Kára wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. The ritual had left her pale, with deep shadows under her violet eyes. But her voice remained steady.
"The Awakening doesn't end until the bearer grips the weapon and is accepted. If the bond fails... the weapon goes back to sleep. Forever."
She looked at Varkas.
"You first. Your sword has the simplest hunger. The most direct."
Varkas nodded. Without hesitating, he stepped toward the table where the three blades rested.
His pulsed with a reddish aura, like a newborn heart. The dark metal reflected the forge light with an almost liquid gleam. Varkas closed his hand around the hilt.
The world faded.
---
Varkas was no longer in the forge.
The air smelled of dry earth, of distant storm, of something wild. A sky red as old blood stretched above him, without clouds, without sun. Only a crimson radiance that tinted everything in an unreal tone.
Beneath his feet, an infinite savanna. Tall, yellowed grass swaying in a hot wind. No birds. No insects. Only the whisper of the grass and the beat of his own heart.
Varkas clenched his fists. He was unarmed. His sword had not accompanied him to this place. There were only his hands, his muscles, his instinct.
And then, he felt it.
A presence. Something watching him from the tall grass. He couldn't see it, but he knew. His skin prickled. His slightly pointed ears caught a sound almost imperceptible.
A growl.
Deep. Low. It didn't come from a fixed point. It vibrated in the air, in the ground, in his bones.
The grass before him parted.
It was a wolf.
But not a normal wolf. It was a colossal beast, twice his size. Fur black as charcoal, thick, almost like solid shadow. Its eyes were red as embers, without pupils, glowing with their own light. From its jaws escaped a hot vapor, as if its breath were liquid fire.
Its tail, long and thick, moved slowly behind it. The tip was an intense crimson red, as if it had just made a kill, as if it were stained with fresh blood.
Varkas recognized it.
Not with his mind. With something deeper. Something he had buried during ten years of chains. Ten years of cages. Ten years forgetting who he was.
It was his instinct. What he had let die in order to survive.
The wolf tilted its enormous head. Its red eyes pierced him.
"HUNGER."
It wasn't a word. It was a roar that Varkas understood. A pure concept. A declaration.
Varkas didn't step back.
"I am Varkas. Of the Iron Claw Tribe."
The wolf snorted. Hot vapor escaped from its jaws.
"TRIBE... DOESN'T MATTER. ONLY HUNGER MATTERS. DO YOU HAVE HUNGER, FORGOTTEN WOLF?"
Varkas clenched his fists. Ten years of chains. Ten years of contained rage. Ten years of hunger.
"Yes."
The wolf didn't wait.
It launched itself at him like an avalanche of muscle and fangs. Varkas rolled to the side. The claw grazed his shoulder. The pain was real. The blood too. Varkas felt the warm liquid slide down his arm, soaking the fur of his forearm. The smell of iron woke something in his stomach. A knot. An old hunger. The wolf was right. Blood fed.
The wolf turned with an agility impossible for its size. Its tail, that crimson tip like fresh blood, struck Varkas in the chest. He was sent flying. He fell on his back. The air left him.
The beast approached. It didn't finish him. It waited.
"DO YOU FALL?"
Varkas got up. He spat blood that didn't exist, but hurt the same.
"No."
The wolf snorted. Hot vapor escaped from its jaws.
"BLOOD FEEDS. HUNGER GROWS. DO YOU FEEL IT?"
Varkas didn't respond. He just clenched his fists.
The wolf charged again. Varkas tried to block with his forearms. The impact was brutal. He felt his bones crack. He flew several meters. He fell to his knees. Breathing was hard.
"DO YOU SURRENDER?"
He got up. Slower. His legs trembled.
"Never."
The wolf roared. A sound that made the entire savanna vibrate. It leaped onto Varkas and pinned him to the ground. Its claws circled his throat. They didn't squeeze, but the threat was clear. The beast's snout was centimeters from his face. Its hot breath smelled of earth, of blood, of storm.
"WHY? WHY DO YOU GET UP, WOLF WITHOUT A PACK?"
"THE BLOOD SPILLED... IS NOT YOURS. IT IS YOUR PACK'S. THE ONE YOU COULDN'T PROTECT."
Varkas felt the weight of those ten years on his shoulders. It wasn't the wolf crushing him. It was the chains. The shackles. The cages. The forgetting of his own scent. His body remembered even though his mind had tried to bury it.
Varkas closed his eyes.
He saw Naisha smiling. He saw Tarik and Torin running through the village. He heard their laughter.
Then, ten years of cages. The whip. The hunger. The forgetting of who he was.
He had forgotten he was a wolf.
He opened his eyes. There was no longer fear. There was hunger. But not to kill. Hunger to protect.
"Because I found a new pack! I have someone to protect! I WILL NOT FALL!"
The wolf went very still.
It withdrew its claws slowly. It stepped back. It tilted its enormous head. Its red eyes were no longer only hunger. There was respect.
"FORGOTTEN WOLF... YOU HAVE REMEMBERED. NOT THE HUNGER FOR BLOOD. THE HUNGER FOR PACK. THE HUNGER TO PROTECT."
The wolf raised its snout to the red sky and let out a howl. A sound that made the entire savanna vibrate. Then, it lowered its head and looked directly at Varkas.
"I AM YOUR INSTINCT. WHAT YOU BURIED TO SURVIVE. WHAT NEVER DIED, ONLY WAITED."
It paused.
"MY NAME... IS RAKSHAR. THE WILD PROTECTOR. THE WOLF THAT GUARDS THE PACK. WHEN YOUR BLOOD BURNS... WHEN INSTINCT SCREAMS... I WILL HOWL WITH YOU."
The savanna began to fade. The grass turned translucent. The red sky dissolved into shreds of light.
The black wolf with red eyes and crimson tail faded into threads of light that flowed into Varkas's chest.
"RISE, WOLF. AND PROTECT YOUR PACK."
---
Varkas opened his eyes.
The forge's heat hit his skin. He blinked. Sweat ran down his temple. His breathing was ragged, as if he had truly been fighting. He brought a hand to his chest. His heart was pounding wildly. But beneath it... something more. A second pulse. Hot. Hungry. Alive.
His hand still gripped the sword's hilt. The weapon's reddish aura now pulsed in rhythm with his own heartbeat.
He tightened his fist. Something new pulsed within him. A second heart. A crouching wolf.
His yellow eyes gleamed for an instant with a reddish reflection. Then, they returned to normal.
"Rakshar."
The sword vibrated. A deep hum. A distant howl for him alone.
Kára watched him with wide open eyes.
"It accepted you."
Varkas nodded. He released the sword slowly and set it on the table. The aura kept pulsing, but now it was part of him.
Darian stepped forward. He looked at his two swords. The long one and the short one. Both glowed with their own auras. A white, serene light. A thick, dark mist.
"My turn."
Kára stopped him with a gesture.
"Darian... you're going to take both at once. That has no precedent. If something goes wrong..."
Darian had already extended both hands.