Freki.

***

It was strange. The sense of wholeness I felt upon stepping foot in that magnificent realm. Although, it would've been more accurate to say I returned. Yes, I returned to a long-lost home. A home I had forgotten. Yet one I knew my way around still. Even without following my nose, I could find the path to the world set within a world that was the Silverstream Forest.

My sister, Geri, appeared there at the same moment we did. Geri, along with her winter wolves, and us, were stupefied in awe for hours before we gave chase to the vibrant stags darting across the land. Pulled by our bestial instincts, we hunted and ran beneath an oceanic expanse that stretched across the curved ceiling of Eotrom's heart. Enduring the rains befalling us from the colossal orcas and dolphins breaching the heavenly sea above.

In opposing directions, the winter and summer wolves ran, unknowingly beckoned by voices both familiar and foreign rather than our instincts. In our case, we followed the beckoning of the verdant fields and colossal forests at the equator, wherein a pack of canid behemoths stood in wait. The largest of them stood over nine meters tall. Yet every sneering snout in sight was of the same hue as the pelt strewn across my shoulders- the darkest black, with streaks of gold, purples, and reds around a snout large enough to engulf a horse.

It was he, the largest and eldest, who spoke to us with reverence; announcing himself as the first son of Skoll, Lycaon. A Seasonal Wolf, as we were. It was him, one of my sons, who taught us about our pact with the Man Inside the Moon. It was he who made us remember the contract we made with him. The curse I received and passed on, and what that meant in the future.

Wolves of the World Weaver came in many forms. There were the Lunar Wolves of Mani, the Spectral Wolves of the Cosmos, or the augmented wolves of Ilium and the Iris, as well as paragon wolves and their arcane variants; all divine creatures. All with mortal counterparts. The Seasonal Wolves, however, were different. Born from Skoll and Hati's refusal to become divine, they instead became celestial. Canines of Summer and Autumn. Wolves of Winter and Spring. Packs of Meteors and Comets. World-hoppers. Gardeners and destroyers. Star and moon-chasers. Explorers and builders.

Through Lycaon's teachings, we learned the extent of our twin powers, Summer and Autumn.

The power of summer was that of the high sun. The power of fire and heat. Of lightning and rain; maturity and flora. Of light.

The power of autumn was that of the falling sun. The power of earth and cold. Of wind and drought; reaping and abundance. Of darkness.

It was with those powers that we took our wise rocks and left the Silverstream forest. Again moving to opposing ends of the void around Mani to create our worlds. Worlds unlike any other, in the sense that they were large enough to be new systems entirely.

At the core of ours was, of course, my world. A sphere of mostly gas that was so large in mass that its core generated heat and glowed red. Despite that, the Archives described it as a Brown Dwarf. Yet the output of light and heat was unlike any of those dwarves seen within said records; or Eotrom. My world shed enough light for ten agricultural planetary moons to thrive and for dozens, if not hundreds, of smaller moons to serve as our hunting grounds. Yet, it was not without structure. The core was a solid sphere of molten metal and volcanic stone that made fertile fields for our celestial prey and plateaus for our sprawling camps, wherein we smashed our brains together day in and day out to bring my dreams of agricultural dominance to fruition.

Our training began after the formation of the first planetary moons. That was how eager we were to begin. Or rather, that was how avaricious we were.

First came the crop moon, where everything from cereals and root crops to fruits, vegetables, and vineyards stretched to all horizons. Then came the moon of livestock, for every meat and dairy product one could imagine. Followed by the third, the moon of Mariculture, giving us seafood, shellfish, kelp, and more. When Amun arrived for our lessons, we wove a moon for industrial or commercial crops; oilseeds, fiber crops like faerie flax and cotton, tobacco, hemp, hops; an entire country of burnbud, as well as country-sized plots for rubber, sugarcane, and other aromatic, culinary, or medicinal herbs either gathered from afar or created by the others. Like olive trees.

The first harvest came shortly after we wove the moon of lumber; complete with softwoods, hardwoods, magical lumber, and divine timber alike. So it was that I wove the moon of alcohol afterward. I filled its surface with farms like the first moon, but with the intent of turning each morsel into a drip of some kind in the caverns below ground. Whether it be ale, mead, wine, spirits, or even vinegar, didn't matter. We would produce. We would provide for us, Eotrom, and beyond. The same was the case for the moon of Magical Crops. They brought many magical flowers, fruit, vegetable, or tree found below above to cultivate en masse; as was the dark moon, a seemingly dead sphere of vast caverns hosting exotic roots, moss, and many, many types of subterranean fungi.

Our last moons were the only ones not woven for the sake of production. Their purpose was in processing and logistics; however, that was not to say their specialties were isolated. On the contrary, each moon had localized facilities sprawling deep underground. Or, in some cases, in orbit. For example, those on the processing moon took fruits, vegetables, and meat from the first moons to underground factories to be sliced, diced, or crushed into cans, bottles, or that strange plastic stuff while seeds and other vegetables were dried or crushed them into oils. The same as the textile crops being woven into fabrics or the tobacco and burnbud being dried and cured before being packaged in bulk.

With the second to last moon, however, its role in processing went much further. Factories and production facilities spanned the moon from its core to the edge of its orbit. Many of them boasted undead trained in Sam's kitchen to cook and prepare made-ready food in several methods; not just for the Legions, the Mafia, and Eotrom, but for wherever we made business. Therein lay the purpose of the furthest moon. The largest, by far. A slow-orbiting world filled with storage units, warehouses, rift ports, and freight yards. It came into operation shortly before the end of our first year. But of course, we never ceased training throughout this time.

In the deepest hours of the morning, Lycaon would teach us to temper our rage, master our transformations, and hone our senses to their fullest. In time, we grew to transition seamlessly between our forms and use our latent powers with ease, quickening the combat lessons imposed by Etan upon his arrival at dawn. But not the ones given by Amun upon his departure.

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While his clone was always present, Amun's voice seemed to always echo in my mind. Bringing with it visions and revelations that shattered my perceptions to dust. At other times, a bumbling head with floating metal arms appeared to speak on his behalf. On yet more occasions, a skeleton or shadow would arrive to teach us the basics of some skill or impart some wisdom, coupled with historical knowledge from Amun's first life.

Over the first few months, we learned arithmetics and gained literacy in several languages through instruction. The dwarven tongue and their Darkworld variants. The language of the elves, and of drow, including their hand codes. We learned the goblin, orc, and halfling tongues and the Draconic dialects. And through the teachings of Lycaon and later, Reina, we learned enough of the sacred druidic arts to communicate with the creatures of Mani and make the most of our sorcery.

The way the lessons would transition at some point in the day went unnoticed by us. It would just happen. We would be doing one thing and find ourselves studying our occupations the next. Learning the many ways in which food could be grown. Agriculture, aeroponics, hydroponics, aquaponics, horticulture, botany. And of permaculture, ranching, brewing, dairy processing, and virtually everything else that revolved around growing, hunting, foraging, processing, and storing food. On and on until dusk came, wherein Etan returned to fight. Yet, the day was not complete when he melded into the distance, for an undead would come to take his place. The most hated face of my undead mother. My Umbra Emperor, known only as the Ice Queen of Shujen.

To me, she would speak about the dark plains of existence. The Shadow Realm, the Underworld, the Darkworld, and the Void. She spoke to me about life and death. Of the hubris, pride, and greed that consumed the minds of so many mortals- of mortals like her.

She showed me what happened once a mortal life came to an end. In turn, I saw the insignificance of all the rage, pain, and suffering mortals so often experienced in their lives. By witnessing the futility of chasing mental obsessions bodily pleasures- the never-ending cycle of want that often gave rise to the Culture- she helped me understand the significance of living for myself. To simply live, not for wealth, exotic bed partners, or fame, but for inner peace. She showed me how and, more importantly, why to live for the simple fulfillment of the soul. I stepped into a state of enlightenment. And in doing so, I opened the doors to studies of the unimaginable.

We learned advanced mathematics, science, and art to such a degree that we gained dominion over plants without magic. With those capabilities merged with our magic, we modified existing plant species or spliced different ones together to create a specific outcome, then used that knowledge to increase yields and keep the soil of our worlds healthy. Or to improve the soil of dead worlds.

Complex and confusing, these things were in their own right. But not as confusing as the study of magic and mana. The numbers and concepts he imposed on us were difficult at first. But through experiment and observations- through testing and retesting- they could be reconciled with. But the unpredictability of magic and the volatile nature of mana were different. With it, I could protect myself from harm. I could bend nature to my will. I could even walk and run freely through the air. All things I had gotten used to with the enchanted clothes provided to me. However, mastering the techniques using my power proved quite an arduous task. Still, we were up for the challenge and indeed enjoyed it. At least until the lessons grew more abstract and varied come the second year.

As we did with them, the Troupe came to our system to impart knowledge and teach us skills. Of course, others were already present. Namely Amun and Etan, who respectively taught us the art of enchanting and developed a unique fighting style for our pack; mostly by introducing us to the lifestyle of knights and their ways of combat, but with aspects of other classes as well.

Iris was the first of them to appear from afar, however, arriving with lessons on agricultural technology. Tractors, harvesters, milking units, and a million other machines for the harvest. Additionally, she built machines within us, giving us control of the ever-increasing array of technology in ways we could have never believed.

It was then that I got a taste of madness, for each new visitor required us to remodel and re-fabricate our fleets into something more.

The Winter Wolves appeared just after Iris departed. From them, we learned how to create high-powered motors and engines. Then learned to fabricate a chassis, a suspension, a transmission, and all the other parts of an autonomous wagon before we repeated the process for the air and sea. Soon enough, we were creating vehicles that could compete with Geri's. Not that we needed to, however. Speed was their specialty. But our mastery of creating vehicles coupled with our profession made for a preferred style of vehicle unseen among the Troupe- but not Amun. So, when the others arrived to help us create our Umas, they were surprised to see our designs lying in wait beside our celestial cadavers. Yet, they took no time getting to work, teaching us how to do the work ourselves.

The work yielded 57 wolf-shaped trains of varying sizes. Or perhaps 57 train-shaped wolves. In either case, they traveled through the land, air, and water on smoldering rails and used smoke to slip through space. Trains unlike any other, boasting a locomotive, freight car, residential car, industrial car, and more packed into a single 40-meter-long caboose.

With Blude's help, we filled parts of them with offices, guest suites, and rest facilities while we took culinary lessons from Sam and made our own ranges and other kitchen hardware. Then, my sister returned. If only to teach us how to build hangars and maintenance bays within our vehicles while Redd taught us how to build cities in the lands we found afar.

Wilson. Leary. Reina. Iris once more. They all arrived to teach us their crafts and guide us in creating more facilities on our worlds and in our vehicles. We learned of the chemicals and nutrients plants and animals depended on and were taught what to look for if any certain thing received too much or too little of some other thing that would result in a lower state of health. The lessons continued with us learning how to make fertilizer or nutrient mists to support or sustain crops. We created recycling centers for bone, discarded flesh, and inorganic trash. Moreover, we set up freight lines between the industries of those latter three, giving them the means to make marvels out of our garbage. In doing so, we learned more about medicine and witchcraft, gaining the capacity to use our abundant herbs to their utmost potential.

Rickley arrived at the end of that second year to teach us about controlled decomposition, poisonous crops, and entertainment; and to assist my bards in creating theaters and hidden cairns within their circuses or speakeasies. In turn, she became infatuated with the Fruitful Four's Bardic Schools of Revelry, Bar keeping, Circuses, and Advertisement.

Etan and Amun began spending more time with the pack at the start of the third and final year. First, to assist us in constructing training halls, mental clinics, temples, and engineering workshops brimming with arcane energy. Then to fight.

Ceaselessly. We warred across worlds to the death. We warred over the stars to the bitter end. We trained and developed ourselves into paragons using the favored killing tool of our God. The humble spear. We studied the art of war and ourselves, honing our proficiencies with our natural and chosen weapons. Claws and maw, and in my case, a meteor-ball and scalding chain. For what felt like eons, we'd war without the aid of magic or even rage, down on Etan's accursed world. Through that, we improved until we became meteors of destruction ourselves.

In reality, however, it was only a year. A single year of endless strife. That was what it took to build the foundation for what would become the Black Wolf Brigade. But before that foundation was to be built upon, there was one final thing to do- awaken our affinity cores.