One for the Wolves

The Countess D

There was the sound of rushing water. A gentle breeze. Atra opened her eyes and found herself in a garden she'd long left behind, flowers peeping from lush green grass and water unspooled from an alien spire. The Darcia's castle watched on.

For just a moment, she allowed herself to search for a splash of white fur along the shore only to be rewarded with a stab of grief. Kiba was gone. Cheza, too. But there was someone in the distance, waiting for her—a woman with hair so long that silken tresses pooled at her feet.

Atra moved forward in that floating way that's customary of dreams. The woman turned to face her as she approached, with eyes of amethyst and a radiating beauty.

"You listened."

Atra started. She'd heard that voice once before. Kind, soothing, bidding her to look for the light of the moon as the water rose to her ankles and higher still.

The woman knelt towards her, her fingers slipping into the thick of Atra's fur, welcoming her as Cheza had greeted Kiba on the same shore. "There is a curse upon this world. Will you end it, little wolf?"

Atra's breath caught in her throat. A curse? An ending? A question: "Who are you?" She heard herself say, wary even as she let the weight of her chin rest in the stranger's touch.

There was a curve to her shapely lips. "I am of little consequence, now."

"Now?"

As Atra looked up to meet her gaze, she found herself in a room of indigo stone. Lines that might have shone gold once were carved into the walls. At the far end of the room, there was a grand stained glass window that reached towards the heavens, its edges decorated with purple and blue flora shaped in a suggestion of a woman's curves. Where the window tapered, a deathbed began—the woman from the garden in cold repose, her hair spilling from her chaise and onto the floor.

There was another body in the room. A soldier armored in steel and gold, standing over the corpse, lips barely moving. The barest whisper of a word traveled across the room. Sister.

The armored helmet lifted at the sound of Atra's gasp.

"We collected seventeen two months ago. That makes twenty-three the last of them." The man—a lieutenant, if Rafe was to be believed—gestured at the papers he'd spread out onto the table. Reports or maps, Atra assumed, based on their conversation. She quietly stepped into the room as Rafe and the other officers around the table leaned forward to take a closer look. "It should be no problem retrieving him. A night's travel, by air. We'll greet Lady Jaguara before setting out."

"Lady Jaguara is here?" Their heads tipped up to look at her. As Rafe forced a smile, there was the sound of rolling parchment. Atra quirked a brow.

The officers watched with guarded expressions as Rafe pushed off from the table to greet her. He reached for her, gingerly touching his fingers to her wrist. "How are you feeling?"

She'd returned with Rafe as a defector—a wolf who'd soured on running wild and yearned for the comforts Jaguara's army had to offer. The soldiers who had witnessed their escape of the city were rightfully suspicious of her. But when Rafe declared that he'd taken her as his mate, they didn't question them further.

What does it matter? She heard them whisper. Eventually, we'll set her right.

She'd traveled with the troops through the canyon and across the plains to a town that serviced one of Jaguara's airbases. While the soldiers slept in the barracks, she and Rafe sheltered in a single room down the hall. Atra couldn't help but recall Kuri's kennel when she peeked inside. It was little more than an empty closet, bare if not for a thin blanket spread across the floor.

The first night, she'd prepared for the worst. She tracked Rafe's every move, muscles taut and ears alert. Defying her suspicions, he stationed himself at the foot of the door and stayed there through the night. Their arrangement persisted throughout their time there, with Atra going untouched until she'd startled awake with a gasp, gardens and stained glass fresh in her mind's eye.

In a moment, Rafe was hovering over her. "A nightmare?"

His hand flew to her, the touch so gentle she nearly leaned into it before remembering the chain of events that had led them there. Rafe barely had time to pull back before she snapped her jaws.

In the room with the soldiers, she found herself similarly disgusted by his concern. Rather than answering him, she repeated herself: "You said Lady Jaguara's here?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Yes. She's returning from a mission." Behind him, the humans whispered silly things about happy wives. She watched with satisfaction as Rafe's expression grew darker by the moment. He retracted his hand, instead offering his arm to her. "We were just finishing up. Walk with me?"

She gave him a skeptical once over before looping her arm through his. Imperceptibly, his face fell at the twitters that erupted around the table. He looked to her in a silent bid for commiseration, and despite herself Atra smiled. At her nod, they walked from the room at a leisurely pace.

On the streets, men sent them sharp glances as they hurried from building to building. From one of the rooms, someone sang with a low and pleasant voice, so lovely it wasn't until after the sound faded that Atra wondered whether he'd ever stared at her down the barrel of his gun. "There are no women here," she found herself saying, regretting it immediately with Rafe's obvious, pleasant surprise at being spoken to.

"Not in the army, no." He pulled her closer, just a hair. "Women are encouraged to stay out of battles to preserve the opportunity for future families."

"For breeding," Atra rephrased dryly.

He frowned. "It's not so cold as that."

They fell blessedly quiet. Rafe stayed focused on the road ahead as the buildings of the military compound melted away, replaced by the structures of a humbler village. Atra idly observed the changes. Suddenly, she could hear children laughing around corners. The smell of gunpowder and metal faded. She felt Rafe's gaze drift to her as another scent emerged, enticing and so rare that it was difficult to place, her nose twitching in surprise.

A young woman emerged from a house in the distance. She was a pretty girl, hair the color of rye framing a round, fed face. She beamed at the sight of them, her hand immediately rising to wave above her head. "Rafe!" She faltered at the sight of Atra, the corners of her mouth just barely sinking.

He walked them towards her. As they chatted, their tones familiar and animated, Atra tried to identify that scent. It was warm, at once tantalizing with the promise of prey and repulsive with the rank odor of refuse and hay.

"My fiancee," Rafe said, and on cue she shot the girl a polite smile.

"Welcome," she said, her smile not so earnest. To Rafe, she said, "We're done with the feedings for the day. Take your time."

He dipped his head. "Thanks." The girl slipped back into the house, her ears gone red. Rafe turned to Atra as the door shut, jerking his head towards the corner. "Shall we?"

As they resumed walking, Atra murmured, "I think you just broke her heart."

To his credit, the look that passed across Rafe's face looked something like guilt. "Well, what other choice did I have?"

"She doesn't know."

"No. Only members of Jaguara's force and elite guard know what we are. To everyone else, I'm just an eligible young bachelor. Or was." Atra narrowed her eyes at his cheeky grin before turning ahead.

They approached a number of enclosures with wire fences and wooden hutches along the sides. Across the ground, little mounds of gray, white, and brown fur tumbled against each other. Rabbits, Atra finally realized, and though her nose stung with the smell of their captivity, the sight of them was enough to make her stomach growl. She spotted Rafe's triumphant smile out of the corner of her eye. In her stubborn grief, she hadn't eaten a real meal in days.

"Takes less resources than cattle," Rafe explained as he led her to one of the pens. "If we need furs for a hard winter, they provide that too. And even in hard times, they breed like… well…"

In their pens, the rabbits frantically scrambled away from their feet, recognizing them for what they were. They were all young things, more fluff than substance. But there were so many of them, so much life hoarded in one place while the rest of the world lay barren. As she took in the system the girl's family had constructed—resourceful, elegant, efficient—Atra teetered along a spectrum between sickened and impressed.a

Rafe read her expression as awe. "They mate for life too, you know." He pointed to a row of cages with one or two rabbits scurrying inside. "They keep the breeding pairs there." He gestured then to the younger rabbits fleeing from them. "These are being prepared to feed the compound. Ayla gives me first choice. She thinks I cook them, but the result's the same either way."

"That explains why you were so awful on our hunts."

With a hard smirk, Rafe reached through a small gate in the enclosure's wire walls. He unlatched it with a flick of a claw. A chorus of awful, pitchy screams sounded as he reached inside. One came to a sudden stop. Moments later, Atra caught his prey in her hands, still warm. Glancing to and fro, he led her away from the center of the farm to a small patch of grass behind a nearby shed.

"Eat," he said, lowering himself to sit on the ground. "It's a small farm. No one should be coming by."

Atra stared, first at Rafe then at the meal in her hands, her mouth watering. Finally, she said, "Being mates wasn't part of the deal."

For a beat, the only sound was the soft breeze and the shuffle of rabbits as they scampered away. Cool as he tried to be, there was an angry twitch in Rafe's brow. "No. But playing along serves our purposes for now."

She frowned at him, the knot in her chest wound tight. "What about later?"

"Doesn't matter. Now, I expect you to be safe." Rafe lifted his eyes to hers, a look of anguish if she'd ever seen one. "Your life for their chance. That was the deal. Do you really think I would force you—"

"I don't know what to think," she said, her glare fierce. "How could I? I don't even know if you're ever going to follow through."

Fear rushed through her for just a moment as Rafe stood, a dark scowl on his face. "I asked you to be patient. To trust me. You can't expect me to just run off and do your bidding."

"No. You only do that for your Lady, apparently."

She was quieted by a snarl. Rafe towered over her, nostrils flaring, the scent of the carcass thick between them. Even as she glowered up at him, Atra became uncomfortably aware of the power he held. It had always been so easy for Rafe to pin her down.

As if the same thought had crossed his mind, his lips curved in a pantomime of ease. "You'll have to watch your mouth here. The others won't be as patient as I am." His eyes pointedly flickered to the rabbit and back. "Now eat."

She stared at him, her breaths slow, before finally lowering herself to the ground to obey. Rafe stayed standing, watching her for a few minutes before saying coldly, "I'm leaving for a mission in two days. You'll travel with another troop to Jaguara's Keep." Atra paused at this new information before nodding, turning her eyes to the earth as he continued. "While I help the others prepare for the journey, you're free to eat here, as long as you're careful not to let anyone see. Though, Lady Jaguara wants to see you before you leave."

Atra stopped then, brow creasing as she looked up to Rafe. "She wants to see me?"

"To greet you," he said, as if this were the most uninteresting news in the world. "She meets all the wolves that are brought back. She usually waits until we're at the keep, but since we're all in town, she's requested your company tomorrow evening. Her guard will escort you."

She remembered the elite guard well—the soldiers with the medieval armor and glaives. Her expression darkened as she remembered their last encounter. "What was her mission? The one she returned from?"

Rafe cocked a brow. "Does it matter? It was successful. That's all you need to know."

Atra fell quiet, eating slowly, hating how satisfied she felt as her stomach filled. "This mission you're on," she began between bites. "You're going after the pack, aren't you?"

After one long moment, he replied with a slow nod.

She placed what was left of her meal on the ground, an unrecognizable mess of fur and bones. Her muscles flexed beneath the blood on her hands. "You can't."

"I have to fulfill my part of the bargain," he said, his tone patient, gentle, as if soothing her from a nightmare. "Remember?"

Atra swallowed. Of course she did. But still— "You said they'd live."

"And they will. If I can help it." The silence that befell them was heavy. Skeptical. Rafe sighed. He lowered himself to the ground, frowning as Atra pulled back at his approach. Settling for less, he reached for her hand, relaxing only when she deigned to give it. "You trusted me once, bee." He turned her wrist over in his, their palms facing up. His thumb brushed across a spot of red on her skin, urging it away. "One last time. Do it again."

The island was crawling with wolves, small in stature but adept at crawling through the brush. They peeped at them between slim trees, all with light coats and curious eyes. Seika greeted them with a stiff nod as she led the way. Kiba followed close behind, Cheza's hand in his. With such a companion, he'd expected to cause a stir. But he hadn't accounted for how strange it would be to bear the attention of his own kind.

For the first time since Freeze City, Kiba felt his guise chafing. Try as he might, he couldn't help but feel self-conscious of how very human their pack was. The bangles, the collars, even their wide-eyed stares. He fidgeted in his phantom skin. None of Seika's pack had bothered to use human guises thus far. It was unclear if they even knew how. If not to see Cheza, Kiba wondered many of them rushed to gawk at the wolves who had to resort to such measures while they—a real pack—thrived.

"There are so many of you," Cheza commented, glowing in such company.

"Yes. We may need to move to the forest soon," Hama said.

"And I thought our pack was getting big," Toboe breathed, his head turning to catch the eye of another wolf watching in the distance.

"We've been lucky," Seika said, keeping her eyes trained on an opening in the trees. "There's plenty of fish to feed us here, and the isolation helps."

"You've been here since the floods?" Tsume asked.

"Longer." Seika glanced at him over his shoulder, flush with pride. "We once lived in harmony with the human tribes along the coast. They granted us protection, once upon a time. If the stories are to be believed, we've stayed relatively hidden for centuries."

"That's incredible," Kuri said. "My old pack was able to stay hidden for some time too, but that was because we avoided humans. We'd never dream of working with them."

"Like I said, we were lucky. Humans aren't always so open to sharing the earth the way our comrades were." As they neared the opening in the trees, the sounds of activity grew. Just before Seika turned back to the path ahead, her eyes softened. "We owe them our lives."

"What happened to them?" Toboe asked.

"Lost to the floods," Kolus answered. "All of them fallen to the curse of the Darcia's."

Kiba frowned. "Curse?"

Kolus and Seika shared a thoughtful look. Then, with a curt nod, he said, "There's a fallen keep is not far north of here owned by the House of Darcia. When the family fell, so did their empire. The cities. The tribes. Some say it was their sins that summoned the storms."

Tsume frowned, taking in the intrigue on the others' faces with a skeptical glance. "Should we worry about that? The keep, not the rumors."

Seika shook her head. "The young Lord doesn't spend much time at home nowadays. Roaming for a way to break the curse, or so some believe."

"Like a spell, or…?" Hige sent a sideways glance towards Cheza.

"If you've kept yourselves hidden long enough to reach our shores, you should be safe." She shook her head as if to banish their wariness to the wayside. "If you have other questions, Hakik can explain the rest."

Kiba's brow furrowed. "Your leader?"

"Of a kind," Kolus said. "Hakik was the last, before Seika and I took over."

"Our leaders step down in their old age," Hama explained. "In their prime, they protect the pack and carry the story of Paradise. But when their strength wanes, they select a new wolf to take their place. The new guard protects them as they wait for the chosen wolf to arrive. If no one comes, they pass the story on to the next."

Kiba thought back to Nerine in her odd little home. "They call you the keepers of Paradise outside of these parts. I guess that's why."

Seika chuckled. "I suppose so."

"So, you think Kiba's the chosen wolf?" Tsume looked suspiciously at her.

"We know he is."

"Atra said so, too." Kuri said quietly, flinching as Kiba cut his eyes at her. "S-sorry."

"It's fine," he said, his voice hard. Kiba shoved the hand that wasn't holding Cheza's into his jacket pocket, clenching it into a fist. He knew they thought they were being kind in removing her name from their vocabularies, but he hadn't realized how he'd hungered to hear it until now. "When?"

Kuri's look was almost too tender to bear. "After we found Cheza. She said you must be the wolf that would bring us to Paradise, to track her down the way you did." She trailed off, opting not to share how the conversation had ended. Atra staring at him, talking about love.

His lips pressed into a thin line. He'd never doubted his place in the search for Paradise. Between the pull in his chest, his unlikely survival as a pup, and the words of the man who'd raised him, he couldn't dream up another reason why he'd be put on this earth except to open those gates. But 'chosen' was a weighty word, and the fact that Atra had assigned it to him…

What had she said to him on the shores of Nerine's lake? I'm not like you. Thinking so little of herself even then, so painfully self-conscious as she'd pulled away.

Kolus moved aside to allow Seika to step between the trees, glancing at Kiba curiously as he did. "There's another member of your pack?"

Kiba bit back a growl as he followed Seika, answering with a simple, "No."

They let the conversation taper as they stepped into the glade. Kiba scanned their surroundings, taking in the sight of the gentle swells of land alongside a burbling creek. Wolves lay in repose across the grass. In the distance, curious pups—a bit younger and lankier than Toboe—emerged from the trees. At the highest point of their camp, a large tree sprouted from the earth, its trunk leaning as if it could fall at any moment. There was just enough space beneath its arced roots for a generous den.

"I'll see if Hakik is ready for you." Seika hurried past them to climb the slope, leaving Kolus idling nearby. Meanwhile, Hama wandered off to speak to another wolf who waited on the ridge. Female. Likely his own mate. She welcomed him warmly, nestling her head against the crook of his neck.

Kiba looked away.

It had only been a few hours since he'd found Kuri in Tsume's arms. Kiba had never seen him so gentle, or Kuri so sad. Now, Kuri was glowing, looking across the glade with an undisguised wonder, no doubt entertaining happier memories of her old pack. Watching her in his periphery made it easy to fool himself into imagining another awed sister in her place.

Tsume stood at his shoulder, peering up towards the den. "You think he'll be able to tell us more than what we already know?"

"Don't know."

"It's not like we have a lot to go off of to begin with," Hige butt in, moving closer to the two of them and lowering his voice. "We just know that Cheza's supposed to lead us right?"

Tsume grunted in reply. His eyes trailed after Kuri as she wandered towards the creek with Toboe. There was a wolf there, stalking along the water just as Kuri had earlier that day. "I guess it can't hurt."

Kiba followed his line of sight as Kolus walked to Kuri's side. They chatted with the other wolf, intermittently glancing towards them. In a couple of minutes, they approached their group with a bounty of fish to share. Kolus bid them to eat as they waited, though the encouragement was unnecessary. With more than a little amusement, he watched as Hige fell upon the food and politely walked away as the others followed suit.

When Hige had scarfed down all he could, he sat back, bracing himself on his palms. "Hey, Kiba," he said, "All that stuff about you being the chosen one or whatever—I know we haven't had a chance to talk about it but does that have anything to do with what Atra did?"

Cheza turned to Kiba as his chest clenched. From her seat beside him, Kuri glowered at Hige. "I'm sure he doesn't want to talk about that right now, Hige."

"You don't speak for me," Kiba said, a bitter satisfaction running through him as Kuri cowed under his sharp glare. He sniffed. "Then again, you probably know the answer better than I do."

Kuri was spared from replying by a rustling at the center of the glade. They looked up as Seika reemerged from the shadows beneath the roots of the tree. She beckoned them closer with a bowed head. Hakik was ready.

Hakik greeted them from his seat against the back wall of the den, sitting up in the slow, cautious way of the elderly. But aged as he was—gray film had brightened his irises against the shadows—his build was strong, robust, with lush fur and muscle that spoke of a better fortune than the scrawny old wolf they'd met in Zali's city.

"You've finally come," he said as they crept awkwardly beneath the roots, eyes blinking as they adjusted to the light. "Please, sit."

They sat before him in an arc, Kiba and Cheza at its center. Hakik took in the sight of them with a smile. "The maiden and her white wolf. Kiba, is it?" At his nod, Hakik nodded to himself. "We've been waiting for you for quite some time."

"Sorry," Kiba said. He grimaced at his awkward apology before trying to place Hakik's face in his multitude of memories. Coming up empty, he said, "I guess I got lost along the way."

Those grayed eyes sparked. "What an interesting thing to say."

The den fell quiet but for the sounds of them shifting in their seats. When it stretched on a second too long, Tsume sucked at his teeth. "Can we get on with it?"

"Tsume," Toboe scolded.

"It's fine. Tsume is right. We shouldn't drag on." Hakik closed his eyes and took a slow breath, his guise drifting over him like a cloak. The old wolf that lounged in the cave was replaced by an old man, bare-chested and cross-legged on the dirt floor. His skin seemed, at first glance, an extension of the bark that stretched above them, brown and etched with deep lines. White hair fell loosely about his shoulders. He opened his eyes, revealing the same aged eyes peering at them through a layer of film. "Now then. Tell me what you know about Paradise."

Kiba began, reciting quietly, "Once a year, on the night of the full moon, flowers will hear the moon's call and return to Paradise. That's the legend I've heard. That Cheza will lead us there."

"Good. And?" Hakik prompted.

"Well, there's plenty more," Hige said. "All that stuff about the beast that appears. How Paradise is just a way of resetting the world and starting a new cycle all over again."

"And in one of the villages we visited, we heard a story about the winds. The North Wind was a white wolf and the South was a harvest goddess," Toboe said, leaning forward with his hands braced upon his knees. He paused before falling back reluctantly. "We were wondering if that could be connected somehow."

"Everything's connected," Hakik said pleasantly.

Tsume frowned. "I think you know what we mean."

He lifted a hand and waved it as if to say, Of course, before dropping his gaze to the earth, considering the stories they'd laid before him. He rested a hand on his chest. "Let's begin here. Tell me: do you know how your guise came to be?"

"My guise?" Toboe said, tilting his head in thought. "I don't really remember."

"I think he means all of our guises, runt," Tsume said, his tone patient despite the word.

"It's alchemy, isn't it?" Kuri's smile faltered as the room turned to look at her. "At least, that's what Rafe used to say."

Kiba briefly closed his eyes in a poor attempt to hide his flinch. Hakik took note of it with a curious smile. "That's right. Alchemy is an ancient art and practice, so rooted in us now that many wolves don't even have a basic understanding of what makes our greatest weapon for survival possible. Not that they need it. It's become instinctive; as natural as knowing how to claw and bite."

"And that has something to do with Paradise?" Hige asked.

"Yes. Just as our ability to appear human is rooted in alchemy, so is our ability to open its gates." Hakik nodded to himself before continuing, "The Book of the Moon claims that in order to open Paradise, three actors are needed: the Maiden, the Wolf, and the Beast."

He lifted three fingers. "A powerful number—three. It's everywhere, isn't it? In religion. Superstition. 'Third time's the charm.'" He lowered his hand, looking thoughtfully to the earth. "Alchemy is no exception. It dictates that the spiritual world is crafted of three principles: salt, mercury, and sulfur. All are necessary to support energy, matter, and life."

"So the Maiden, the Wolf, and the Beast are like the three principles?" Toboe asked.

With a twinkle in his eye, Hakik said, "In fact, I believe the assumption that they represent the principles is why the Book of the Moon has been accepted as fact for so long."

Kiba lifted his eyes to Hakik's, his attention won. He watched as the elder hunched forward, lifting a claw to the soil to draw a circle with a cross at the center between them, then four symbols at its edges.

Toboe's brow furrowed, recognizing the shape. "A windrose?"

"Yes, of a kind." Hakik shot him a smile. "The three principles make up all that is unseen in our universe, but they cannot exist without the basic elements of our physical realm. Can you tell me what they are?"

"The elements?" Hige frowned.

"There are four," Cheza answered, fingers touching her waterskin as if in demonstration. Her hands traveled as she spoke, touching the soil beneath her feet before rising higher. "Water, earth, fire, and air."

"Exactly that," Hakik said, pleased. "In short, it's our pack's belief that it's not three actors that are needed to open the gates, but four."

There was a long pause before Kiba spoke, his voice rough. "Explain."

With a nod, Hakik gestured to the crude illustration before them. "It is a strong number. Sturdy. There are four elements. Four winds. The world cycles through four seasons. Even we experience four phases of life." Starting at the top of the circle and moving clockwise, he tapped about the circle. "Birth at the north, youth, adulthood, and the west for death. As powerful as the three principles are, the four elements make up what we sense, this world we can touch, taste, see. And so you see the problem, don't you? With three actors, the idea of Paradise might be accessed, but the fourth is required for it to be fully realized. Whole. "

They sat with this for a few moments before Kuri tilted her head to the side in thought. "I think I understand. But… the human legend we came across said the north wind represented death. Are you saying they've got it wrong?"

Hakik chuckled. "Humans do have a tendency to oversimplify, don't they? Why don't we give this a try?" He drew circles alongside the letters of the compass, filling in the northern orb with his claw. For the circles to the east and west, he left a crescent of dirt untouched—the two designs mirroring each other across the way. "Another cycle: the four major phases of our moon. The new moon, the full moon, and the moon as it waxes and wanes. These phases are yet another reflection of the phases of life."

Placing his hand at the northern moon, he said, "The new moon is where the lunar cycle ends and begins. This is true of the season of winter as it is death itself. Humans are often overwhelmed by the end of things. But you see, as much as it can be said that the white wolf of the north brings the end, it can also be said that he's bringing us a new start."

Hakik gestured to the full moon at the south and nodded towards Cheza. "Your harvest goddess and maiden. The full moon. As the white wolf's counterpart, she is neither beginning nor ending, but the fleeting prime of life."

The moon to the west: "The moon as it wanes. A representative of the fall in all its meanings. The decline. Death, in another sense. This would be your beast."

Hakik sat back, letting his lesson steep before adding, "In our tale, the fourth is required to open Paradise's gates. But, two centuries ago, a book published by a Noble family claimed that these three alone could open Paradise, erasing the fourth from the story and inviting a curse upon their lands."

Kiba's eyes narrowed, an uneasy anticipation growing in him. "The waxing moon."

"And the Darcia's," Hige added.

At Hakik's nod, Kuri asked, "But why would they do something like that? What does it accomplish?"

"The true Paradise is a world in which wolves reign," he replied. "Lord Darcia I would not have it. To remove any trace of the waxing moon is to preserve the status quo that humans and Nobles have enjoyed thus far. Now, the only Paradise within reach is imperfect; merely a renewal of the world we live in rather than its transformation. Thus, we are trapped in a cycle, forever searching for a way to break it.

"The Darcia's paid dearly for it, of course. Their territory was beset by disaster, including the great floods, as you've seen here. It's said Lord Darcia I escaped to a Paradise of his own making. But among the wolves, there are whispers that his spirit is doomed to fly across the earth until the true Paradise has been found. The curse is their penance—a blight that takes everything they yearn for against a debt that can never be repaid. Their rule, their joy, even those they love, lost in the name of Paradise."

Kiba stared at the crude illustration of the waxing moon, the rush of his blood roaring in his ears. Faintly, he heard Hige say, "So if we're going by what you said earlier, the wolf of the waxing moon would be youth, right?"

Hakik hummed as he let his paw rest beside the eastern moon. "I suppose it makes more sense to call her the facilitator of youth. Like the maiden, the waxing moon represents a kind of fertility. For this reason, human interpretations of this tale often collapse them into the same deity. But without her, the full moon could not be. Together, they are creation—she is the spark, the inception of an idea; the maiden, the follow-through. As the new moon is winter, she is spring, the ability to birth and bring life forth anew. Such is the nature of the east, the wind of the rising sun."

"She," Kiba repeated softly. Kuri turned towards him, the two of them sharing a look.

Hakik took a slow breath through his nose. "As you and Cheza are linked, so are the Beast and Waxing Moon. As their corresponding phases do, they will appear at first glance as the other."

Kiba swallowed. "I don't understand."

"To put it simply," Hakik finished with a smile, "The legends say they will look alike. Both will appear in the form of black wolves."

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Not gonna lie, I've been a little nervous about this chapter since I drafted it. The ideas here are nothing new. There are plenty of OCs joining the pack fics to go around, but it was my hope that in the end, the logic of my take felt woven into the magic and mystery of the canon series. So here's what I came up with, with a little alchemy research here and a stretch of canon there.

If you've made it this far, thank you for reading this incredibly self-indulgent project of mine. Can't believe this baby is winding down!