Chapter 2

The rain kept falling. The SUV bounced along the winding mountain road, each jolt like another cut across my heart.

I gripped the seat tightly, my knuckles white. Through the window lay an endless dark forest, moonlight smothered by heavy clouds, with only the occasional sweep of headlights illuminating a few twisted ancient trees.

"How much farther?" My voice cracked.

Fenrir didn't answer, just focused on the steering wheel. His profile appeared sharp and angular in the dashboard's dim glow, as cold and impassive as carved stone.

Another sharp turn, and gravity pulled my body to one side. Suddenly, a familiar metallic scent invaded my nostrils—the smell of blood.

No, that wasn't right. This was the scent of memory.

Sixteen years ago, deep in the forest...

"Mama! Mama, come quick!"

Ten-year-old me dragged heavy branches aside and pushed through the underbrush, my voice thick with tears. At my feet, a small wolf lay curled in a pool of blood, its silver-gray fur stained deep red.

"Oh my God, Ella, get away from there!" Mother's scream echoed from the distance.

But I didn't obey. I crouched down and carefully extended my hand.

"Are you still alive?" I whispered, tears dripping onto the wolf pup's fur.

The small wolf slowly opened its eyes—ice-blue irises that stunned me with their purity, clear as mountain spring water.

"Don't... be afraid of me..." the wolf pup spoke weakly, barely a whisper.

I blinked and answered without hesitation: "I'm not afraid. You're just hurt. Mama says we should always help injured animals."

The wolf pup gazed at me, shock flickering in its eyes: "You... aren't afraid of me?"

"You look lonely," I said gently, "just like me."

The SUV jolted again, yanking me back to reality. I stole a glance at Fenrir beside me—those ice-blue eyes that had once been pure as spring water were now cold as thousand-year-old ice.

"What are you thinking about?" Fenrir suddenly spoke, his voice low as night wind.

"Nothing." I quickly looked away.

But the flood of memories had already broken free, and I couldn't stop it...

"Slower! You'll scare the fish away!"

By a small stream deep in the forest, sunlight filtered through leaves in dappled patterns. Twelve-year-old me and Fenrir, who could now freely shift between forms, were engaged in a very serious fish-catching competition.

"I won't!" Young Fenrir grinned, revealing slightly sharp canine teeth. "Wolf hunting instincts are no joke."

Just as he finished speaking, a silver-scaled fish slipped through his fingers, creating a huge splash.

I burst out laughing: "These are the instincts you mentioned?"

Fenrir blushed, somewhat indignant: "Don't laugh! I'm just not used to human fingers yet!"

"Okay, okay, I won't laugh." I suppressed my laughter and pulled two pieces of bread from my backpack. "Fine, let's eat these instead. I snuck them from home."

We sat on a large rock, sharing the warm bread. The early summer breeze caressed our faces—everything felt too beautiful to be real.

"Your father still isn't coming home?" Fenrir asked carefully.

My smile dimmed: "No, he's always away on business. Mama cries all the time, thinking I don't notice."

"My pack abandoned me," Fenrir's voice grew heavy. "They said I'm mixed-blood, unworthy of life. They called me a disgrace."

I turned to look at him, eyes full of sympathy: "Then they're idiots."

"What?"

"You're the bravest, kindest person I've ever met," I said seriously. "If they can't see that, it's their loss."

Fenrir stared at me in astonishment, then extended his pinky finger: "Then let's promise—friends forever?"

"Forever." I hooked my pinky with his. "No matter what happens."

Outside the car window, the outline of distant mountains began to sharpen. I bit my lip, forcing myself not to cry aloud.

Where had that boy who shared bread with me gone? Where was the friend who protected me in the forest and promised to stay forever?

As if sensing my gaze, Fenrir said coldly: "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're searching for something long dead."

Something dead... I smiled bitterly. Yes, that Fenrir was indeed dead. Dead from the moment he was dragged away.

"Quick! Hide in the tree hollow!"

Summer when I was fourteen, beneath an ancient oak at the forest's edge. Fenrir suddenly looked around nervously, nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air.

"What's wrong?" I asked, confused.

"They're coming," Fenrir's face went pale. "My pack. They finally found me."

Heavy footsteps and low growls echoed from the distance. Without hesitation, Fenrir pushed me into the tree hollow behind us: "No matter what happens, don't come out. Remember my promise."

"What promise? What are you talking about?" I grabbed his hand in terror. "Fenrir!"

"Wait for me" he turned to face the approaching wolf warriors, voice trembling but resolute. "I swear. I'll become strong enough to protect you."

"Will you really come back?" My voice was nearly drowned by sobs.

Fenrir looked back at me one last time, his ice-blue eyes full of reluctance and resolve: "Wait for me."

Then he was surrounded by five tall werewolf warriors and forcibly dragged away.

I huddled in that tree hollow for an entire night, not daring to emerge until dawn. After that, I never saw him again.

Until eight years ago, when someone told me that Wolf King Fenrir had died in the battle for the throne.

"We're here."

Fenrir's cold voice interrupted my memories. I looked up, pupils dilating instantly.

Before us loomed a massive stone fortress, black walls towering into the clouds, emanating an aura of death in the moonlight. More shocking still were the hundreds of green lights glowing in the darkness—wolves' eyes.

"How many... how many werewolves are here?" My voice trembled.

Fenrir turned off the engine and got out, his voice as cold as death itself: "Enough to make you understand the consequences of resistance."

I stumbled out of the car, my legs barely able to support my weight. The fortress's scale far exceeded my imagination—this wasn't a hidden tribe, this was a kingdom.

A kingdom ruled by death and fear.

"This is where you wanted to bring me?" I looked around, voice filled with shock and terror.

"This is my kingdom," Fenrir corrected. "And now, it's your prison."

I suddenly turned to face him, sixteen years of emotion exploding in that moment:

"Where did that little wolf who shared bread with me and protected me go?" My voice choked. "Where is the boy who promised to be friends forever?"

Fenrir stopped and slowly turned around. In the moonlight, his face was as cold as a statue:

"He died in my first battle to reclaim the throne."

Each word pierced my heart like a blade.

"What stands before you now," Fenrir stepped closer, his voice low as death's proclamation, "is only the Alpha of Shadow Mountain."

I stepped back, tears finally spilling over: "You really are dead... that Fenrir really is dead..."

"Yes," he stopped in front of me, his ice-blue eyes devoid of warmth. "And you'd better forget him."

The fortress gates began to creak open slowly, emitting heavy metallic grinding sounds. Through the gap came weak firelight, and... countless waiting eyes.

I realized I truly couldn't go back.

The childhood Fenrir was dead, and I was about to enter a reality crueler than any nightmare.