Foreboding Threats...

A few days later in the Lycan village...

Aerin stays home, preparing for what's to come...

The Lycan dips his hands in a bucket of warmed water and then splashes his face. The soothing liquid feels refreshing, almost magical against his skin. A roaring fire burns across the living room near a sleeping Frostbite, and the pleasant aroma of cooking meat and mushrooms fills his home. Aerin glances out the large window near the front door, watching groups of people rushing past his house toward the village's square. He huffs and dries his face with a nearby cloth before loudly yawning.

"Frostbite!" Aerin calmly calls to the Vargr while moving to his clothes, his tall, muscular form dotted with vague scars from the neck down all over. Frostbite immediately lifts its head, its eerie blue-hued eyes emanating the same mystical allure of its master's. After throwing on a black shirt, Aerin walks over, and slumps onto the same fur mat Frostbite rests on. The young man leans against the beast's softly-furred flank, and Frostbite curls its tail over its master, exhaling through its nose while Aerin stares at the wooden ceiling.

"I wish you could talk sometimes," the silver-haired man sighs, ruffling his hair in disappointment. "Staying stuck in the village until the festival would be far more bearable with someone to talk to," he muses, a bored expression across his face while he strokes the Vargr's fluffy tail. Frostbite yawns, flashing its large and sharp, bone-crunching teeth for just a second. Aerin glances over at the yawning monster, reminding himself of how his entire head could fit in the Vargr's mouth. He then turns and snorts, mocking his brother's tone when he speaks.

"Until we have a better grasp of the situation, little brother is to remain in the safety of the village unless chaperoned by a guard patrol, or one of us!" he imitates, clearly displeased. He props his arms behind his head and grunts. "I'm not a child, you know?" he asks Frostbite, and the Vargr huffs. Aerin assumes the beast agrees with him. "No matter what I say, Cyrus treats me like I need protection all of the time. I am more than capable of handling myself; he's the reason I go into the woods so much with you and the sword. It's the only time I feel in total control of my life," he groans, grasping clumps of hair in his hands in frustration before suddenly hopping up. He paces back and forth, the major meeting from a few days ago still weighing on his mind.

"Even when we shared our findings with everyone else in the Inner Circle, he overshadowed me. I don't know what it is about him that draws everyone's attention. I'm always in his shadow whenever we're together; it's annoying," he says, shaking his head while recalling and mimicking random voice lines from people throughout the village in his life. "Aerin, did Cyrus teach you how to fight and hunt? Aerin, has Cyrus saved your life before? Aerin, do you know if Cyrus is leading the Night of a Thousand Hounds?" he scowls, swatting the air with his hand before walking toward the sizzling meat and mushrooms cooking on the wood stove.

"I wish Fenrir chose him, sometimes. At least then, I'd have a quiet and peaceful existence as a nobody. I could be my own person without expectations of greatness or having my actions and decisions compared with my fucking brother every time I--" he yelps in pain; the hot stove burns his fingers. Frostbite tenses at the cry of shock, and Aerin quickly calms it down.

"I'm fine. I got too irritated..." he assures, blowing out the flame before dumping the cooked meat and mushrooms on a nearby waiting plate. The sight of the hot and ready food combines with its alluring aroma and bombards Aerin's nose, and he nearly drools in anticipation; this is his favorite meal. He grabs the plate in one hand while snatching a nearly forgotten slab of bloody and raw meat off the counter, too. Frostbite instantly rises to its feet, mouth opened and watering in anticipation at the meat flying through the air his way. The Vargr snaps it up in seconds, swallowing it whole as Aerin sits by the fireplace again and eats. The first bite of the seasoned steak sends a pleasant chill down his spine; it's been days since he last made this.

"Mmm... needs more salt," Aerin lazily remarks, scarfing down the fried mushrooms in moments, then devouring the steak faster than he intended. The sadness of finishing his food too quickly comes, and Aerin huffs as Frostbite settles beside him, obviously wanting to lick the plate. Aerin hands it over without resistance, then stands again and heads to his room. As he walks, another peculiar and more unsettling conversation replays in his mind. Cyrus's seriously wary and concerned voice playing in his head with the memory.

"Kraven and I will gather some of the strongest Lycans aside from us to reinforce the patrols. Because whatever killed that Werebear is a force we shouldn't take lightly..." Cyrus's words playback in Aerin's head while the latter enters his neatly maintained bedroom and dons his winter cloak, forearm warmers, and sword. He slips the Warwolf Blade across his back and heads for the door, snorting under his breath at the next memory flicking in his mind.

"The human situation can wait. Our top priority is eliminating whatever killed one of our most dangerous competitors..."

Aerin agitatedly opens the front door and then whistles for Frostbite. The Vargr quickly trots after him, the two stepping out into the warm cave and heading toward the village center as well. He pulls his hood over his features and lowers his head before slipping his hands in his pockets, clearly displaying he wants no social interaction from passing Lycans. Nevertheless, he still pays attention to his surroundings. The people walking along the road with him all talked about one thing: the upcoming Night of a Thousand Hounds. Aerin's not surprised; this is the most important event in the entire village for as long as he's remembered.

The man and his Vargr quickly breach the cave entrance with the rest, and the colder, open air is anything but pleasant to them. Aerin feels a distinct whiplash of cold against his face and grunts. Frostbite, however, seems unfazed, and even happier in the colder air. The several hundred-pound creature nudges against Aerin's side, but Aerin declines by patting his head.

"I'm fine walking, buddy," the young man assures with a vague smile at his canine companion. Aerin was known throughout the village as the only person authorized to have a personal Vargr as a pet. The wolfsbane flu epidemic culled the Vargr's numbers, nearly wiping them out from the Boreal Forest. It's his favorite privilege from being Chosen, and the only one he finds joy in abusing. Frostbite barks in understanding, then nuzzles against Aerin's aggressive patting of his head. Their bonding moment was interrupted by an approaching young woman with a petite frame, dark red hair, fair skin, and doe-like brown eyes.

"Excuse me, Aerin?" the woman asks, stopping a respectable distance from the two as the man and his Vargr eye her over. She's decently shorter than Aerin, with a high-pitched voice and a hint of shyness in her expression. "I'm so sorry to interrupt you, but, I have a question!" she hesitantly asks as if she's intimidated by something. Aerin quickly figures out it's likely his status, and then figures out her next request seconds later through watching her eyes. The woman's gaze repeatedly flicks toward an unassuming Frostbite. A slight sneer of amusement etches over Aerin's features as he pulls down his hood.

"Yeah, you can pet him," Aerin preemptively answers and the woman's smile brightens tenfold. She looks at Frostbite next when the Vargr locks onto her, and then the beast looks Aerin's way. Aerin nods in approval. "It's alright. We're all Lycans here, remember?" he reminds. Frostbite vaguely appears to nod, then steps closer to the red-haired woman, who steps back at the monster's large, intimidating figure.

"I've never seen one so close until now. They're huge!" she exclaims while tentatively reaching her hands toward the Vargr's face. The wolf-beast takes further initiative and leans into her touch, allowing her several seconds of gentle contact before pulling away. The woman seems more than satisfied with that. Aerin speaks.

"This one's a little special compared to the rest," he reveals, keeping his voice low. The woman's eyes spark with awe, and she steps closer but still keeps a respectable image of herself. By now, Aerin notices others glancing his and Frostbite's way as they pass by, but they never interfere.

"Oh?" the woman inquires, looking toward the canine, then to Aerin again while trying not to fluster herself. Petting Frostbite wasn't the only reason she mustered the courage to approach. Aerin pats the Vargr's head while nodding.

"He's a piece of me in a sense..." he cryptically answers, flicking his gaze her way again. It's rare for someone to approach him without warning like this; he's enjoying the interaction. "He's also the reason I'm allowed to leave the village without losing Fenrir's Gaze. Frostbite is a part of me, but he counts as a separate ally, too," he explains. The woman's expression shifts to deep thinking. This happens for several seconds as she connects the dots, and her eyes widen with excitement again.

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"Whoa... so you can manifest your Lycan powers outside of your body like this!?" she asks, shocking Aerin; he didn't expect her to figure it out that fast. She steps closer, arms close to her person and hands clenched with excitement and curiosity as she bombards him with more questions. "Is the Vargr all of your power manifested outside of you, or is it a born and bred one specifically designed to harness your strength as a separate vessel? Do you need to absorb him to fully transform? Do y--" she's cut off by the deep baritone of Kraven's voice as the man approaches from her blind spot.

"Aerin!" the large and muscular man calls out from the side of the road, gesturing. "I apologize for interrupting your conversation, but you're needed!" he yells over the bustling chatter of passersby, and all turn eyes to Aerin, who sighs. Of course, the moment he finds someone interested in him and his dog beyond his reputation, the Inner Circle again drags him away. Aerin's features vaguely twist with agitation as he pulls his hood over again, and speaks to the woman.

"Apologies, I have to go," he softly says, and the red-haired woman quietly nods before stepping back without a word. She respectfully watches Aerin walk toward Kraven, and she nearly turns away herself until the man's voice calls out to her. "Hey, what's your name?" Aerin asks, and the woman's eyes widen in disbelief and shock; a member of the Inner Circle wants to know her name!? Her skin nearly flushes with embarrassment, but she keeps her cool as she brushes away red bangs from her brow.

"Roxy!" she says with a big smile, and Aerin nods at her.

"Nice to meet you, Roxy. Feel free to say hello whenever you see me. Catch you later," he gives a two-fingered wave and heads toward Kraven, his Vargr in tow. Roxy stands in the street, stunned by Aerin's words. He was fine with her approaching him in the future!? A hurricane of thoughts flush through her mind. Did she become friends with a member of the Inner Circle!? She fights squealing like a child, quickly rushing into the passing crowds of people while hiding her blushing face. She couldn't wait to tell all of her friends how a bold decision turned out to be so fruitful. Meanwhile, Aerin approaches the much larger Kraven with a more nuanced, indifferent, but still respectful tone.

"You could've waited until we were finished talking and then called for me ..." he says and makes no effort to his irritation while walking along with Kraven. Kraven's amber-hued eyes flick Aerin's way as they walk, and his rough and rugged features twist into a look of amusement.

"You found that Lycan cute, didn't you?" he snickers, his laughter still deep and reverberating through the cold air. Aerin side-eyes Kraven then exhales.

"Why am I needed?" he changes the topic as those ghostly blue eyes look around the village. Most people are heading in the same direction as he is; all of them rushing to the village square where a makeshift stage stands, along with the other members of the Inner Circle. Aerin feels a churning sensation in his chest as Kraven answers him.

"Cyrus initially planned to lead the rally before the festival hunt tonight, but after some consideration, he's decided that you should lead the rally and the hunt. After all, you're Fenrir's Chosen. It's only natural that you take the lead," he explains as they get closer and closer to the stage. People quickly notice them, and part like the seas as Aerin especially approaches the main path toward the stage. Cyrus is already in the middle of gathering everyone but pauses when his brother's visage catches his eye. The black-haired Lycan quickly gestures at his sibling, diverting the remaining villager's full attention to the man of the hour while Frostbite settles near the back of the stage.

"As promised! This winter's Night of a Thousand Hounds will be led not by me..." he pauses as his steel-hued eyes fixate on his brother now walking up the stairs to him. Cyrus quickly beckons Aerin closer, then has him facing the crowd. The man fills every word out of his mouth with vigor, motivation, and excitement.

"But, by my little brother! Fenrir's Chosen! The one destined to bring our race back to GLORY with me at his side!" he screams, frost flowing like a dragon's breath from his mouth. The crowded group of Lycans circling the stage erupt in cheer, clapping and yelling at the top of their lungs as all members of the Inner Circle gather behind Aerin and Cyrus. Aerin stays silent, fighting the creeping chill of anxiety sneaking up his spine. He maintains a straightforward face, though.

Cyrus steps back as Ymir, the current Matriarch and defacto overseer of the villagers steps forth and places her hand on Aerin's left shoulder. She comes into view from the corner of his eyes and stays there while addressing the audience surrounding them in a more nuanced, wise, and commanding tone than Cyrus. All goes quiet when she speaks.

"Our Wolf-God, Fenrir has shown us that he has not abandoned us to extinction..." she says, keeping those golden eyes on the audience but her hand on Aerin's shoulder. The morning sun brightens by the second. "For He has fought for our place in all of creation against the Trinity, and thus gifts us another chance at regaining our place as the most powerful race on Apocryphal. His ferocious strength and savagery earned us one of the Three Eyes of Fate..." she pauses again, looking Aerin's way as the young man fights closing his eyes and looking down. He hates this...

"Aerin is blessed with such power, and it is through Their unity that we have a path toward salvation. For Fenrir's Chosen cannot only peer into the past of his enemies and learn their darkest secrets and fears but his hindsight is also linked to our most famous and powerful ancestor: Lycian, who savagely dominated and nearly wiped Them from existence until his tragic betrayal. Aerin will learn from his greatest ancestor's mistakes, and drive us into power again. For we only require the strength of our own to be powerful!” She pauses, allowing her children’s applause.

"Don't use my name for this..." he thinks...

"Tonight, Aerin begins his transition into leadership! For I will be stepping down once the festival hunt is concluded," Ymir's ball drops, drawing gasping shocks from the audience and Aerin's wide-eyed disbelief. He pulls away from Ymir's resting grasp, unable to stop himself from lashing out in anger.

"What!?" the silver-haired Lycan asks, his voice riled and agitated. "None of you told me any of this!?" he viciously points a finger Cyrus's way without looking; those betrayed blue eyes glowing with emotion. "First, he suddenly tells me that I'm leading the rally and then you suddenly tell everyone that you're retiring after this!? Are you all fucking for real!?" he snarls. The gasping crowd falls utterly quiet; this was a first. Cyrus quickly snatches Aerin's outstretched arm in the gentlest way possible as he speaks.

"Little brother, now isn't the ti--" Cyrus tries saying, but Aerin swats his arm away and faces his larger, older brother with the same ferocity.

"My fucking name is Aerin!" he snaps. "I am not just a god damned child, nor a fucking weapon that you all can use and abuse whenever you fucking want!" he says, and Frostbite jumps to its feet, barking in distress until Kraven and Anesthesia tend to him. Kraven quickly subdues the riled Vargr once they realize its aggressiveness is linked to Aerin's emotions. Cyrus's face twists into slight shock, and then grows stern; Aerin's getting out of hand.

"Aerin!" Cyrus says, almost as if threatening his younger brother to watch his words. Ymir remains quiet like the rest; she steps back and lets the best man for the job tame his family. Aerin sucks his teeth at Cyrus, his expression filled with bottled-up frustration.

"You know what, Cyrus?" Aerin scoffs, so done with everything he can't help but laugh. "I've tried since I was little to live up to the expectations of you and the rest, but sometimes? I wish that I didn't have this power. Hell, sometimes, I wish I wasn't even a Lycan. You all do nothing but breathe down my neck, or decide what I'll do without ever asking me what I want. If you all want this power so badly to save our species from extinction then go pray to Fenrir and hope you wake up tomorrow with these eyes and his soul and I don't," he scowls, his words striking Cyrus in deeper ways than the latter expected. Aerin's not finished, though...

"But, until then? I'm finally exercising my greatest right as His chosen and declaring my refusal to lead tonight or rally. I'll hunt with you all, and help everyone, but from here on? I'll do it when I feel like it. I quit the Inner Circle," he states in front of everyone, then whistles for Frostbite. The Vargr is now thrashing and flailing under Kraven's strength; the massive man barely maintaining control without transforming. Aerin glances Kraven's way with a glare. "Release my fucking Vargr," he orders, and a sudden, powerful surge of obedience implants itself into Kraven. He releases the Vargr on command, and the wolf-beast leaves with Aerin, the two headed toward the forest.

"AERIN!" Cyrus screams at his brother, but Aerin keeps walking away without looking back. Cyrus clenches his fists, genuinely angry at his brother's temper tantrum, and starts pursuing him. Ymir, however, halts Cyrus by raising her hand and shaking her head.

"Fenrir's Chosen has expressed his orders and course of action. We are not allowed to subject him to the tenants that we follow. He's free to go where he pleases and do as he wants so long as it does not infringe on the safety of us all..." she reminds, and Cyrus snaps at her.

"His refusal to accept his place and destiny is hurting us, Ymir!" the man protests, looking at Anesthesia in hopes she backs him up. Anesthesia, unfortunately, shakes her head at his plea for help. She speaks in a calmer, gentler tone than Ymir's cold, calculated words.

"Our goal is to guide and protect the Chosen, not control them. If Aerin is serious and furious at our actions, then perhaps it's time we do some introspection. You should be most aware that it is rare for Aerin to lash out, especially at a time like this. His concerns and fears are most likely valid. He is more than capable of protecting himself, and he won't abandon us. So, let the young man blow some steam and settle his nerves..." she suggests, but Cyrus isn't sold.

"His childish temper tantrum has ruined our rally, Anesthesia!" he steps toward her with rising anger in his voice, but it isn't aimed at her, or anyone else around. In some aspects, it wasn't even aimed at the man he was mad at. "Fenris will reprimand us for this disruption of the festival. Our hunt will not be fruitful, and we will not gain this season's strength for what's to potentially come!" he hints, making his point while keeping their earlier conversations regarding his and Aerin's discovery a secret. Ymir suddenly ends it all, her voice commanding and final.

"You are not Fenrir's Chosen, Cyrus..." she curtly reminds him; the first time she's ever done this. The spectating audience remains silent as death, and Cyrus slowly turns his gaze toward Ymir. The Matriarch will never forget the expression Cyrus flashed her in that briefest moment before he stormed away. She watches him head in the opposite direction of Aerin, then shakes her head as she takes control of the rally. As Cyrus anticipated, any excitement and happiness were gone, and Ymir's efforts to raise spirits once more fell in vain.

The village could only hope this shocking turn of events never comes to ruin them...

Oh, how much they hoped...

Next Chapter: The Fated Encounter...