Resonance: When frequencies align, they resonate with each other.

I was alone in the vast darkness, illuminated by a single light. Under it, I danced alone, pouring my entire being into each movement. Every breath, every gesture was a desperate struggle, a furious effort to rise and whirl, embodying the frantic fight for survival.

Air currents sliced across my skin, brushing against every tiny hair, while my center of gravity shifted with each new pose. There was an unstoppable, crimson pulse coursing through my burning life force.

I was the eye of the storm. Every wave of motion surged, roared, and crashed around me, creating a chaotic symphony. As long as the curtain hadn't fallen, the world was my stage, and the stage was my world. And I, I was the focal point of the only light.

No, this is not right. I lost consciousness and blacked out. Wake up, now!

Forcing my eyes open, I sat up from the snowdrift, scanning my surroundings, trying to make sense of what had happened.

Footprints--at least two sets--stretched towards a chaotic depression in the snow. Piqsirpoq had also been knocked down somehow. There were also signs of dragging, and two... no, three sets of footprints.

One of the footprints grew deeper, and the strides shortened, indicating that the person had lifted Piqsirpoq. Because of this, they had to walk behind the group, revealing the person who was trying to cover their tracks by stepping in their comrade's footprints. They hadn't noticed that the depth of the footprints was inconsistent.

Even from this distance, I could feel a sharp sting in my nose. If I got any closer and tried to sniff the tracks, my nose would probably go numb immediately.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

After checking my condition, I confirmed that apart from a slight ringing in my ears and the metallic taste of blood in my mouth, I was mostly unharmed.

They had penetrated deep into the Senate's territory and kidnapped the gray wolf under protection. This was unprecedented! Whatever the kidnappers' identities or intentions, they definitely weren't concerned with Piqsirpoq's welfare.

I looked up at the gray sky. The snowstorm was worsening. How long would the tracks remain visible? I didn't know, but it wouldn't be long.

I tried to suppress the unsettling rumors that came to mind--those about why the Canine Empire was so dangerous for gray wolves.

I had to find him, and quickly!

Removing the terminal from my arm, I saw a web of cracks spreading across the screen. Damn it!

I focused, constructing a wave pattern from memory to send a signal to Qana.

No response.

Damn, if Qana was in a place with an adamantine shield, he wouldn't receive anything. And even if he did, he was in the Colosseo, more than a hundred kilometers from here!

The storeroom--the terminal there belonged to the Senate's network. I could use it to contact the others at Hadrian's Wall!

Struggling to my feet, I ran through the thick snow as fast as I could, climbed the steps, crossed the training ground, and frantically tapped the code on the panel outside the storeroom. As soon as the sliding door moved, I slipped inside.

I tapped the terminal panel twice to wake the mainframe, but I quickly realized the connection to the internal network was severed.

Damn it, now what?

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, considering the nearly useless options I had left, including running the two kilometers back to the nearest facility at Hadrian's Wall.

After calling out to Qana again with no response, I reached the only logical conclusion--I was Piqsirpoq's only hope.

I didn't want to dwell on how dire that made the situation. There was no time to be distracted.

I approached a storage locker and retrieved what I needed--the adamantine-forged Turkish scimitar.

I hefted it in my hand, synchronizing its vibrations with my own and feeling the low hum in response. Then, infusing it with my consciousness, I swung it through the air, unleashing a slash with the blade's resonance.

The shrill whistle of air being cleaved, the ear-piercing screech of twisting metal, and the massive gash carved into the storeroom wall all echoed in response to my action.

Good, this will work.

I glanced at the scimitar in my hand, trying to bolster my confidence.

I just need to... be careful, right?