Dawn broke pale and cold, light spilling across Blackwood's trees.
Aiden's body ached from the previous night's fight with the Shadowfang boar. His bandages were stained, his arms sore from the splintered wooden sword he still clutched. But there was no regret in his movements as he crouched over the beast's corpse.
The smell of iron filled the air. Blood seeped into the soil.
Aiden pressed his hand to the monster's cooling body. He didn't know why, but the act always triggered the faint stir of something ancient inside him. A hunger. A fire.
For a moment, the veins in his arm darkened, threads of shadow crawling beneath his skin as if the beast's essence seeped into him. His breath hitched, and his chest burned with power — wild, dangerous, barely his own.
Then he pulled back.
The forest was silent again.
---
By the time he dragged the carcass to the village, the sun was high. Hunters at the gates paused, eyes widening as they saw the tusks, the beast's size.
"That's a Rank 2 Shadowfang boar."
"He killed it… with a practice sword?"
"Impossible…"
Their disbelief was a sharp weight pressing against him. Aiden kept his head down, saying nothing as he pulled the carcass past them. He could feel Bran's gaze on him — sharp, heavy, unreadable.
At the square, the villagers gathered. Some looked at him with awe, others with suspicion. A few with fear.
Elara pushed through the crowd, rushing to his side. "You're bleeding again—!"
"I'm fine," Aiden muttered. His voice was hoarse, but steady.
"You're not fine," she snapped, glaring at the wounds reopening beneath his shirt. But the anger in her eyes quickly melted into something softer — something she tried to hide. "You're going to kill yourself if you keep this up…"
Aiden didn't respond. He couldn't.
Because deep inside, he already knew she was right.
---
That night, sleep didn't come easily.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw them — golden eyes, snarling teeth, claws dripping red. The Alpha wolf. The shadow of something darker still, whispering from beneath the earth.
When he finally drifted into slumber, the dreams turned vivid.
A dark cavern. Chains rattling in the distance. A voice — deep, ancient, resonant.
Devour…
Aiden jolted awake, his body drenched in sweat, his breath ragged. The whisper lingered in his ears even as the moonlight spilled across his bed.
He pressed a trembling hand to his chest.
"…What am I becoming?"
---
Days turned into weeks.
Each morning, Aiden rose before the hunters, slipping into the forest. He no longer feared the silence of the trees. The rustle of leaves, the sudden growls, the shadows between the trunks — they were his new companions.
He hunted Rank 2 beasts, then pressed into territories where Rank 3 lurked.
His body bore the proof of every fight: cuts, bruises, scars. Yet with each wound came strength. His reflexes sharpened. His strikes grew more precise. He learned when to dodge, when to endure, when to let instinct take over.
The whispers still stirred, but he began to recognize them — to ride the wave instead of drowning in it. The power came in flashes, fleeting and dangerous, but enough to tip battles in his favor.
He killed Shadowfang wolves, horned lizards, venom-spitting serpents. With every victory, the hunger in him grew.
---
But the village was not blind.
Hunters whispered of his solitary hunts. Villagers noted the carcasses he dragged back — creatures no normal boy should be able to kill. Children stared with wide eyes, and elders muttered about omens.
One evening, as Aiden returned from another hunt, Bran stood waiting at the gates. His arms were crossed, his face grim.
"You're reckless," Bran said. His voice carried the weight of authority. "The forest isn't a playground. You think killing beasts makes you strong, but strength without control is a curse."
Aiden met his gaze. "Then I'll learn control."
Bran's eyes narrowed. For a moment, silence stretched between them, heavy as stone. Then the captain turned away.
"…I'll be watching you," he muttered.
---
That night, the forest was not silent.
Aiden ventured deeper than before, the moonlight thin through the thick canopy. His steps were careful, his senses sharp.
Then, a howl split the air. Low. Resonant.
The trees trembled. Birds scattered. The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
From the shadows, a wolf stepped forth — larger than the others, its fur a mix of black and silver, its eyes glowing with malevolent light.
A Rank 3 Moonfang Wolf.
Its growl rolled like thunder, sending shivers down Aiden's spine.
He tightened his grip on his blade. His chest burned, the whispers already clawing at the edges of his mind.
"…Perfect."
The beast lunged.
---
The fight was chaos.
The wolf's claws ripped through the ground, sparks flying as its teeth snapped inches from Aiden's throat. He rolled, his ribs aching, countered with a slash that barely grazed its flank.
The wolf's speed was unnatural, its strength brutal. Each strike forced Aiden back, his body pushed to its limits.
Blood filled his mouth, the taste of iron sharp on his tongue.
Not enough. Not enough.
The whispers surged, louder than ever.
Devour… or be devoured.
Aiden's vision sharpened, his muscles coiling with borrowed power. He ducked beneath a swipe, drove his blade upward, and buried it into the wolf's throat.
The beast thrashed violently, blood spraying across the trees, before collapsing with a final, gurgling growl.
Aiden staggered, gasping, his body trembling as the whispers receded. His hands shook, his veins still dark with lingering traces of power.
The Moonfang lay silent at his feet.
For the first time, Aiden realized just how far into the forest he'd gone. The trees here were ancient, the silence too deep, too heavy.
And beneath that silence… something else stirred.
Something older. Something sealed.
The ground beneath his feet thrummed faintly, like a heartbeat.
Aiden froze. His breath caught.
Then, slowly, a smile tugged at his lips.
"…I'll come back."
---
Far away, unseen eyes watched.
"The seal is weakening," the cloaked woman murmured. "The boy is drawing closer to it."
Her companion's gaze lingered on the distant treeline. "Then we'll see if fate devours him first."
The forest rustled, carrying whispers no human should ever hear.
---