Snowflakes swirled in the wind’s embrace, blanketing the world in shimmering frost. Above, the night sky stretched like a deep velvet tapestry, cradling the delicate glow of the moon and savoring its quiet brilliance. Cold gusts swept through the mountain passes, their whispers threading through cracks and crevices, carrying the scent of pine and frozen earth.

Atop distant peaks, small clusters of lights flickered like fireflies, hinting at life amidst the desolation. Nestled in the embrace of the mountains, a village stood aglow, its warmth defying the cold. Huts, larger homes, and stables stood resilient against the wind’s restless touch, while the occasional figure of a guard patrolled the village’s border. The moonlight bathed the settlement in a pale silver hue as the clouds drifted, revealing glimpses of its dim radiance.

Inside a desolate cell, a slender beam of light slipped through a crack in the roof, casting its faint glow upon cold stone walls. The lingering aroma of petrichor whispered of rain long past. The light fell upon a lone figure.

Her pale skin drank in the moonlight, its silvery gleam accentuating her ethereal beauty. A black robe clung tightly to her form, merging seamlessly with the shadows pooling around her. Chains etched with faintly glowing runes bound her wrists, pulsing in slow rhythm with her heartbeat.

Dark hair tumbled forward, framing angular features and obscuring part of her face. Yet her striking crimson eyes pierced through the veil—a glow reminiscent of rubies ignited with eerie fire.

Beside her sat a man, his bulky frame covered in gray scales. Though he resembled a human, his features were distinctly foreign: a protruding jaw, slanting green eyes, dreadlocks cascading down his back, flat nostrils, and curving ears that hinted at his strength. Chains identical to hers bound his wrists, glinting faintly in the moonlight.

They sat in silence, their thoughts concealed behind unreadable expressions. The petrichor lingered in the air as shifting clouds occasionally obscured the faint moonlight filtering through cracks above.

Beyond their prison, the village thrived in celebration. Laughter and chatter wove through a lively market where merchants called out to passersby. Stalls brimmed with exotic wares—some showcasing hides from tendril horses, others displaying butterfly horns. Scents of sizzling meat, sweet confections, and aged spices mingled in the crisp air. Haggling filled the space, as did the delighted squeals of children darting between stalls, clutching sweets spun from honey spider silk.

From the third floor of a grand estate, the medicine hall elder stood watching. The orange glow of festive lanterns bathed his face in warmth as the joyous sounds of celebration filled his ears. A man in his forties, his beard bore streaks of gray-white, marking the passage of time. His hands gripped the balcony railing as he surveyed the cheerful crowd below.

Behind him, a servant moved with quiet efficiency, arranging books and trinkets within the study. The room reflected Valerian’s curious nature—shelves lined with artifacts collected from distant lands, each holding a story of its own. He exhaled, releasing his grip on the railing, and stepped inside, closing the balcony doors behind him.

“My lord,” the servant began, his voice measured and respectful. “Today’s purchase was exceptional.”

Valerian nodded. “Indeed. I was skeptical of the merchant’s claims at first, but the trade was worth it.”

The servant hesitated, conflict flickering across his youthful features. “I must admit, I am not sure how to feel about giving away the core of an Earthen Wolf. It seemed excessive. We have other materials in abundance that could have sufficed.”

A low chuckle rumbled in Valerian’s chest. “Ah, don’t trouble yourself. The merchant agreed because I offered him something rare. That’s how trade works—you always aim to maximize your gains.”

The servant bowed his head, understanding the dismissal. “Shall I prepare anything for your return, my lord?”

A flicker of warmth softened Valerian’s features. “Just a cup of wine will suffice. Oh, and don’t forget to brush Lucy.”

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A small smile broke the servant’s formal demeanor. “Of course, my lord. I’ll see to it immediately.”

As Valerian withdrew, a shadow of envy crossed Caspian’s face. A half-dragon and a vampire? Some people have all the luck. Gods, when will I ever catch a break? he grumbled inwardly. Buying two unique slaves—he really is living the easy life, sipping wine and doing nothing around the estate.

He sighed. Right. And now I have to brush that damn cat.

On his way to the elders’ chamber, Valerian passed through the market, acknowledging greetings with a warm smile. Merchants dipped their heads in respect, their voices gaining an eager edge as he walked by. A group of children hushed, their eyes widening as they whispered among themselves. His presence carried an air of quiet authority, admiration gleaming in their eyes.

Valerian’s gaze drifted over the stalls with idle interest. He paid little attention to delicacies, occasionally sparing a glance at cores or fossils, yet none held his focus for long. His pace remained steady, and as he walked, the festival’s lively crowd thinned. Soon, only guards stood watch as he approached the central plaza.

During the day, the plaza bustled with activity, serving as the heart of the clan. But tonight, the festival had drawn the people elsewhere, leaving the vast square eerily still. His destination lay beyond—the main clan hall, where affairs of leadership were conducted. Two flags flanked its grand entrance, emblazoned with the clan’s sigil: a wolf sinking its fangs into a blade.

Valerian glanced at the emblem before stepping forward. The guards at the doors bowed in greeting, opening the heavy wooden gates for him. Inside, two maids awaited. He handed his coat to one and instructed the other to bring him wine before removing his footwear and proceeding toward the debate parlor.

The parlor was a solemn place, its thick stone walls designed to safeguard the discussions held within. Rows of seats lined the chamber in careful order, awaiting the clan elders who gathered here to deliberate on matters of importance.

At the room’s center stood Lucian, the clan leader. He gazed upon the clan’s emblem, lost in thought. Valerian approached and bowed slightly.

“Greetings, my lord.”

Lucian turned, offering a small nod. “Valerian, greetings. How are you?”

“I am well, my lord. And your health?”

Lucian exhaled. “Good, good. You’re here early. Did you not attend the festival?”

“I did, sire,” Valerian replied. “It was a grand event, but there was little to hold my interest. So, I arrived ahead of time.”

“I see… Well, your presence is welcome.”

Valerian studied him for a moment. “Pardon me, my lord, but you seem troubled.”

Lucian let out a quiet hum. “That is true… Tell me, Valerian, what do you see in this symbol?” He gestured to the wolf biting the sword.

Valerian’s gaze lingered on the emblem. “I see myself, my lord.”

Lucian let out a small chuckle. “That’s the answer we teach children. But tell me—what do you truly see?”

Valerian met his gaze. “Myself, sire. I am the clan, and the clan is me.”

Lucian studied him for a moment before huffing a laugh. “Hah. You remind me of my younger days.” His expression grew distant. “When I was a child, my father told me the origins of this symbol. A wolf biting a sword—it is up to the interpreter to see its meaning. In life, we are the sword that strikes, yet we are also the wolf that fights to survive. Predator and prey—both exist within us.”

Valerian gave a small nod. “Your father was a fierce warrior, my lord. My mother often spoke of his battles—how he single-handedly defended the village against a beast tide, holding his ground alone.”

Lucian’s lips curved faintly, though a wistfulness clung to his features. “Yes… his feats were admirable.” He exhaled, shaking off the weight of old memories. “Anyway, tell me—how goes the recruitment?”

“Not well,” Valerian admitted. “Many have failed to meet my expectations as instructors. Another candidate arrives tomorrow.”

Lucian raised an eyebrow. “An outsider?”

“Yes. A native of the northern plains. He applied several times before, but I rejected him for not being of our clan. However, I am running out of options, so I’ve decided to give him a chance.”

Lucian gave a thoughtful hum. “I hope he meets your standards.”

“I do as well, my lord. I have already rejected seven applicants. The quality of teachers these days…” Valerian shook his head.

The doors creaked open as other elders began filtering into the chamber. Their conversation came to an end as the meeting was set to begin.