The cold mountain night pressed in, blacker and deeper than any city darkness Cael had ever known. The moon, nearly full, painted the world in sharp, icy blue. Old beeches and elms rose like pillars, their bare branches clawing at the stars.
But under the trees, there was only hunger, fear, and breathless waiting.
The wolves circled the fire, moving shadows with eyes that glinted in the flickering light. The lead wolf—massive, scarred, a notch torn from its ear—paced just outside the ring of flame, jaws slack. Its packmates slunk in the gloom, every step silent and careful. The air was thick with the stink of wet fur and something wild. Cael's hands shook as he clutched the battered shield, wishing it were bigger, wishing he was braver. Aylin crouched beside him, the little fire between them, her stick glowing red at the end.
Their breath hung in the air, quick and white. Cael's heart thudded, but through the rising panic, his father's words returned, hammering in his head: *Don't run. Stand tall. Shield high. Protect Aylin first. Make yourself big. Breathe. Think. Act.*
He planted his feet. "Aylin, get ready to run if I say. Only if I say." He tried to sound steady.
Aylin's eyes were wide, but she nodded, clutching the stick like a little spear. "Breathe. Think. Act," she whispered. Her voice was thin, but she made herself believe it—her mother's lessons holding her together as much as any shield.
The lead wolf growled, muscles rippling under its patchy fur. Then, with a snarl, it lunged from the dark.
Cael threw himself in front of Aylin, shield lifting. The wolf's weight slammed into him like a falling tree. Claws scraped, teeth clamped on battered iron. Cael staggered, boots skidding on leaves, but the shield held. He shoved back, roaring, his voice raw with fear and something hotter beneath.
The wolf snapped again—testing, not yet all in. Two others darted in near the edges of the fire, looking for an opening.
Aylin's mind raced. She grabbed a fistful of moss from the fire's edge, flinging embered clumps at a wolf's face. Sparks flared; it yelped and sprang back, eyes watering. Another wolf circled, eyes locked on her, tail low and twitching.
Cael's arms burned. His body wanted to run, but his feet rooted deeper. He remembered the hospital bed, the helpless years, and then—this body, this moment. *I will not break.*
Again, the lead wolf lunged, teeth clamping the shield's rim and wrenching it sideways. Pain stabbed through Cael's shoulder. In the chaos, another wolf darted at Aylin. She shrieked, swinging her burning stick, the flame close enough to singe her hair.
*"Aylin!"* Cael shouted, but she was already moving—dodging, remembering her mother's voice: *Never corner yourself. Always keep an exit.* She darted left, then right, feinting, her small body a blur of desperate speed.
The wolves pressed harder, fire shrinking as the circle closed. The lead wolf slammed into Cael again. He stumbled, nearly falling. For a heartbeat, time slowed. He saw Aylin's terrified face, the jaws closing behind her.
Rage, bright as steel, burst in Cael's chest. *Not this time. Not her. Not now.*
Something cold and deep pulsed inside him, older than fear. The world narrowed to the shield, his sister, and the breath in his lungs. A shimmer flickered at the edge of vision—a whisper in the dark.
---
Skill gained **Iron Stand**
When you stand between harm and what you must protect, something in you hardens. Fear and pain slide away. For a moment, you are as steady as the mountain—unmoving, unbreakable.
---
Everything sharpened. The stings, the screams, the snapping jaws all fell away to background noise. Cael braced the shield, feet planted deep, and roared—half sob, half challenge—charging not away, but into the lead wolf's attack.
The wolf crashed into him, but Cael did not move. Shield and body became one, as unyielding as stone. Claws raked his arm, but he hardly registered it. In that instant, he was more than a frightened boy. He was the wall, the forge, the iron that would not shatter.
"Aylin, under me!" he yelled.
Aylin trusted him. She dove between his legs and rolled to the other side of the fire. She snatched a burning branch and flung it at the nearest wolf. Embers burst, crackling across the leaves. The wolves hesitated—hunger battling fear.
The lead wolf lunged a third time. Cael drove his shoulder forward, shield smashing into snout. Something cracked—bone or wood, he couldn't tell. The wolf tumbled back, dazed, as the others circled, looking for any weakness.
Breathless, Aylin remembered another lesson: *Distraction saves lives.* She whistled, shrill and sharp, and scattered burning moss at the edge of the pack. Two wolves spooked, dashing away from the sudden flare.
The pack faltered.
But a yearling, reckless and hungry, darted in, jaws snapping for Aylin's leg.
Time froze.
All the nights in the smithy, all the slow work and stubborn patience, all the iron forged into Cael's will became one sharp edge. He pivoted, shield first, and slammed it down between Aylin and the wolf. Pain shot up his arm, but the animal yelped and limped away.
The lead wolf, battered and bleeding, finally backed off. Its eyes were wary now, its confidence shaken by the children's fire and fury. With a last glare, it slunk into the brush, the rest of the pack melting away after their alpha, tails low.
Only the crackle of dying fire remained, and the rasp of Cael's breath breaking the sudden silence. Iron Stand faded, and pain rushed in—a dull throb in his shoulder, a sharp sting on his leg.
For a long moment, Cael and Aylin just clung to each other, too stunned to speak. Their hearts beat wild and shaky, terror slowly giving way to relief and disbelief.
Aylin moved first. She checked his wounds with steady, gentle hands. "You're bleeding. Here, let me—" She tore a strip from her sleeve and tied it around the worst cut.
Cael winced but managed a smile. "Thank you. You didn't freeze, Aylin. You were—so smart. Brave."
She grinned, though tears welled up. "You didn't break. I knew you wouldn't." She hugged him, burying her face in his chest.
He stroked her hair, exhaustion heavy in his bones. "I'm so proud of you. Mom and Dad would be, too."
They sat together until the moon was high and the woods went eerily quiet. The fire died to embers, but neither dared sleep.
Later, as dawn's chill crept into the woods, they gathered their battered gear and limped onward—leaving behind tears, blood, the scorched earth, and a story of survival.
***
They climbed the slope, following faint animal tracks and the river's curve. Hunger and fatigue made every step an effort. The world felt bigger, colder, every rustle in the brush setting their nerves on edge, but the wolves did not return.
High above, the first rays of sunlight touched the mountain. The trees thinned, the air grew sharper.
Aylin spotted it first. "Look, Cael—what's that?" She pointed to a faint shimmer between two ancient stones.
They approached slowly, wary. At first, it looked like nothing—just a flicker, like heat haze above a summer road. When Cael reached out, his fingers tingled, meeting invisible resistance.
He pressed harder. The air pushed back, firm as glass but yielding like water. An icy shock jolted his arm and he stumbled back.
Aylin stared, wonder in her eyes. "It's a barrier. Like in Mom's stories—the kind cultivators use to keep evil out. Or keep secrets in."
They traced its edge, watching the shimmer ripple in golden light. The mountainside beyond was untouched, wildflowers and green grass growing too lush for late autumn. The air inside hummed with energy, and Cael felt the faintest echo of iron in his chest.
"Did Mom do this?" Aylin whispered.
Cael shook his head, but a thrill ran through him. "Maybe. Or maybe it's something she left behind."
They circled the barrier until they found a hollow in the rocks where the shimmer thinned, pulsing with slow, steady light. The world beyond called—a mystery, a promise, a danger waiting to be faced.
They rested there, pondering the secret that shielded their home. In Cael's weary heart, hope bloomed again. The world was more dangerous and wondrous than he'd ever known. But with Aylin at his side, and his parents' lessons burning in his blood, he was ready to face whatever came next.
A wind swept down the mountain, stirring the grass beyond the barrier. For the first time since the fire, Cael felt the future crack open—dangerous, yes, but brimming with possibility.
They would cross the barrier. They would search for the truth of their family, their village, and their own strength. But for now, they rested in the mountain's shadow, hearts pounding, the taste of survival still sharp and bright on their tongues.
And above them, the barrier shimmered—watchful, waiting, alive.