Fenrir's Killers: The HUNT Begins!
Rushing across the snowy biome...
His Hunters Hunt...
Yet They're unaware of threats that ROAM...
She stalks their scent...
While They hunt in bliss...
But, Her thoughts are quiet…
as she runs in silence...
For this might be the night...
She's MAULED or She’s SILENCED...
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"Aerin is here!"
Cyrus screams joyfully before an audience of over two hundred Lycans, gesturing toward his approaching brother amidst the falling snow. The full moon's light brilliantly shines over the village hidden in the icy forest, all of which have called it home for the last several centuries, and as Aerin pulls his hood off and gazes out at all those starstruck eyes watching him, he feels something. It's a feeling he's rarely able to describe. They're all silent, even the Inner Circle members watching from behind the young man.
He needs to say something, but he's frozen in place; he's unsure what to say. His subjects keep watching, never bothered by their Chosen's silence; it's as if they sensed his anxiety, and gave him as much time as needed. Aerin exhales, closing his eyes and clenching his fists. He's cursing in his head; he's trying to control himself.
"Say something, you dumbass..." he tells himself, then opens his eyes, not realizing Frostbite's approach until mid-sentence. The Vargr beast nudged under Aerin's shaking hand while his master talked, instantly draining much of the man's anxiety. "Earlier today, I lashed out in frustration during one of the most sacred events in our culture..." he pauses and exhales. Cyrus crosses his arms while standing back near the rest. His features are calm and relaxed; his faith shows. Anesthesia spectates with a smile, while Kraven and Ymir watch on in stalwart silence. This was their King's moment; what would he say to justify his actions? Aerin hesitates, looking off to the side before those enchanted eyes turn toward his audience again, and Aerin suddenly kneels in front of them all.
Everyone watching froze; their silence was more shocking now compared to their silence of understanding. Their Chosen kneeled to them; it was an unbelievable sight many couldn't grasp. Yet, they remain silent, enchanted by Aerin's next words.
"As your King, I apologize..." Aerin says, earning gasps from his people. He raises his head, looking at them with newfound resolve in those forever-blessed and enchanted blue eyes of his. "I nearly lost myself after announcing that I quit the Inner Circle..." he pauses again, that anxiety building inside. He quickly quells it, though, and steps forward toward his subjects, his hand pressing against his heart.
"But, then one of you not only searched for me..." he alludes to Roxy without seeing her; he'll never forget how she saved him. "She also called out to me and even risked her life protecting me..." he says, drawing his Warwolf Blade and holding it high, a testament to the newfound spirit of his voice. "She reminded me of something I've nearly grown apathetic to; I care about all of us Lycans! I understand that regardless of how I feel, a King does not let His Lycans live without His protection!" he howls with confidence, and His Lycans erupt with applause! They're thrilled! Even Cyrus can't hide his proud smile, while Aerin suddenly feels a rushing wave of Primordial Strength coursing through his Wolf-Blessed Soul; it's the best dopamine high he's ever experienced. This was his first speech ever, and he flashed the slightest, adrenaline-fueled smile at his people, then sheathes his sword before opening his arms to them all. He's feeling himself now...
"Tonight, WE HUNT!" Aerin screams with an aura reminiscent of Him as the cold air stings his lungs.
The Lycans howl in return! Anesthesia suddenly feels the same lust for her King that many others feel as well...
"He is fucking hypnotizing when he's confident..." Anesthesia muses in the background, her heart fluttering at the sight of Aerin's handsome form much to Cyrus's joking annoyance. She never looks at him like that; Cyrus might be...
"I'm confident all the time and give the best speeches, though?" Cyrus argues and furrows his brow when looking her way, and Anesthesia's sultry green eyes flick their gaze back at him. Surprisingly, Anesthesia agrees with Cyrus. However, it's not the way Cyrus expected...
"You are a great man, too. However," she casually says, pointing his way in an informative matter. "I never said you weren't enchanting when you do your thing; I merely acknowledged that Aerin is also enchanting. You should stop trying to make comparisons with your little brother, Cyrus; you'll head down a path of self-destruction. Plus, it's honestly small dick energy," she forewarns with a jabbing insult born from playful annoyance, and Cyrus snorts. He's not offended by her words. In fact, he smiles.
"Comparing myself to other people is how I always keep improving, love," Cyrus counters, winking at her thinking he's won. Anesthesia, quick as always, fires back. She's always ready to argue, and even more ready when she's in the right.
"Then make sure your comparisons remain free of jealousy and stay pure. It's easier than you think to get lost in one's ego," the female Lycan says with a hum. Cyrus eye rolls and dismisses her, looking at his little brother again with a smile. Aerin's still hyping up the crowd. The roar of excitement and anticipation fills the air with barely visible magical energy born through their Brotherhood, and all of them feel His Gaze increasing their strength. This magical, yet naturally biological phenomenon is empowered by the Full Moon, pushing the Lycans to their greatest heights. This is an event they'd all always remember.
Aerin turns and faces the rest of the Inner Circle, drawing their knowing eyes as they get into position. It's time. Cyrus stays at the forefront of the gathered formation with Aerin, while Kraven moves to the rear, and the two women to opposite sides. They all act as chaperones and protectors at the outermost edges of the formation, with Aerin at the helm. Cyrus lightly taps his slightly smaller and leaner brother's shoulder, his voice relaxingly joyful.
"Are you ready for this, Aerin?" Cyrus asks, giving his brother a toothy smile as Aerin's readying himself. Aerin glances Cyrus's way, shaking his head as he responds with a noticeably adrenaline-fueled voice; he's nervous.
"Fuck no! I've been shivering with adrenaline ever since fucking getting here," Aerin curses, laughing as he does. Cyrus breaks out laughing, too before slapping Aerin's back again; he loves this awkward bastard...
"Well, good thing you've got experience now, yeah?" Cyrus keeps grinning, and Aerin shrugs. The younger brother looks ahead at the forest with a calming exhale; he's got a great role model next to him...
"Seeing you do it enough gave me an idea of what to do," Aerin responds, and Cyrus freezes, genuinely shocked to hear that; his heart flutters, but he maintains his composure. Aerin catches his brother's sudden silence and lofts his brow. "What?" he asks in concern, and Cyrus snaps out of his daze, now shaking his head.
"Nothing!" Cyrus assures, looking behind at the others before glancing Aerin's way. "Looks like everyone's in position; it's your call when to start, King!" he beams at his brother, and Aerin nods. The silver-haired Lycan looks toward the large, snow-covered path through the Boreal Forest leading to the tundra; He knows the path to take, and he knows their destination and their prey. All that's left is to...
Here He goes...
Aerin sheathes his sword and clasps his hands together in front of him; he's focusing on that Power...
A bluish-white rush of Bestial Energy swirls to life in ethereal wisps encircling him as his enchanted eyes spark with energy. The young King quickly realizes this strength and seizes His Attention...
Aerin's heart manifests...
"FENRIR! AWAK--"
A fleeting moment of dread stabs his heart...
He freezes; pierced with ...
Her intent speaks to Him; yet, She's not there...
"I've. Found. You!"
...
"I'll. Slaughter. You. All..."
Aerin staggers forward, stunned by that brief feeling, and his amassing energy vanishes. He nearly collapses in the snow, shocking everyone. Cyrus rushes to his brother's side, resting his hands on his shoulder as his grey eyes intensely search for injuries. "Aerin! Are you okay!? What's wrong??" he barrages Aerin with questions, but Aerin's ignorant of anything Cyrus is saying; he's too gripped with fear; a fear that's gone as quickly as it pierced his soul...
"What was that feeling?" Aerin wonders as his hand clutches his chest; a shellshocked look in his eyes...
He swore someone stabbed Him...
... ... ...
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He can't stop overthinking it...
"AERIN!" Cyrus yells, growing frighteningly concerned at his brother's lacking response. Aerin immediately snaps out of his thoughts in a cold sweat, his shuddering vision fixing itself at the recognition of his ally and brother. He faces Cyrus, then stands up and nods; he's fine now...
"Yeah, I'm good..." Aerin assures his suspicious brother, waving him off while holding his head with his other hand. "I still haven't recovered from the earlier transformation; Fenrir requires a lot of power. The magical overload is stronger than it'd be for a regular transformation; I've got it this time, though," he adds on while keeping his true feelings a secret. He's not sabotaging another moment of the festival, especially after he's apologized for doing it earlier. Cyrus eyes Aerin for a long moment as if analyzing the truth of his brother's words through his body language. Thankfully, though, Aerin's a phenomenal liar when he wants to be. Cyrus eventually buys Aerin's lie, then shrugs before assuring the concerned ones behind them.
"He's alright! Just some fatigue from earlier! We're good!" Cyrus eases the others watching them, and the Inner Circle members nod before Cyrus looks Aerin's way again. "Let's take it from the top, little brother," he says full of support, and Aerin nods again. The younger brother goes through the motions again while ignoring that feeling. At the zenith of his ceremonial awakening, Aerin manifests His heart again, and His Gaze turns on Their Chosen once more as he chants!
"FENRIR!" Aerin calls out amidst a rushing sea of Bestial Energy swirling around him, ruffling his messy silver hair and bringing out the glow in his eyes. Cyrus can't help but think of Him while watching his brother. They all bear witness to their God-Eating Wolf awakening through their Chosen's flesh...
"AWAKEN!" Aerin says as Primordial Energy discharges from his eyes...
And the Heavens cower at His Howl...
Fenrir Lives Once Again...
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Through the forest, They run...
Remnants of a legendary race, Their legend undone...
And yet, She stays on the run...
To chart Her Destiny, even if it's a short one...
Ryn runs through the snow, her magic-enhanced legs covering large distances at speeds matching the fastest land animals alive. She's eerily silent and focused while running; fixated on planning for every conceivable scenario she's capable of thinking of. The falling snow, the freezing air, the treacherous terrain, none of it bothered her. She dashes through it all almost as if she's on autopilot while lost in her thoughts; her agility far exceeding human limits. Her destination and goal: find them before they find her and the rest.
She rapidly approaches a large, flowing creep where freezing cold water rushes along; it's too far for a human to jump, and too cold and deep to swim across. Ryn sees it and picks up speed. As she rushes toward the creekside, a flare of magical bluish energy concentrates at her feet and permeates her body: Ryn's vastly augmenting her physical abilities through magic; one of the first applications of her power she taught herself upon her awakening.
Ryn unleashes the magical energy she's adeptly coalesced and gathered when she jumps, a blast of concussive energy propelling her meters into the air over the stream. She's got her arms raised over her as she descends at terminal velocity, her legs bent and ready for impact and a series of magical blue lines showing through her pants across her legs and boots, reinforcing her landing. She hits the deep snow boots first and rolls onto her feet without missing a movement, dashing even faster with another soft shockwave of power left in her wake. She's running faster than a Cheetah now...
"I should be deep enough in the forest..." Ryn thinks, swiftly spinning around a rapidly approaching tree as if it's an afterthought despite her running so fast; it's no surprise she escaped that Lycan. She sidesteps several trenches of deep snow, then jumps toward a large tree across a deep pit before rebounding off the tree toward a rocky ledge barring her path; the elevation is blocking her way. But, that's not a problem for Ryn.
The woman magnetizes her fingers and the rockface upon touching it, easily gripping the frozen, slippery surface despite there being nothing to grab. She scrambles up the ledge and vaults to her feet again, her blue eyes suddenly flaring with magical energy. She's experiencing another vision. Another vision of Him...
Through her eyes, she sees a confusing sight...
She sees a death...
But is it Hers, or His? Her vision ends before she can tell...
"That's not fucking ambiguous at all!" Ryn clicks her tongue, mildly annoyed at her lack of finesse and control over what her eyes show her. Nevertheless, Ryn takes her vision seriously and pauses in the forest to gather her thoughts; she's thinking out loud. "Assuming it's me that dies, I should turn back and go home..." She considers the obvious and safest solution, now resting her chin over a braced arm in deeper thought. Despite the dangerous territory she's in, Ryn seems unbothered by the threat of potential predators. She's already thought of countermeasures to ambushes from the Wildlife...
"However, if He's the one to die: do I kill him?" Ryn's now wondering, her features shifting. A new thought pops into her head, one powerful enough to keep her attention. It's a question predating that ominous symphony of howls that draws Ryn's now shaky attention; she's preparing herself...
"What if I can save us both?" she wonders; an almost asinine and unrealistic scenario...
But, one She is curious about...
"...I'll adapt as I need to, yuh!" Ryn decides with a smirk, then takes off into the night again toward those loud and ferocious howls; She's curious to see them; dangerously so.
The young, blue-eyed Human switches to running through the snow-capped treetops where she's much safer than on the ground. She jumps into the air with ease and plants her boots onto the side of a large, robust, and towering coniferous tree blanketed with snow, that magical energy permeating Ryn's flesh keeps her attached while she bolts up the tree. When she reaches the top, she jumps again and snatches a large branch, swinging off it over a massive gap between the trees toward another, which she vaults atop and pauses. She huffs frost from her throat, those eyes scanning the cold and quiet green and white scenery painting the forest floor far, far down below. The forest is eerily mute as Ryn sits catching her breath; she brushes away snowflakes powdering her messy black hair. Did she lose their trail? She's getting impatient and anxious. It's clear in her words...
"Damn it! Come on, Ryn; you're a better tracker than this..." Ryn sucks her teeth and scolds herself, now clasping her hands together and closing her eyes as if to pray; what's she doing? Ryn's enhancing energy grows denser as she stops limiting herself just for this moment.
"I was trying to keep the usage of this low to save some stamina, but I guess it's no risk, no reward..." Ryn pep-talks herself, shaking her head as if shit happens. A more powerful flare of bluish energy paves the way for newly appearing black ritual markings now covering her exposed flesh like swirling tattoos resembling fire. She opens her eyes again, her pupils now super enchanted visual organs. It takes her less than seven seconds to locate her target; a vague magical trail only seen through Her eyes is shown true.
"That way!" Ryn says, immediately breaking her Transformed State and blinking away that dispersing power in her eyes as well as the markings once painting her flesh. That Transformation costs too much energy to maintain for more than a few seconds without active use. The woman bursts forward in a perfectly horizontal lunge without needing external momentum; she can create that on her own.
The moon's brilliance makes Ryn's shadow flicker like fire against the ground while she runs, the woman briefly noticing it but shaking her head. There's not much she's able to do about that. She hopes it doesn't cause her downfall down the line. Do Lycans draw strength from a Full Moon? The Human hopes she'll get a definitive answer one day...
Ryn stops and pauses atop a sturdy branch the moment she hears that howling again. But, this time, it's too close for comfort. She holds her breath, too nervous to move as those once confident and ambitious eyes watch a bunch of monstrous wolf-beasts bound through the Boreal Forest perpendicular to Ryn's hiding spot, and a fair distance away. The stampede of transformed Lycans running shocks her soul. It's like she's looking at something otherworldly. The massive monsters varied in size, shape, and even color. Ryn's eyes, however, settle on Him at the forefront of the large Pack...
Even as Fenrir, Ryn knows which one that He is...
It all makes sense to her now...
"He's like me..." She whispers aloud in awe...
Ryn's heart fills with a new, different type of ambition; one she never expected to have. She needs to somehow talk to Him. She needs to confirm her suspicions and test her theory about Destiny. She swiftly pursues the beasts after they vanish into the frozen thicket. The moment Ryn takes a step, though, a chilling memory of a conversation she brushed off flashes in her head...
"We are prey to Them, not equals..." Marcus's voice echoes...
... ... ...
"No, I'm not..." Ryn adamantly rejects; She's different...
Ryn takes off again and effortlessly parkours through the treetops with speed and agility rivalling the most graceful wild beasts. She's made up her mind and decided on her plan: she's going to talk to that Lycan; one way, or another. She jumps another clearing with the same ease and athletiscm as those prior, an arm outstretching to grab a large, extended branch until...
DANGER!
Ryn freezes in the air and fucks up, missing her timing and the branch as she's now falling...
Falling... Ryn's Falling...
She's falling to her DEATH!!!
"SHIT!" Ryn suddenly screams in realization she's falling and is rapidly approaching terminal velocity, already mere seconds from splattering on the ground. She suddenly vanishes moments before impact, though, her hand tightly grasping that missed branch for dear life; her teleportation powers are her lifesaver. She scrambles atop the large piece of sturdy wood and lays on it, clutching it for safety. If she hadn't teleported on reflex toward the last thing she saw before falling, she'd have DIED. The young Human looks down at the ground again that's almost a hundred feet below her. She's glad she used the bathroom before embarking on her journey. Still, Ryn can't swallow that lump in her throat regarding that sensation that stunned her. It was like her body froze with terror over something that was nowhere near her. She ponders if it's what she thinks it is; if that feeling came from Their presence...
Ryn quickly calms herself, closing her eyes and keeping focused. She can't turn back now; her actions aren't just for her, but also for all of them. She effortlessly balances on the wood supporting her weight while she's dusting the falling snow off her body, then fluffs her hair, still conceited and vain over her looks. "If I'm going to die, let me look good doing it..." she pauses, then turns and jumps away in pursuit of her targets again...
"And, let me die with no regrets..."
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Meanwhile...
The Pack hounds through the frozen forest at tempest speeds with two at the forefront: two brothers forever tied together by fate. Fenrir carves a path ahead, his savagely monstrous form bathed in the softest, most voluminously thick, silver-white fur painted with markings resembling shackles enchaining his neck and limbs. He runs in a fast quadrupedal gallop like the rest, snarling and barking in pure focus as he leads.
His brother runs alongside him, covered in dark, grey-colored fur tinged with black markings crossing his limbs as bands, and a rhombus, black-colored patch on his forehead. This Lycan's bulk is more pronounced and massive than his King's; he's easily the larger and stronger of the two, with a boxier head, thicker teeth, and longer, more muscular limbs. Yet, this Lycan respectfully keeps distance behind his brother; he's His protector. His Guardian. They keep pace, though, almost as if racing to keep the momentum going for their peers. Their destination is a beautifully dangerous mountain pass beyond the Boreal Forest, directly south of the village where their most dangerous and greatest modern-day prey awaited: Mammoths...
If only they knew, though...
The looming consequences of the secrets a King keeps...
Next Chapter: A Bloody Reunion...