Gideon woke with a start, his body heavy and his mind sluggish, as if the weight of last night’s whiskey was still pulling him down into the sheets. The dull throb behind his eyes matched the slow rhythm of his pulse, his dry and embittered tongue reminders of how much he had drunk, though he couldn’t quite remember he had gotten home. He sat up slowly, the ache in his muscles more than just the usual soreness from his daily routine—it was deeper, older, the kind of pain that came from something broken inside. The apartment was eerily silent, save for the low hum of modern appliances in the kitchen and the faint crackle of a warded window keeping the enchanted chill of the forest at bay. Wolfpack had picked this place for its serenity, for the promise of peace that Eichenwald, nestled deep in the Black Forest, had offered them.
But now, in the stillness of the morning, it felt hollow. Every room seemed too big, too empty, too full of things that weren’t supposed to be his alone. He stood and ran a hand over his face, feeling the rough stubble on his jaw, the exhaustion clinging to his skin like a second layer. The mirror in the bathroom caught his eye—he hardly recognized the man staring back at him. His dark brown hair was disheveled, and his pale green eyes, bloodshot and shadowed, seemed haunted by too many sleepless nights. There was a time when he would’ve cared enough to shave, enough to look less like a ghost, but that time had long passed. Truth be told it has only been a month since Wolfpack had been buried and Gideon himself discharged from the Bundeswehr.
His commanding officer, Oberst Matthias Volkner , had fled to God knows where after the failed attempt to wipe out Wolfpack, an unsanctioned mission in the border of Belarus that had cost him everything. Gideon should have been hunting The Colonel down, should have been planning revenge, but the grief weighed him down like a stone tied to his chest. He had managed to recover their bodies. Even after the Bundeswehr had disavowed the mission, his connections within the KSK had allowed him to pull strings, to retrieve what was left of his team. He’d given them proper burials here in Eichenwald, the place they had all planned to call home after their final mission. But the graves, neatly lined in the town's cemetery, were no comfort to him. They only reminded him of the promise they had all made to each other—one they would never fulfill.
Every day, he was trapped in the same routine, the same hollow actions, going through the motions of a life he no longer recognized.
The enchanted herb planter by the window flickered with faint green light, the runes Lira had etched into it still glowing softly even though the plants inside were wilting. He hadn’t watered them in days—maybe weeks—but somehow, the magic held on, just as he did, by a thread. It was meant to be her gift to them, something to nurture, something that would bring a bit of the wild magic she loved into their lives. Now it was just another reminder of what was gone. He stared at them for a moment, barely able to bring himself to water them. Lira had shown him how to take care of them, how to let the magic nurture the plants, but without her, the act felt empty. He absentmindedly filled the bird-feeder outside of the window with assorted seeds for the local Eurasian blue tits to eat. Right on cue, a pair of them darted to the bird feeder, their vivid blue and yellow feathers catching the morning light as they perched gracefully, pecking at the seeds Gideon had scattered. It reminded him of Lira—small yet full of life, flitting between moments with a quiet grace. She had always loved these birds, their cheerful chirps a reflection of the harmony she brought to the world around her. Watching it now, he could almost feel her presence, the soft hum of her magic still lingering in the air, as though she was still tending to the life she had left behind.
Leaving the window behind, he wandered into the kitchen. Its sleek, modern stainless steel appliances looked out of place in this old town, where everything else still held onto a sense of timelessness. They had wanted the best of both worlds—technology and magic, the comforts of modern life with the old world charm of Eichenwald—but now, it felt like he was caught between two lives, neither of them his anymore. The coffee maker whirred softly as he leaned against the counter, his eyes drifting toward the small pile of things on the table—his battered dog tags, still glinting in the morning light, and an old map of the town that they had once used to plan out the perfect life here. The tags were cold in his hand, a weight that reminded him of the past he couldn’t escape, the lives he couldn’t save.
Gideon pulled open the black double-door fridge out of habit more than hunger. It was mostly empty, a box of milk and a carton of eggs, the bare minimum he could manage in his mental state. He should eat, but food hadn’t tasted the same since the mission. Still, he went through the motions, pulling out a few ingredients to make bread the way Elara had taught him. He remembered her quiet laugh as she had patiently shown him how to knead the dough, her long fingers moving gracefully while his had fumbled through the steps. Now, as he tried again, the dough didn’t rise properly, and the bread came out dense and misshapen compared to the airy yet firm texture when Elara had made it. He could almost hear Elara’s voice in his head, her soft laugh teasing him for his impatience. He set the failed loaf on the counter, staring at it as though it could somehow bring her back.
Gideon moved through the rest of his routine with the same sense of detachment. The hand-to-hand drills he did with Kaz felt mechanical, each punch or kick thrown into the empty air or against the worn punching bag, were shadows of what they used to be. He had enjoyed martial arts since his childhood, particularly Taekwondo, Judo, and Kyokushin Karate but nothing was ever as exhilarating after everything he went through with Kaz . The vampire's superhuman battle prowess constantly offered immense challenge for him to train harder so he could hit and be hit harder . But no extra training or conditioning from Kaz could have prepared him for blows this painful. There was no banter, no Kaz there to push him, to call out his mistakes with that ever-present smirk. His body went through the motions, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in the memories of that final mission, of the day they had all died.
In the small gym, he lifted weights, following the routines that Thorneck had set for him, but each rep felt heavier than it should have. He wasn’t sure if it was the weight of the iron or the weight of the guilt that slowed him down. Thorneck had always been there to spot him, to push him through the hardest sets, all while discussing morality and ethics with him. But now the silence in the room was deafening. After the last rep, he dropped the bar, his breath coming in shallow gasps, but it didn’t feel like an accomplishment. Nothing did without them.
Even gaming felt pointless now. Mira had always been the one to pull him into her world, dragging him into endless matches of Helldivers 2, laughing hysterically when Eagle airstrikes or 500 kilogram bombs obliterated bugs and clankers (and often times also their entire squad) alike, delving into the long forgotten dungeons of Skyrim and finding a master-level treasure chest with an intact bread in it with 3 gold coins after wasting so many lockpicks on it, collecting Gwent cards across The Continent, or simply driving through the streets of Night City and pretending that they are Ryan Gosling's K from Blade Runner 2049. He hadn’t touched their PCs since her death. What was the point? There was no one there to share the victories, no Mira to switch players to every 30 minutes when playing the single players. They were just another reminder that she was gone.
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Gideon wandered to a nearby window and saw Eichenwald’s enchanted trees swaying gently in the breeze, their leaves glimmering with a faint blue hue in the early morning light. The town itself was still, peaceful, the kind of place where people—both men and Kithborn—could find refuge from the outside world. He found some comfort in the idea that, here, it didn’t matter if you were human or otherwise. The lines between species blurred in the quiet streets, where differences were simply another part of the fabric of life.
It had been their dream to live here, to escape the violence and the chaos that had defined so much of their lives. But now, as he stared out at the town, all he could feel was the emptiness. The silence that had once promised peace now mocked him. The coffee was cold by the time he returned to the window, staring out at the forest beyond the town. This apartment, this town—they were supposed to be his escape, their escape, a place where they could live out their days in peace. But now, it was just another prison, a reminder of everything he had lost. Eichenwald’s charm, its blend of magic and modernity, couldn’t fill the void that had settled in his chest. He was alone in a place meant for all of them, surrounded by memories that refused to fade, by dreams that had died along with his team. No baking, no amount of drills, no workout routine, no game, no enchanted plants nor birds could bring them back. And so, he remained, stuck between the life they had envisioned and the reality of what had become of it.
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The weight of the day pressed heavily on Gideon as dusk settled over Eichenwald, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets. He hadn’t planned on leaving the apartment, but something about the stillness had become suffocating. His mind felt like it was trapped in an endless loop—memories of his team, the last mission, their empty graves. The silence inside his apartment was too much, so without thinking, he pulled on his green bomber jacket, laced his brown hiking boots, and stepped outside.
The air was cool, refreshing in a way that made him pause for a moment on the doorstep. He glanced down the quiet street, the enchanted streetlights flickering to life, their warm glow mixing with the last remnants of sunlight that painted the sky in deep shades of purple and gold. He hadn’t been out like this in days—not for anything other than necessity—but tonight, the routine felt hollow, and the stillness gnawed at him.
As he made his way down the street, his footsteps echoed in the quiet evening, blending with the faint hum of magic and electricity that powered the town. He passed by the bar where he had spent most of last night, the memory hazy but still fresh enough to make him stop. He pushed the door open, the faint smell of wood smoke and spilled beer hitting him as he entered. The bartender gave him a nod—an older man with graying hair, by the name of Kurt Braumeister, familiar enough to remember Gideon’s face but never close enough to ask questions.
“ Dachte schon, Sie würden zurückkommen, ” Kurt said, wiping down the counter. He had expected Gideon’s return, given how abruptly he had left last night. " Sie sind gestern Abend schnell gegangen. Haben nicht einmal Ihre Rechnung überprüft. " It was true—Gideon hadn’t even checked his tab, leaving in such a rush.
Gideon nodded and slid a few bills across the counter, enough to cover the whiskey he had drowned himself in the night before. " Danke, " he said quietly, his baritone voice rough. It had been a long time since he’d thanked anyone for anything.
Kurt raised an eyebrow but didn’t push the conversation any further. He took the money, gave Gideon another nod, and moved on to the next customer. There was something comforting about the routine—about the way the world kept turning, even if his own life felt stuck. With a quick glance around, he left the bar and continued down the street.
The houses along the way glowed warmly from within, their windows lit with soft, golden light. In one of the gardens, he spotted his neighbor, Mrs. Schneider, a half-Dryad woman who lived alone in a house covered with ivy. She waved as she saw him pass, her hand trembling slightly with age, but her smile was kind, familiar.
“ Sie haben sich zurückgezogen, Herr Roth ,” she called out, her voice gentle but with a touch of concern. She hadn’t seen much of him lately—his quiet absence had become notable. " Sie sollten mal wieder zum Tee vorbeikommen. Ich habe die Kräutermischung gemacht, die Sie früher gemocht haben. " She had even prepared that herbal blend he used to enjoy, back when he would stop by now and then for tea.
Victor Roth—a name he had crafted months ago, when he and Wolfpack had planned to leave their old lives behind. They got themselves new IDs, passports, and other appropriate documents for their retirement so nothing could be traced back to who they really were. It felt strange hearing it aloud.
Gideon offered her a small, tight-lipped smile. " Ich werde versuchen, vorbeizuschauen, " he responded. He said he’d try to stop by, though they both knew it was unlikely. But still, her kindness touched him, tugging at something deep inside that had been dormant for weeks.
Mrs. Schneider nodded, satisfied enough with the answer, and returned to tending her plants, humming softly as she went.
As he continued walking, the town began to feel more alive than it had in weeks. The enchanted trees at the edge of town swayed gently in the breeze, their glowing leaves shifting between hues of blue and green as the light faded. He paused at the treeline, the familiar hum of their magic vibrating in the air. It was something that had always calmed him, the connection between nature and the arcane. It reminded him of Lira’s magic—gentle, but powerful in its subtlety.
From somewhere deep in the woods, he heard the distant cry of a bird—a sound that had become so familiar to him during his time in Eichenwald. The pair of Eurasian blue tits from earlier flitted from tree to tree, its vibrant blue feathers catching the last glimmers of light. He watched as they landed on a nearby tree and settled in their nest. It was a small thing, insignificant in the grand scheme of his life, but for a moment, it was enough to distract him from the heaviness in his chest.
The streets were nearly empty now, the shops closing, families settling into their homes for the night. Gideon took a deep breath, the cool night air filling his lungs. For the first time in days, the suffocating weight seemed to began lifting off, even if just a little.
He found himself standing at the edge of the forest, staring into the shadows cast by the enchanted trees. The world felt quieter here, as if the town was holding its breath. The silence wasn’t as oppressive as before—it was a bit different now. A bit calmer. Like the night was offering him a brief reprieve from the chaos that had consumed him. But even in the quiet, the memories of Wolfpack still lingered. He could almost hear their voices, the laughter they used to share, the plans they had made for this place. This town was supposed to be their sanctuary, but now it was just his. And it felt empty without them.
Gideon lingered at the tree line a little longer, his eyes tracing the outline of the enchanted trees as they swayed in the breeze. The magic in the air was faint but familiar, a reminder that this place was still alive, still moving forward even if he wasn’t. As night fully settled in, he turned back toward the apartment, his footsteps slow, but for the first time in weeks, they didn’t feel too heavy.