The revelation left me speechless for a few moments. A pure-blooded magical beast? I thought, my mind racing frantically. It was unprecedented—something that defied even the vast knowledge accumulated by Alexander. Much like vampires and dragons, magical beasts adhered to a strict hierarchy based on the purity of their blood. Those with diluted bloodlines ranked at the bottom of the chain, while the pure-blooded stood at the very pinnacle. Depending on the quality and degree of that purity, pure-blooded magical beasts could be as rare as dragons themselves—creatures of near-mythical status.
“But... but...” The words stumbled out, hesitant, my voice reflecting the confusion and disbelief surging through me.
“After the extermination...”
I stopped, the sentence catching in my throat. A fragmented memory of an event described in one of Alexander’s books surfaced in my mind. Centuries ago, a bloody war had nearly wiped out the pure-blooded magical beasts. Like dragons and giants, they were deemed threats to the balance of power and the dominance of intelligent races. Fear and greed—of humans, elves, dwarves, and even some demon tribes—had sealed the fate of many of these creatures.
“Yes,” the she-wolf responded, as if reading my thoughts. Her voice was calm, yet laden with something I couldn’t quite place—melancholy, perhaps?
“After the extermination, only a few of us remained. It wasn’t just a hunt; it was a purge.”
Her golden eyes bore into mine, and for the first time, I noticed the profound depth of wisdom within them.
Her golden eyes locked onto mine, and for the first time, I noticed the profound depth of both wisdom and pain within them.
“So, how did you survive?” I asked, my voice steadier now despite the initial hesitation.
“I didn’t survive by mere chance,” she replied, her tone grave but laced with a hint of pride.
“My lineage predates the fall, and my ancestors had to pay a great price to endure.”
Her words left me speechless. Standing before such a rare creature and hearing a story that felt as though it had been ripped straight from the pages of legend was something I had never imagined. I watched her, feeling the weight of the history she carried, while the pup nestled beside her, blissfully unaware of the grandeur of its lineage.
My mind, however, refused to stop turning, racing to piece together the fragments of the tale.
“That price,” I began, my voice hesitant but resolute, “was it... the ability to reason?”
The she-wolf remained silent, her golden eyes fixed on mine. There was no disdain, no impatience in her expression—only a quiet weight, as if this moment was yet another confirmation of a burden she had carried for a long time.
“But then... how... how do you manage?” My voice nearly broke, a mix of curiosity and reverence overflowing.
“As you said, my ancestors chose to relinquish reason in order to survive. But that doesn’t mean we became mindless beasts,” she replied, her tone thoughtful, carrying an undertone of pride.
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“We still possess instincts... and a trace of reason.”
‘That makes sense. If they’d lost everything, these wolves wouldn’t be nearly as intelligent as they are,’ I thought, recalling how Dr. Wolf had cared for me with such precision and awareness.
“We also gave up our strength and access to the power of our bloodline,” she continued, her words tinged with deep melancholy.
“But among the descendants of the magical beasts who made this sacrifice, there are anomalies—rare ones, like me—who can tap into fragments of that lineage.”
“But such an anomaly comes at a great cost and much pain,” she added, her voice softening but losing none of its weight.
“I only survived because of a human who helped me. She cared for me, fed me, taught me, and welcomed me into her pack.”
Her tone grew gentler, filled with sincerity and gratitude. “And she was very much like you, pup,” she concluded, her eyes shimmering with a blend of nostalgia and tenderness.
----------------------------------------
Hours had passed since that conversation. I now lay down once again, the faint moonlight bathing my weakened body. I had been fed again, though this time there was no room for resistance. My mind was far too preoccupied with the she-wolf’s revelations.
The conversation had been more fruitful than I could have ever anticipated. I had learned not only about the forest and the purpose of the liquid she had been feeding me—which served as an antidote to specific poisons, including the one coursing through my veins—but also something far more personal: my mother in this world. Alexander’s mother.
It was she who had saved and cared for the white wolf. The wolf’s description matched perfectly with Alexander’s fragmented memories: a woman with warm brown skin and hazel eyes, vibrant and endlessly optimistic, yet trapped in a frail body that contrasted sharply with her boundless energy. The way the she-wolf spoke of her was almost reverent, as though she had been a beacon of light in a world consumed by darkness.
As I remembered her, a subtle ache stirred in my chest. It wasn’t something I could clearly define, but it felt like a blend of longing and regret, as if something precious had been lost before I even had the chance to fully understand its value. I closed my eyes, trying to manage the torrent of emotions threatening to overwhelm me.
‘She must have been extraordinary for Alexander to miss her so deeply’, I thought, her image forming in my mind like a beacon cutting through the shadows.
A small, wistful smile tugged at my lips.
‘But no more extraordinary than my own,’ I reflected with a familiar melancholy. Finally, I sighed, allowing myself a rare moment of vulnerability.
‘It seems Alexander and I have far more in common than I thought.’
My thoughts were interrupted by the faint sound of rustling leaves in the distance. The wolves were gathering again, their howls rising in unison to the full moon, which majestically bathed the clearing in its pale light. It was a surreal and breathtaking sight, their voices weaving a melody that seemed to carry directly into the heavens.
‘This world…’ I thought, my gaze drifting to the stars, which shimmered more brightly that night.
‘...truly is mad.’
The moonlight gave the surrounding trees a silvery hue, while a gentle breeze stirred the leaves, carrying the fresh scent of the forest and the distant murmurs of the untamed wild.
I felt calm. My ears took in every note of the wolves' song, and something within me began to settle. That moment felt frozen in time, a rare fragment of peace amidst the chaos of my journey so far.
No matter how surreal it all seemed, one thing was clear: I was still alive. And in that moment, that was what mattered most.
But as my mind wandered among the stars and the wolves’ song, another question finally surfaced, breaking through the silence.
‘But... how are the others doing?’