"Do every act of your life as though it were the very last act of your life."
― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
The world came back to her, and Lyra found herself in an unfamiliar room. She was alone, dressed in a fresh nightgown, laid out on a large feather bed.
"You're awake..."
Fenrir's voice crawled into her mind, the words sluggish and petulant. Lyra frowned.
"What happened?" She remembered throwing up, and then...
"I almost caught that annoying cat," Fen snarled. "Now look at me!"
Lyra turned her gaze inward, to the part of her mind that Fenrir called home. Huddled there, like a sodden lump, was a small wolf pup, a resplendent golden collar around its neck.
"Fen, is that you?" Lyra sent her inner self closer. "You're so tiny!"
"Hmmf," The pup snorted. "Of course, it's me, you dummy!" Fen stamped her fluffy paws. "That stupid knight forced this thing on me while we slept." She bared her dainty fangs, a wrathful face on an adorable body.
A vision, Brull's neck frozen before her eyes, forced its way into Lyra's muddled thoughts. I remember... She'd almost killed her friend... again. Why do you have to be so mean, Fen? She leaned back on her pillow, hands pressed into her eyes until stars danced under their lids.
"Who was that man?"
Lyra couldn't picture the man's appearance. In her memory, he was a solid wall of blinding yellow light. A figure cast from tarnished gold that easily did what she could not. He'd stuffed Fen back in her box and muted the wolf's hold on Lyra's mind. Even the hunger had faded to a dull ache.
"Pfff," Fen scratched herself behind the ear, her rear paw a hammer against the ground. "The King of Knights. He was still suckling on his mother's teat when I was killing gods for Oden..." She paused, face pinched as she dug deeper into her fur.
"But... he's much stronger than you..."
"Only because I'm not even one percent of what I used to be!" Fen gave her a sour look and curled up into a ball. "Once we've eaten enough, I'll show him why even true gods fear my name!"
"Hahahaha!"
The laugh boomed out and shocked Lyra back to the real world. As her gaze focused she found the door open, with the man in question now a step into the room.
"That wolf of yours has quite the spirit to her!" Arthur joked. "I almost couldn't get that collar on."
"Are you alright, Lyra?" Brull's head poked out from behind the plump knight. "You've been out for hours." The cat-kin's face held only concern. Lyra flinched.
"I'm so sorry, Brull!" Her ears drooped low, a mask for her eyes. "This is the second time I've almost hurt you!" She shrank in on herself, the blanket pulled over her chin.
"Actually, it's the second time you've almost killed me..."
Lyra squirmed at his words, her heart a river of shame. Even though she couldn't control Fenrir, she shared her thoughts. She remembered the sense of joy her companion felt when she was about to taste her prey.
"...but that's ok!" Brull smiled as he raised her head. "It's flattering to be pursued so passionately!" He placed a hand on his heart and fluttered his eyes.
"Pshht," Lyra choked, a laugh lodged in her throat. "Thanks, Brull..." She smiled at the relentless cat-kin. "You're a good friend."
"Friend..." Brull clutched his heart, as if pierced by an arrow. "You wound me!" He chuckled and returned her smile. "Just you wait, we'll become the best of friends."
Lyra flinched back from Brull's sharkish smile, and Arthur hooted in the background.
"Hahaha!" The knight scooped Brull up by his collar and gave him a shake. "A knight never makes a lady into a maiden in distress!" Arthur's loud voice filled the room, and Lyra squinted her eyes, ears pulled back. "Now come on you two, Aangor's waiting on us!"
The errant knight lifted Lyra by her scruff and tossed her over his shoulder. Brull joined her with a flick of Arthur's wrist. He carted them off through the warren of halls that formed Aangor's guild. The surroundings blurred with each step, and soon they stood before a shabby wooden door. Arthur raised his hand to knock-
"Come!"
Arthur strode into the room without pause. Within was a small, comfortable tavern. The wooden shelves behind the solid, thick bar were packed with booze. Lyra did a double take, eyes drawn behind the large ape who stood, a thick glass in hand.
One of the bottles was familiar. A stout, round, earthen jar. It was capped with wax that still held some honey and even from across the room she caught its scent. Sharp and acidic, but sweet like candy. A heady aftertaste of wildflowers in bloom.
"How is that possible..."
Both Aangor and Arthur glanced at her, then followed her gaze. The knight smiled and set the two down, while Aangor chuckled.
"The bar is a magic object all on its own," the ape explained. "It summons the favored drink of anyone who enters and adds it to the stock."
"That's the mead of my people," Lyra darted up to the bar and peered at the rustic bottle. "I haven't tasted it since..."
Her gaze lost focus as she fell silent. She'd drank some on the day of passage. The day she went from being a child to an adult. After that... She shivered. She rejected the memory and Fenrir growled from within her.
"Forget the past, little pup," Fen's voice soothed her nerves. "Focus on the glorious future!"
"That hideous wolf is right!" A cup landed before her and jolted Lyra from her thoughts. Aangor pushed the glass forward, under Lyra's nose, and smiled. "Master Ooulin built this place to give people a taste of home, not dredge up the painful past."
"Stop spying on me, filthy monkey!" Fen snarled as she retreated deeper into Lyra's mind. "Stay out of our head!" She roared and a glassy wall formed around Lyra's thoughts.
"Apologies," Aangor bowed his head. "But you are not to be trusted, Fenrir, Eater of the Skies."
"You know who Fen is?" Lyra turned to the ape, her drink forgotten. "She won't even tell me!" She'd always badgered Fenrir for details on her life, but she was always rebuffed. Lyra only knew that she had a terrible enemy, one that almost succeeded in destroying the ravenous wolf.
"Indeed," Aangor nodded, face serious. "Master Ooulin collected a vast trove of knowledge, and everything in the guild's library is known to me." He flicked a hand, and an image appeared in the air.
A baby wolf, still wet from birth, cuddled into the mighty arms of a giant. She guarded the pup as a thin man with red hair and green eyes defended them from an attacker. The enemy was old, with long white hair draped around his shoulders and a thick beard on his face. One eye was empty, but the other shone with a calculated intelligence.
Each strike from the old man's spear carried a rainbow of energy and pressed the younger man into a series of frenzied leaps. The giantess tried to help and her massive sword intercepted several attacks, but eventually, the two fell, brought to ruin by the old man's power. He scooped the wolf pup from the field and the image vanished.
"Child of Loki, hound of Odin, and betrayer of the gods." Aangor intoned, a touch of compassion in his eyes. "It was wise of you to hide on this world, where the gods are forbidden." He nudged Lyra's drink to encourage the wolf-kin to drink. "How did you worm your way past the seal?"
"I have my ways, monkey," Fen growled behind her walls. "And they betrayed me!" Her eyes turned red, and Lyra's followed suit. "They killed my parents and enslaved me, they deserved what they got!"
"Perhaps," Arthur interjected. "But what about all the innocents you killed to empower yourself?" He narrowed his eyes, and his hand drifted toward his sword. "Whole parallels lost, the fuel for your revenge."
"They were prey," Fen's eyes dimmed, more pink than red. "A predator does not feel pity for the lamb."
"A predator eats only enough to survive." Aangor's words made both Lyra and Fenrir flinch. "You gorged yourself, and even in victory you continued." He shook his head. "Even now, you would eat this girl's friends to satisfy your hunger for revenge."
Fenrir fell silent, curled in the shadows of Lyra's mind. The wolf-kin raised her glass and downed the fiery liquid in a single breath. Her face turned red, and she swayed in her seat.
"St...stop picking on Fen...Fenrir." She stammered, the strong drink already in full effect. "She...she saved me when no one else would."
"That may be so," Arthur relaxed his stance and his hand returned to his belt. "But you'll need to learn to control her." The portly knight took a seat beside her. "She's fused with your soul," His pale, blue eyes locked onto hers. "The stronger you get, the harder it will become."
"I know," Lyra hung her head. "It's already impossible, and I'm not even a Martial Master."
"That's why I'm going to have Arthur train you," Aangor rapped his knuckles on the bar. "The both of you." He turned to Brull, who was reaching behind the bar, his hand an inch away from an expensive bottle of whisky.
"Me?" The cat-kin pointed to himself, the targeted bottle already vanished into his pouch. "Why do I need to train?"
"Because," Aangor squinted and slapped away Brull's fingers, which sought another bottle. "She will need someone to help her if she loses control." He waved at Lyra, who'd passed out on the bar. "Plus she keeps trying to kill you, so you'll need to toughen up or die."
"But I..."
"Shut up and buck up!" Arthur smiled like a shark. "It's a knight's duty to protect his maiden, unless you plan on hiding behind her skirts until she eats you like a spider?"
The King of Knights scooped up his charges once more and nodded to Aangor. The ape waved him off and Arthur strode out of the tavern. Aangor's voice followed behind them, a warning to the befuddled cat-kin.
"Arthur takes honor very seriously, don't disappoint him, and maybe you'll finally manage to hold on to a girl."
Arthur's laughter drowned out anything else the ape may have said, and Brull resigned himself to his fate.
Maybe Aangor is right...