into the heart of the village.
The Den was made on the mountainside.
Houses made of strong timber wood and river stones. All connected by winding roads and sturdy bridges.
Smokes coming from the chimneys from burning coal and roasting meat. The people around there- nodded to him as he passed them.
But they were wary. They had heard the shouting.
He was so lost in his thoughts, his head was down, that he didn't see the young man sprinting up the road until it was too late.
"Oomph!"
Sebastian was knocked clear off his feet, landing on his back as a tall, young man stumbled over him.
"Oh, saints! Master Sebastian!" the young man scrambling to help him up. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't looking, I was-"
"It is... quite alright, Oliver," Sebastian groaned, rubbing his head as he got up.
Oliver brushed the dust from his masters' cloak, his face has a mask of sincere apology. He was a boy of critical thinking, with a quick, easy smile and had eyes that always seemed to be moving, taking notes of everything. "Are you hurt? I was just running towards the armory, Charlotte needed-"
"I am fine. I was Just... weighed down by my own thoughts."
Oliver's smile faded, replaced by a worried look. "Heard that sound from the ground. You and the Old Wolf?"
Sebastian sighed, leaning against a rail overlooking the valley below. "He is going to kill himself, Oliver. This obsession with finding Lady Evergreen is unreal... it's been sixteen years and he is still chasing a ghost and he is going to drag the whole village into a grave with him."
"OLIVER!"
A girl's sharp and breathless voice. Emma skid around the corner, her cheeks pink from the cold. She stopped after seeing the two of them.
"Master Sebastian," she said, quickly composing herself and giving a respectful bow. "My apologies." She then immediately looked at Oliver with worried eyes, poking him hard in the chest.
"You absolute turnip! Where have you been? Sister Charlotte is going to kill you. She has already picked out the weapon that she will use to skin you and make a new pair of boots from that skin. She's been muttering about 'Hundred different ways to skin a goat,' and I'm pretty sure you're that goat."
"Emma, I—" Oliver protested. "Master Sebastian was just telling me about Master Durai, he's—"
"He was just reminding me of my duties," Sebastian cut in smoothly, his voice calm and firm, silencing Oliver.
He gave the boy a warning look before turning a smile on Emma.
"Though, I am surprised to see you. I assumed you would be on the south perimeter with Eiden."
Emma's face went a shade pinker. "Oh. Well... he said he preferred to go alone," she mumbled, looking down at the snow. "You know how he is. Said this didn't need two people."
A slow, heavy CRUNCH... CRUNCH... on the gravel announced a fourth arrival.
Liam appeared from the lower path. He walked with a grim look on his face, his dark messy hair stole the eyes of all the girls around the area. He carried a heavy, iron-banded Axe over one shoulder. He wasn't a big fan of Oliver's happy energy—Just raw and simmering power.
He walked right past Sebastian and Emma, stopping inches from Oliver.
"You."
Oliver's panicked look vanished, replaced by a weak and worried smile. "Liam! My friend! Just the man I was hoping to see. Listen, I need to ask you a-"
"Master Zhola has sent a letter," Liam cut him off, his voice a low growl. "Guess your time on this planet is finally up." He pulled a sealed scroll from his belt and tossed it to Oliver.
Oliver fumbled with it, his smile dying as he broke the seal. His eyes scanned the document, and all the color drained from his face. "St. Swithin's? In... in England? By tomorrow?"
"One of our EYES needs pulling," Liam scoffed, leaning on his back. "Someone sent a coded message. Found about something important. Got caught with that information and now he's running for his life. Needs immediate extraction."
"But... alone?" Oliver looked desperately at Liam. "I have to go during this war! Liam, you have to come with me. Please!"
"I have my own drills," Liam refused. "Besides, you're Eiden's 'best friend,' aren't you? You should live upto his standers. Go be useful for a change. Or is brawling the only thing you're good at?"
"St. Swithin's Royal Academy," Sebastian said, his voice quiet and distant. All three turned to look at him. A strange, nostalgic shadow passed over the master's face. "A very... particular place. I was once a student there."
Emma and Oliver stared; their jaws open.
"If you are going, Oliver," Sebastian continued, his gaze sharp and serious, "you must be careful. That academy is a completely different experience in itself. The kind that wears silk ties and smiles as they make you bleed. It is a world away from this mountain, and in many ways, far more dangerous."
"WHAT IN THE SEVEN HILLS ARE YOU TWO EVEN DOING HERE????"
That roar came from a female voice. Charlotte marched up the path with anger. She was the oldest of the group. Her face was sharp and she was as intelligent as Sebastian. She wore her leather gear like a second skin. Unlike Eiden, she had no fear of guns. So, she carried around a heavy revolver that was strapped to her thigh.
"Oliver!" she snapped. "I called you at the armory an hour ago, I needed that rifle shipment cataloged before Master Durai's inspection!"
Oliver got back sensing a slap. "Charlie, I'm so sorry, I ran into Master Sebastian, and then Liam, and there's this mission-"
"Emma!" Charlotte continued, ignoring him. "You're on watch! What are you doing here?"
"I was just... looking for Oliver!" Emma somehow spoke out being in complete fear.
"And Liam," Charlotte sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Just... go hit something. You're giving me a headache."
Liam merely grunted and stalked away without another word.
"Oliver, armory. Now!" Charlotte commanded.
"But, Charlie, the mission-"
"First of all, I AM NOT CHARLIE and second, I will HEAR about the mission in the armory," she said, "while you are counting the goddamn bullets. NOW Go!"
Oliver gave Sebastian one last, panicked look and then scrambled up the path, with Charlotte marching right behind him. Emma, giving Sebastian another quick bow and hurried off in the opposite direction.
Sebastian watched them go, a faint smile on his lips. "Cubs," he muttered. He turned and looked down at the valley, his expression turning grim once more. "Now... to deal with the Old Wolf."
Eiden Killian hated perimeter watch.
It was cold and boring. And it was exactly what Master Durai had assigned him after he'd failed to focus during the morning weapon drills.
He was stationed in a cluster of rocks overlooking the small, allied village of Sun-Ford, a half-dozen miles away from the Den. His job was to watch for some thieves. But so far, all he had seen were goats.
"Pathetic?" he muttered, echoing the word Durai had used to describe him.
He wasn't pathetic. He just... didn't see the point. Why spend a year mastering a single axe-form, like Liam, when a good, solid punch to the throat worked just as well? Why learn the "subtle" art of the knife when you could disarm the man and break his arm? He didn't fear guns, not really. He just thought they were... clumsy. Impersonal.
A high-pitched scream that came from the village nearby cut through his thoughts.
Eiden started running even before he'd even processed the sound, vaulting from his rocky perch and sprinting down rocks, his feet silent on the packed snow. He didn't draw a weapon. More like he didn't need one.
He was at the village square in seconds, skidding to a halt in front of the storehouse with a broken door.
"Old Man Hemlock!" he shouted. "Are you-"
A large, fur-clad man came out from the shadows of the storehouse, a heavy club swinging right for Eiden's head.
Eiden didn't flinch nor did he block. He got inside the swing with a fluid river-like motion that brought him chest-to-chest with the large man. The club went harmlessly past his ear. Eiden's right palm struck upward, a hard, sharp blow to the chin.
The man's eyes almost came out. His soul left his body in a single hit and he collapsed without a sound.
"Bear Clan," Eiden noted after seeing the claw tattoo on the man's neck.
A second thief came after hearing the sound. This one smaller and faster. He threw a punch at Eiden's gut.
Eiden met the attack head-on, his left forearm slamming against the man's wrist. The man felt pain beyond believe. He cried out as his fingers went numb. Eiden grabbed the man and started spinning him. He used his own momentum to slam him against the wall.
The third and largest man of the group stood on the doorway with a stolen sack of grain in his hands. He stared eye-wide opened at his two companions. Both of them were now on the ground.
"Leave the food there, I don't want it to go to waste." Eiden said. His voice was calm. Almost bored.
The big man screamed and dropped the sack. He charged at Eiden with the axe in his arm for a blow.
Eiden waited. One beat... Two beats.
"Now."
He ducked under the swingof the axe. The axe got stuck in the wooden door-frame because of that swing. Eiden's threw out a punch, hitting the man on the jaw and snapping his head back. As the man started falling, Eiden's right elbow slammed into his ribs,
The thief landed with a ground-shaking blow bouncing off the wooden floor.
It was over in less than a few seconds.
Eiden stood there in the silence, breathing easily. He looked down at the three groaning, defeated thieves.
He straightened his back, brushing off a bit of snow.
"How pathetic."
The path back to the Den went through the woods. Old trees with black trunks they looked as if they were touching the sky. Their roots looked like claws that were gripping the soil. It was always dark here.
Eiden walked without a sound.
A branch snapped above him.
Eiden did not even look up. "Hello, Noah."
A young man landed lightly on the path. He had a wide smile and arms as thick as a small tree branch. It was Noah.
"You saw me?" Noah shocked. "I was being silent!"
"You were breathing, Noah."
Noah's smile vanished. He said, "I am the strongest!" he declared. "The masters say you are strong. Stronger than me. They lie. Fight me, Eiden! Prove you are better than me!"
He dropped into a clumsy fighting stance.
Eiden sighed. He saw Noah as a little brother. A very loud little brother. He sidestepped Noah's stance and kept walking.
"Maybe later, Noah," Eiden said. "I just fought three Bear Clan thieves. You want to fight me when I am tired? When I am weak? That is not a fair test."
Noah's eyes went wide. "Three? At once? Did you win?"
"They are tied up in Hemlock's shed."
Noah dropped his stance. He puffed out his chest. "Fine. I will let you rest. You need to be at your best to fight me!"
He started walking beside Eiden. They walked home together.
They reached the Den's main hall. It was warm and smelled of stew.
Emma was there. She ran up to Eiden, her face full of worry. "You're back! Were you alright? We heard about the thieves."
Eiden smiled. "Just some thieves." He looked at the people of the Den. Everyone in the Den was like his family.
He looked past her. He saw Oliver by the hall's main door. Oliver was stuffing clothes into a pack. Charlotte stood over him, checking a list.
"Oliver?" Eiden said. "Where are you going?"
Oliver looked up. He looked pale but he tried to smile. "Have to go to England. Master's orders."
"I spent an hour with the maps and files," Charlotte said. Her voice was low. "It's not good. The school is on an island. Just off the coast. It's for the sons of rich lords and politicians. They are surrounded by high walls and old rules. The war is bad in England. The Germans are bombing the cities. This place is a fortress. But it's also a target. Getting in is hard. Getting out with a spy will be harder."
"And Liam won't come..." Oliver muttered, looking down.
Charlotte zipped Oliver's bag with a sharp pull. "You will be fine. You are a Wolf. Now go. The transport leaves in ten minutes."
Charlotte's words faded. The wind of the mountain peak became the damp and cold air of an English port town.
Oliver pulled his thin coat tight. He had been traveling for two days. This town was gray. Rain slicked the cobblestone streets. Brick buildings were dark with moss. Men in flat caps hurried past. A real military truck rumbled by. The air smelled of coal smoke and the sea.
He had to find the spy. The address from the letter was a bust. The building was just a pile of bricks. Bombed.
Oliver walked the streets. He listened. He watched. He went into a pub and sat at a table with a drink. He tried listening to the men talk. They talked about rationing. They talked about the war. No one mentioned a man who looked like their man. One drink turned into ten more. But there were no leads there.
After a day of searching, he found a new lead. A barmaid. "You're looking for a nervous man? Tries to hide his face? He rents a room above the old tannery. Near the river."
While going there something felt off. Oliver could sense it.
Oliver found the apartment. The door was unlocked. He pushed it open slowly. The room was small. It smelled bad. A man was in the corner. He was stuffing papers into a briefcase.
The man saw Oliver. His eyes went wide with terror. "No! They found me!" He threw the briefcase at Oliver's head. He ran out the back door.
"Wait!" Oliver shouted. "I'm from the Den!"
But the man was already gone. Oliver ran after him.
The chase was fast. Down a dark alley. Over a brick wall. They ran past piles of rubble. The spy was fast. But Oliver was a Wolf. He was faster.
He finally tackled the man on a small dock by the river.
"Listen to me!" Oliver gasped. He held the man down. "I am here to help! Master Zhola sent—"
BANG.
The spy's body jerked. A dark, wet spot spread on his chest. Oliver stared. He felt the man go limp.
Another shot. A bullet chipped the wood by Oliver's head.
Oliver reacted. He grabbed the spy and dragged him behind a stack of wet barrels. "No, no, no," Oliver whispered. He was terrified. He pressed his hand to the man's chest. So much blood.
The man looked at him. His eyes were wide open with joy. "You... you are one of them? A Wolf?" He smiled lightly
"Yes!" Oliver said. His voice was shaking. "Don't worry. You will be fine. I will get you out."
The man grabbed Oliver's coat. He pulled him close. His voice was a wet whisper. "No time... Listen... I found it... I found... her..."
"What?"
"Evergreen... She is alive... She is at the academy... St. Swithin's..."
The man's eyes went blank. His hand fell away. He was dead.
Oliver stared. He was frozen. Evergreen is alive.
BANG!
A bullet hit a metal barrel. Oliver snapped back. They knew where he was. He was trapped. He looked at the dead spy. He looked at the dark, cold river.
He could not die here. If he died, the message died. He had to get home.
Oliver took a deep breath. He grabbed the spy's briefcase. He sprinted to the edge of the dock.
And
Jumped
The black, icy water swallowed him
[End of Chapter-1]