The road to the world tree was annoying. The forest moaned with silver breath. Each tree shimmered, as if they were soaked in ox-blood; A bloodmoon. And every step I took felt heavier—like I was walking through old magik, thick as syrup. The moon had risen.

Lucien said nothing. He walked ahead, with his grey coat drifting aross all the bramble. He hadn’t looked back once.

My legs buckled, but I caught myself. I did not want any pity. Then that tingling in my fingers returned—my claws threatening to emerge, not fully, just enough to itch beneath the skin. A whisper rose under my bones all in resonance to the blood moon.

I hated it.

Hated that part of myself that wanted to lose control.

“How long do we have until this gets worse?” I rasped, breath shallow.

Lucien slowed but didn’t stop. “Depends.”

“Depends on what? The moon? Me?”

He turned just enough for the light to catch his eyes—they were crescents, a privilege of his tribe being direct descendants of Màni. “Depends on how long you can pretend you’re not changing.”

I wanted to slap him. Or myself. Or the moon. Anything to stop this ache.

“This didn’t happen before,” I muttered. “Not like this.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s because before, you were caged. Bound by clan rules and your fathers cautions. Kept tame. Now?” His voice dipped. “Now your blood remembers what it is. And who you are. Plus, you have me beside you. And I being a direct descendant of Màni, my blood resonantes with yours.”

He walked towards me and grabbed my hand. Gooseflesh ran across my body. A scream clawed at my throat. “You keep talking like you know me.”

“I know what you are,” he said, softer than before.

We reached a clearing—a dead field of scorched roots and bone-pale grass. A crescent-shaped pool lay in the center, still as glass. The moon rippled in the reflection of the pool.

“We are getting closer to the Yggdrasil, now we have get a clear picture of how we want to leave there as soon as possible or Ratatosk will have our furs for dinner.”

I couldn’t respond to him. I dropped to my knees, breath hitching as my bones twisted beneath my skin—not a full shift, but close. Pain blurred my vison like fire. I crawled to the water’s edge and stared down.

My reflection stared back—blue eyes like frost, lips cracked, the small etchings of the runes around my hairline glowing faintly. But it wasn’t just me. Something old and monstrous moved beneath the surface.

Then I heard it—whispered like breath across a blade:

“Daughter of Fenris. Moon-marked and blood-stained.”

I recoiled. My heart kicked. “Did you hear that?” I hissed.

Lucien didn’t answer.

“I said—”

But he wasn’t beside me anymore. He stood at the far edge of the clearing, sword drawn, eyes locked on the trees.

Then I heard it too.

A howl.

Not like the Hatisynir. This was different—deeper. Sadder. It vibrated through the earth, through my ribs, into the crescent mark on my back and the runes on my hairline.

Lucien’s voice was low, alert. “We’re being watched.”

The air coiled, heavy with pressure. Something in the sky was waiting to strike.

I wanted to ask why here? why now?—but the answer throbbed in my bones. The mark and all the runes burned hotter. Something was stirring in me, something ancient.

I tried to move away from the pool, but it was too late.

A sharp pulse hit me—not physical, but memory-like and I felt like I was being pulled into the pool.

Suddenly I wasn’t in the forest anymore.

I stood on a battlefield made of ash and ruin.

Silver wolves. A black sky. Blood moons that looked like they were raining fire.

And at the center of it all—a colossal wolf, chained, its eyes endless.

Its mouth gaping in eternal hunger.

Fenris.

I screamed. The image shattered. I gasped, awake again.

Lucien was at my side in an instant. “What did you see?”

I shook my head, trembling. “Nothing I understand.”

He studied me, then spoke as if confessing something fragile:

“That place… used to be sacred. Before the blood eclipse. Before the celestial tribes fell and are now scattered across the nine realms.”

“Your tribe,” I whispered. “This was your land.”

He didn’t deny it.

And suddenly, a terrible realization wrapped cold fingers around my neck.

This journey wasn’t just about me running from my past.

Lucien was doing the same.

The only difference?

His past was long dead.

Mine was just catching up with me at the speed I could not keep up with.