Snegurochka stood alone on the frozen lake, her breath visible as delicate puffs against the frigid air. Her mind turned to the ancient legend of Volk, a story her grandfather had told her long ago—a story she wished had remained only a tale.

Volk had not been born; she had been made. Ages ago, when the world was young, Ralntahvix, the Hybrid Deity of Mammals and Predation, and Grand Harmony, the Hybrid Deity of Fiends and Sorcery, forged a treaty between their domains. To seal their truce, they manifested Volk—a lycan imbued with fiendish power, feral cunning, and an unbreakable connection to the wolves of the world. Volk became their treaty creature, a physical embodiment of their accord.

At first, Volk’s purpose was noble: she was meant to maintain balance between the predatory and the mystical, ensuring no side tipped the cosmic scales. But power, even power bestowed, can corrupt. Over centuries, Volk began to crave more—more strength, more dominion, and more recognition as a deity in her own right. Her alliance with the wolves of the wild turned from stewardship to conquest.

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When Volk declared herself sovereign of the forests and mountains, she began to terrorize the regions under her claimed dominions: Russia and Siberia. The humans who lived there told stories of her monstrous form: iron-clawed, mist-shrouded, and shadow-bound. As her strength grew, so did her ambitions, until even deities began to take note of her actions.

Snegurochka clenched her fists as she remembered the way Volk’s shadow loomed over her lands, over the people she swore to protect. Though her father had warned her not to interfere directly, Snegurochka could not sit idly by. She had fought Volk’s wolves before, pushing back their incursions into Siberia. But Volk herself—Snegurochka knew she would need help to face her.