Chapter 1

Several months had passed since that fateful night when Rayen's world had shattered into a thousand pieces. He still carried the heavy burden of witnessing his father's life end in an instant, the gunshot echoing in his mind like a never-ending nightmare. In the wake of the tragedy, he had moved in with his uncle, Harveth, who had welcomed him with open arms and a promise to help him heal.

Under Harveth's guidance, Rayen began to rebuild his life. His uncle, a rugged blacksmith with a heart of gold, taught him the art of crafting and the trade of metalwork. Rayen quickly discovered a knack for it, pouring his emotions into the red-hot steel as he hammered and molded it into intricate shapes. It provided a therapeutic escape from the haunting memories of that dreadful night.

However, it wasn't just blacksmithing that Harveth imparted to his young nephew. Rayen had inherited his father's love for the wild, and Harveth, recognizing the boy's potential, decided to teach him the skills of a hunter. He taught Rayen how to set traps, track animals, and survive in the unforgiving wilderness of the Eastern Highlands.

Rayen's education in trapping small game became a daily ritual. With each step deeper into the woods, he felt a connection to his father, as if he were keeping a part of him alive through their shared knowledge and traditions. The traps were his father's legacy, and Rayen was determined to master them.

One crisp morning, as the sun bathed the forest in a golden glow, Rayen set out on his usual trapping expedition. The air was filled with the earthy scent of pine, and the distant call of birds greeted him as he ventured further into the woods. He carried his trusty satchel filled with homemade traps, each one meticulously crafted under his uncle's guidance.

The traps had names, each one designed for a specific purpose. There was the Whispering Snare, a silent contraption for nimble creatures like rabbits. Then there was the Sturdy Jaw, a powerful steel-toothed trap capable of securing larger prey. Rayen knew them all intimately, and he handled them with the care and respect they deserved.

As the day progressed, Rayen set his traps in strategic locations, hoping for a successful catch. He moved quietly, his senses heightened by his surroundings. Every rustling leaf, every distant snap of a twig, he cataloged in his mind, always vigilant for signs of danger.

Hours passed, and Rayen's satchel grew heavier with the weight of his bounty. He had managed to catch several rabbits and a plump squirrel, evidence of his growing expertise in the craft. Content with his haul, he began the journey back home.

However, fate had other plans for him that day. As Rayen followed the winding trail back through the forest, he noticed a sudden shift in the atmosphere. The air grew colder, and the usual sounds of the woods were replaced by an eerie silence. An unsettling feeling gnawed at him, and he instinctively reached for the pair of rings that hung around his neck—his parents' wedding bands, a tradition that all orphans in the Eastern Mountains followed.

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Rayen quickened his pace, his heart pounding in his chest. He had heard stories of the Ice Wolves that roamed the Eastern Highlands, mythical creatures known for their eerie white fur and chilling presence. They were rarely seen, and even the most experienced hunters regarded them with a mix of awe and dread.

As the forest canopy above him thickened, obscuring the sunlight, Rayen sensed movement in the shadows. He froze, his breath catching in his throat. Emerging from the trees, a massive Ice Wolf, its fur shimmering like freshly fallen snow, appeared before him. Its pale blue eyes bore into his soul, and its fangs glistened with an otherworldly cold.

Fear coursed through Rayen's veins, but he knew that panic would be his downfall. He did not have the tools to survive this encounter, and he struggled to come up with any idea he could even just survive, let alone remain uninjured. His hands trembled as he reached for the leather pouch on his belt, where two knives lay—a gift from his father, a final lesson in survival.

The first knife, a simple dagger with an intricate pattern on the hilt. But Rayen knew that the knife's ability to keep him alive was limited, and he needed a way to end this confrontation. With trembling fingers, he reached for the second knife—a rather jagged and rough thing, his first 'passable' blade he'd made according to his Uncle. He focused all his energy, all his fear, and all his determination into his stance.

The Ice Wolf charged then, obviously smelling his fear. The creature swiped its claws across the front of Rayen's torso, carving up the basic leather cuirass he wore and drawing blood before sailing into a nearby tree. The creature howled in excitement at the sight of its blood, its fur crackling with energy as it prepared to put an end to him. It slowly padded toward Rayen, exalted at a successful hunt. Rayen shakily held his hand outward as if to try to ward away the beast, silently begging for the chance to live. And that's when another permanent change to Rayen's life happened.

The back of his right hand began to glow softly brown. The Wolf spotted this change and decided to end its prey now. It dived at Rayen, attempting to bite out his throat when it stopped just inches away, and then fell to the ground, lifeless. Rayen stood there, his chest heaving, his heart still racing, and the light on his hand slowly fading away.

He had survived the encounter with the legendary Ice Wolf, but the experience left him shaken and humbled. Sheer dumb luck had allowed him to survive this encounter, and he knew he would have to learn more about what happened. He knew about Runes; everyone was born with two of them. But they were only awakened when one enrolled at the Academy after the age of thirteen.

Rayen carefully approached the fallen Ice Wolf; its body seemed unable to lay flat, despite the obvious lack of life in the creature's eyes. His fingers trembled as he touched its ethereal fur. He had not only defeated one of the many creatures born with a Rune that terrorized the mountains, but also acquired a somewhat valuable pelt. It would serve as a powerful reminder of this day and a testament to his journey toward becoming the hunter he aspired to be.

The problem lay in how the Wolf had died. After a single tired effort to roll the beast on its side, a growing pool of blood was soaking the ground around the creature. He would have to skin and prep the body as it lay. Rayen skinned it with relative ease except for his inability to reach the underside. It was after getting most of its edible meat that he found the source of the creature's demise: over a dozen spikes made of compressed dirt and stone were impaling the body, each about two feet long but only a couple of inches at its base while slowly tapering to a sharp point.

With a pounding heart, bags of meat, and the pelt draped over his shoulder, Rayen resumed his journey home. He knew that his encounter with the Ice Wolf had changed him, deepening his connection to his potential runes, and reinforcing the importance of his father's legacy.

Rayen had faced an all-too-common Ice Wolf and emerged as the survivor.