Garran stood with his back against the stone wall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he watched the two girls cling to one another. Their sobs were muffled by the folds of each other's clothing, their bodies entwined like ancient trees whose roots had grown inseparably intertwined. Their pain was palpable, raw and unfiltered, seeping into the very air of the hall. Luna and Sol. Sisters, despite everything.

The image struck him, made something twist deep in his chest. The way they held each other was like wood sealed by ancient sap, preserved in time, frozen in their grief and their bond alike. Millennia could pass, and they'd still cling just like this, refusing to let go. Refusing to shatter.

His gaze shifted, focusing more on Sol. He knew Sol well she was his master's daughter after all. He'd sparred with her countless times, trying to convince her that the spear was the king of weapons. "You want reach," he'd tell her. "You want the power to kill from a distance. Swords are just big knives." She'd always laughed at him, though, brushing his arguments aside with a carefree wave of her hand. "The sword feels right," she'd said once, and that was the end of it. Stubborn girl.

Luna, though? Luna was a stranger. He'd heard of her, of course. Sol had mentioned her once or twice during training, always with a strange mixture of pride and frustration. But Garran had never been allowed to meet her. She didn't like people, Sol had said. Avoided them when possible. And now, here she was, wrapped around her sister as if the act alone could stitch the shattered pieces of her soul back together.

His jaw clenched. He shouldn't have been surprised. The girl had been through hell. Raped by that bastard Hathor. Tortured by the same villagers and elders who should have protected her. Her mother now lay dying, her body ravaged by the slow, unforgiving decay of injury and illness. And Luna herself? Her appearance had changed so drastically Garran wasn't even sure she was still part of the Canid clan. The once-familiar features were distorted, altered by whatever thing the Satyr had done to save her. She was something different now. Something new

The village was rotten. Garran had known that, of course. Everyone did. Even if they didn't always say it aloud. It was like a tree that still bore fruit but had blackened roots, feeding its children poison with every harvest. And here was the proof of that corruption: Luna. Torn, reshaped, and abandoned until it had taken a reification to bring even the faintest whisper of justice.

And Garran? He was complicit. Maybe not directly, but still. He was Lupus. He bore that name proudly, the blood of the ancient clans running through his veins like fire. He loved his people. Loved the history, the strength, the responsibility that came with the name. He'd sworn to protect that legacy. But when that legacy was part of what had allowed this nightmare to unfold...what did that make him?

His chest ached with the weight of that question.

A light tap on his left hand snapped him from his thoughts. His head jerked downward, and his gaze met a pair of sky-blue eyes. Clear, unyielding, and locked on his own.

His eyes turned to look for his old friend who would always interrupt these meetings: Hati. She was standing at the center of a knot of soldiers, her booming voice carrying across the camp as she regaled them with tales of their past skirmishes. Her wild grin flashed with predatory confidence as she bragged about 'her kids' and the audacious plan Surya had proposed. Garran didn't hear the words, not really. The sound blurred into the background as his mind spiraled into the depths of his thoughts before he turned back to her.

"You've just been staring now, haven't you?" came her, amused voice.

Garran's eyes shifted to his side, looking at Lain standing beside him. She smiled, dark hair glinting under the pale light of the three moons. Her eyes, sharp and knowing, crinkled with quiet amusement.

He blinked. "Just... thinking about the ongoing war," he said with a shrug. "I am the general, after all. If this plan works out, Wolvenblade will change drastically."

"Ah, ah, ah." She wagged a finger, her smile widening as she moved closer. "That's not what I mean. I'm sure the big, serious general was thinking about those things too, but that's not what I saw."

His brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Luna." Her voice softened as she spoke the name. "She is your master's child. She's endured more than most, by Fenrir's name. I see that guilt you're carrying around. Don't shy away from it."

His heart gave a heavy, traitorous lurch. His arms, crossed so tightly moments before, loosened. How the hell had she read him so easily? The guilt had settled into his chest like lead when he'd seen Luna earlier that day. The weight of responsibility, the sense that he'd failed to protect her when she needed it most. His stomach twisted.

"You..." His voice trailed off, searching for something to say. "You're strange, Lain. I wouldn't have expected you to be this emotionally perceptive. Do you get foresight from the suns themselves or something?"

She laughed then, a clear, ringing sound that cut through the quiet. "I'm sure everything seems particularly intelligent when compared to a common pebble."

Garran couldn't help it; a short, surprised chuckle escaped him. "You've been corrupted by Hati," he muttered after a pause, his lips quirking into a rare smile.

"Mmm," she hummed, leaning slightly into his side, the warmth of her body a subtle contrast to the crisp night air. The crackle of distant campfires murmured like restless spirits in the dark, their embers floating skyward like fragmented stars. "Perhaps. But I like to think I've simply become more fun. And you? You are too serious for your own good. Your face makes these little twitches that are astonishingly easy to read~."

Garran felt his heart stutter, an uneven beat echoing through his chest. His pulse quickened, and without his permission, his wolf ears gave a betraying twitch. Damn this body! Lain's grin widened the moment she noticed, her sharp eyes glittering with amusement.

He turned his head away sharply, jaw tightening as he summoned his stoic mask once more. The moonlight, pale and cold, caught the angular lines of his face as he shifted his gaze toward the siblings across the room. The flickering firelight from nearby torches painted shadows across their forms, giving them a ghostly quality in the half-light. Especially Luna the girl who in more ways than one was no longer a girl. For a fleeting moment, he allowed his shoulders to relax, the tension bleeding away like sand slipping between fingers.

But Lain's expression shifted with the precision of a predator catching a subtle movement in the grass. The playfulness faded, replaced by a depth of understanding that felt intrusive, like fingers pressing into an unhealed bruise. Her dark eyes locked onto his, pinning him with quiet intensity. A cold shiver trickled down his spine, brittle and undeniable.

"You carry so much," she said softly, voice low and resonant, a whisper that seemed to ripple through the very air between them. The fire crackled, momentarily louder, like the world itself paused to listen. "And not just the war." She tilted her head slightly, shadows framing her features with a grave elegance. "Luna weighs on you more than you admit. I see it in the way your jaw clenches when her name is mentioned. The way you've been staring tonight like you've seen something you can't give up."

The words struck like the bite of winter wind against raw skin. Garran's chest tightened beneath the weight of truths spoken aloud. His throat dried, and the warmth of the fire no longer touched him. He dragged in a shallow breath, but it caught halfway down.

"I failed her," he admitted, voice scraping the air like a stone on metal. His eyes flickered away, fixing on the walls that were painted with myths of Fenrir and the scales of justice which seemed so fax to his eyes at the moment. "I was supposed to protect her. To make sure she never felt what it meant to be hunted, broken, or scarred by this world." He inhaled slowly, the icy guilt constricting his ribs. "That is what he would have wanted me to do. That is what I should do given my position. And yet..."

The silence stretched. The night seemed to fold in around them, the faint distant howls of nocturnal hunters a reminder of the world's relentless nature. The wind stirred, carrying the sharp, metallic tang of cold earth and the faint, bittersweet scent of burning wood.

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"You should go introduce yourself," Lain said after a time, her tone gentler but no less firm. "I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

Garran's eyes narrowed. "Would she? In this situation?"

"Well," Lain shrugged, the motion deliberate and unhurried. "If you wait and do nothing, then nothing will happen at all." She exhaled, and when she spoke again, her voice carried a distant echo of someone else—someone older, wiser. "Fenrir says we only live one time under the suns as we are now. Before the light fades, we should dance all we can. Because no one can dance in the dark. There is nothing to see—you stumble and fall, and beauty is gone. So while the light is there, dance and howl and scream out to the sky." Her eyes gleamed as she leaned closer, the flickering fire and moonlight reflected in the priestess's gaze. "Because you are alive."

Garran was never particularly devout. He had, of course, been raised in the faith, partaking in rituals and traditions like everyone else in his village. Fenrir and the suns were familiar names spoken during prayers and celebrations, etched into his childhood memories. And even apart of his daily life. But even so, they were distant, like faded paintings on a temple wall—present but not often considered.

Yet now, standing in the courthouse with the weight of the moment pressing against his chest, he felt a nudge in the deepest recesses of his being. It was not a voice, nor a clear command. It was a subtle pull, like the warmth of a campfire on a freezing night. His eyes softened as they met Lain's.

He smiled faintly, the expression foreign after days of strained stoicism. "Thank you, Lain," he said, voice low but sincere.

Her azure eyes twinkled with something akin to pride. "I'm here to help," she replied, her voice light with that familiar, teasing lilt. Then she turned, footsteps echoing through the wooden halls as she left the courthouse.

Garran exhaled, steeling himself. He adjusted his grip on the worn shaft of his spear before setting it down beside him with deliberate care. The wooden handle, scarred from countless battles, thunked softly against the cold wood floor.

The two girls sat on a bench ahead, their hair interwoven in a cascade of gold and silver. The sight was like witnessing dawn and dusk tangled together, fragile yet resilient. Their mothers had possessed the same ethereal beauty. But their eyes—when they turned toward him—were dark, fathomless, and familiar.

Like his master's eyes.

They were puffy and red from tears shed in the lonely hours. Garran's heart twisted. He knelt slowly, one knee touching the ground as he lowered his head slightly to avoid overwhelming them with his towering presence.

"I was..." he began, then stopped, his throat tightening. He drew a steadying breath, the cold air tinged with the faint scent of incense from the courthouse altar. "Who I was doesn't really matter now. It is nice to meet you, Luna."

His voice was soft, gentle, like the whisper of leaves brushing against the forest floor.

The transformed girl, Luna blinked, her small hands curling into the fabric of her dress. Beside her, Sol fidgeted, biting her lower lip.

"Luna," Sol said with a nervous quiver in her voice, "this is Big Brother Garran. I-I wanted to make sure you were comfortable with others before I brought him around."

The girl did not respond immediately. Instead, she stared into Garran's eyes with unnerving intensity. It was more than curiosity; it was a cold, probing gaze that seemed to scrape against his very soul. He suppressed a shiver. The courthouse air felt colder, the shadows deepening beneath the vaulted ceiling.

But he did not look away.

Luna's eyes flickered downward after a long pause, the frost in them melting slightly. "I'm Luna," she mumbled, voice small, brittle. "Nice to meet you too."

Sol's shoulders sagged with relief, but her eyes darted to Garran's face, seeking reassurance.

Garran smiled gently. "Indeed," he said. "I want to be on your side more than I was before."

Without warning, he bent forward, bowing his head until his forehead touched the polished stone floor. His arms stretched before him, palms down in a gesture of absolute supplication.

Both girls gasped.

"What are you doing? Get up!" Sol's voice cracked with shock.

"Huh?!" Luna's head snapped up, bewilderment contorting her delicate features.

"I am truly sorry for not living up to my responsibilities," Garran said, his voice vibrating with raw emotion. The cold stone beneath him was unyielding, grounding him in his guilt. "You can blame me. I am willing to accept that."

The weight of his failures pressed down on him. As a general, he had failed to protect those entrusted to him. As the next chieftain, he had faltered in guiding those who needed him. And as a student—his master's student—he had let that promise shatter like fragile glass.

Tears blurred his vision. Hot trails etched down his cheeks, burning against his skin.

"I really am sorry..." he whispered into the stone, voice splintering beneath the confession. The words were carried into the stillness, swallowed by the vastness of the courthouse.

He did not lift his head. He did not move. He simply knelt there, hoping that perhaps this small act of humility might bridge the chasm he had helped create.

"I really am sorry..."

A weight slammed into Garran with the force of a small sun, nearly knocking the breath from his lungs. His body tensed instinctively, but the familiar scent of lavender and soil calmed his racing heart. Sol had always been fond of gardens and her favorite flower was clear, though the girl fancied herself a warrior more than a gardener she liked taking care of things. Yes, it was the golden form of Sol, her arms wrapped tightly around his torso, her face buried against his shoulder. Her hair, glimmering like spun sunlight, pressed against his cheek.

On the other side, another presence anchored him. Clawed hands gripped his arm with surprising gentleness. The cold touch of those claws sent a shiver through his skin nearly making him flinch, but it was not the frost of detachment he'd sensed before. No, this time the chill was softer, like the crispness of dawn air after a long night. Luna stood there beside her sister, her dark eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her grip was firm, but her expression had softened.

Together, the sisters lifted him from his bowed position on the wood floor. The courthouse, vast and solemn with its great pillars and towering murals to the suns, seemed to fade into the background. All that remained was the warmth of Sol's embrace and the cool, grounding touch of Luna's grasp.

"Thank you," Luna said, voice trembling but clear. Tears traced glistening paths down her cheeks along purple trails, catching the flickering light from the torches lining the white and black walls. She smiled then—a small, fragile curve of her lips that made Garran's throat tighten. "Thank you... and it's okay." Her voice hitched just a bit like a sad pause in the middle of a bird song. But she did not falter and her song continued still.

Garran swallowed hard. The sincerity in those words cut through his guilt like a blade through silk.

Luna's smile wavered as more tears spilled free, but her gaze never left his. "I will never be weak again," she declared, each word spoken with the determination of someone far older than her years. Her claws flexed slightly, pressing into his arm. "I will swallow the world like my mother told me to."

Garran's eyes widened at her phrasing, the weight of it settling into his chest like a stone sinking into deep water. The firelight caught the silver strands of her hair, turning them into shimmering threads of moonlight. Swallow the world huh?

"I appreciate it," she continued, voice steady despite the tears. "But... from now on, I want to be able to help myself."

The courthouse air shifted. The scent of burning incense mingled with the faint metallic tang of old blood, a reminder of past battles and sacrifices. Outside, the wind whispered against the wood walls, as if the world itself paused to listen to her declaration. It was strange it was as if she was loved by the world.

A wry smile stretched across Garran's face, his heart a tumult of pride and sorrow. The steel in her voice, the resolve that burned within her dark eyes—it was unmistakable.

Indeed, she was his daughter after all.

He exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders melting away as he met her gaze. "It's a good mindset to have," he said softly. His voice was low but carried through the empty hall like the distant roll of thunder. "A good mindset indeed."