Blizzard stood in the heart of what once was Shadow Pack's center, spinning around, his body tight with shock. It was so silent that it felt like a heavy weight on him. There were no sounds of voices. No sounds of paws moving. No sounds of kids laughing while running where they practiced. It was only still, a strange, scary quiet. The people in his pack were frozen without moving, their bodies hard like old statues made of real flesh. Their eyes were wide, surprised, confused, and scared, stuck at the exact moment when time had stopped for them.
He went closer to the nearest person, a young fighter he knew right away. It was Roran. He always wanted to fight Blizzard in practice, always laughed really loud, and was always moving around. Now he was standing still, with frost all over his eyelashes as if the world had stopped him from breathing. Blizzard swallowed hard and raised a shaky hand, stopping before he touched Roran's shoulder. It was freezing, too cold. Whatever had happened here had taken away warmth, movement, and life itself.
"What happened to all of you?" Blizzard asked quietly, his voice cracking. He breathed out in quick, small puffs. The air smelled like frozen ground and magic, old magic. Magic that was dangerous and unsafe.
Shadow Pack had always been different from other packs. They lived far away in the northern mountains, guarding an old secret that was older than any Alpha alive: the vrytin core under their land. Blizzard grew up hearing stories about the vrytin's power, how it could change energy, time, and even memories. But it had always been quiet and safe, just a story to scare kids into behaving well. At least, that's what he believed until now.
Blizzard made himself move forward. He needed to figure out what had happened. Just standing here in shock wouldn't save his people. He walked around the pack's land, each step making a sound in the empty quiet. Everywhere he went had someone frozen in the middle of what they were doing, an old person reaching for a pot, a mom protecting her kid, fighters in the middle of talking. It was like a massacre without blood, a sad event shown in stillness instead of injuries.
He thought quickly as he remembered what the pack was normally like, the sound of drums during parties, the smell of cooked meat coming from the fires where everyone ate together, kids playing while the old people pretended not to watch with pride. Blizzard had missed all of it while traveling, learning about different wolf ways. He had smelled so many smells from other places, met so many wolves, and seen so many places. But nothing was like home. And now his home was stuck in a scary dream he didn't understand.
"What could be the reason for this?" he said softly, holding his coat closed. His breathing sped up as his worry increased. He made himself keep walking, searching the pack's area for any sign, any hint, that explained why everything had stopped.
He felt like many hours passed as he checked each house, each practice space, and each sacred spot. He felt upset each time he found another pack member lost in time. The weight of being in charge felt heavy on him. Blizzard always understood he held the Shadow Pack's future, but he never imagined he would return home to see that future frozen.
Eventually, after what seemed like a long time, he got to the oldest place, the sacred open area. Even before going inside, Blizzard felt that the air was different. Something tugged at his wolf spirit. A weakness went through his body, slight at first, then strong and clear. He almost fell, grabbing a tree to keep himself steady.
No. He knew what it was.
Vrytin.
His heart hurt with a jump. "No… not here… not now." Vrytin events were rare, almost like legends. People said they could twist time and change the world around them. If one happened under Shadow Pack…
It made everything clear.
Blizzard moved forward, fighting the weakness. The ground below him sent out a weak beat of strange power, a deep hum he felt in his bones instead of hearing with his ears. He knelt slowly, putting his hand on the ground. It was warm, too warm, like something alive was cooking underneath. He gasped. The event must have gone through the middle, sending out a wave strong enough to freeze time around the pack.
But the stories also spoke of something else, something he hoped wasn't true.
Once frozen, those trapped could stay that way forever unless someone could stop the surge.
Blizzard tightened his jaw. He would not allow that to happen. He could not. These were his people, his family. The wolves who taught him, cared for him, and trusted him. He would not leave them to a fate like this. There had to be a way, something he could do, some small bit of hope hidden in the old stories.
"I'll find a way," he said quietly but firmly. "Even if I have to break this mountain apart with my own hands… I will save all of you."
His strong will felt like fire in his chest. He stood up and wiped the sweat off his face. He had to find the center of the event. Maybe the answer was in the core itself.
He took a step forward, then stopped.
A sound broke the quiet, sharp and quick.
A twig snapped.
Blizzard became worried. His heart beat faster. That sound did not fit in the frozen world around him. It was movement, real movement. Someone else was here.
He turned at a measured pace, his awareness heightened. Sounds of steps came after the break, quick, insistent, closing in on him from the back. The person walking had direction, not caution. Blizzard's deepest feelings came alive, his wolf nature growing within him.
He shifted to a prepared stance, his gaze focused. "Is anyone there?"
Silence remained.
Only the nearing footsteps becoming louder, more distinct, and certainly present.
Blizzard took even breaths, his body prepared. The thing approaching was not still. It was not held in place.
And it was not kind.
He spun around right as the figure leaped from the darkness near him.