How stunning Earth is, with its mesmerizing beauty.

Despite the efforts of explorers, the most apparent mysteries lie in the empty spaces surrounding us, not merely in the depths of space or the ocean.

Dianne, a resilient, exquisite, and talented young woman navigating life somewhere in Ontario.

Each morning, she gracefully jogged around the neighborhood, keeping her distance from Jack and his newly wedded wife.

She grappled with the perplexity of enduring a long-term relationship that once brimmed with love, only to hear the heart-wrenching words, "I'm in love with someone else."

The past three months had been her toughest yet, and at this moment, all she craved was to simply exist.

For Dianne ,solace was found solely in the familiar routines of home and work.

"Chris is hosting a house party tonight. You can't pretend you didn't know," said Mira, swiveling her chair towards Dianne's desk.

"I won't be attending," Dianne replied.

"Come on, what's the worst that could happen?" Mira pressed.

Dianne's response was raw with vulnerability, "I dread being drugged and assaulted."

Mira's concern was palpable, "Dianne,you're not truly living."

"I am," Dianne affirmed.

"I'm anxious for you," Mira confessed.

"I have no desire to attend any party," Dianne stated firmly.

"He's our colleague," Mira reminded her.

Dianne's voice softened, "A colleague with unwavering interest in me."

Mira's worry grew, "Everyone will be at his place by six. Are you willing to walk that desolate path home on your own, risking a dreadful outcome?"

Dianne's smile conveyed resolve, "I'll manage just fine."

"Alright then," Mira relented, returning to her tasks.

As the clock struck six, the office emptied swiftly. Chris seemed to be a well-liked figure, and a surprise awaited him that demanded punctuality.

Dianne wrapped up her tasks on the computer before preparing to depart.

Retrieving her flash drive, she gathered her belongings and rose.

The cold, blustery evening awaited outside, yet Dianne made it home safely.

Without even locking the door, she settled into her study chair, inserting the flash drive into her computer.

Hours slipped away, and past eight, a weary yawn escaped her lips. Stepping into the kitchen, she realized she was out of coffee.

Donning her winter jacket once more, she ventured out. The night sky greeted her with an abundance of stars and a radiant moon.

With hands nestled in her pockets, she treaded quietly towards her destination.

Meanwhile, hidden behind a distant mountain in the depths of the woods, lay a kingdom veiled in sorcery, imperceptible to mere mortals.

This concealed realm, camouflaged as a colossal rock within the city, was divided into ten lands, all under the rule of a single monarch.

In this kingdom, the ultimate decree stipulated that to ascend the throne, one must possess the strength to conquer death itself.

The belief system dictated that only a wolf could bear such responsibilities, hence one land held dominion over the others - the land of the beasts, the Wolverines.

"They say you have not been eating," a woman's voice resonated through the dimly lit room.

The windows stood wide open, with white and golden curtains parted to invite the cool breeze inside.

On the royal bed, a man lay, his form barely visible in the shadows, exuding an air of despondency.

"I wish to be left alone," the man responded wearily.

"Why?" the woman inquired sharply.

"Don't jest. My wife is gone!" the man retorted, his grief evident.

"Oh, spare me. Gwynnara was a decent woman, but you never truly desired her," the woman remarked, flicking a switch.

As the lights illuminated the room, her figure came into view.

She appeared to be a woman in her early thirties. Despite her beauty and lustrous hair, her stature set her apart in a crowd.

Perhaps this world lingered in an era of antiquity, but her flowing brown silk dress matched the elegance of her aura.

Resting upon her head was a golden crown, perfectly fitted for her regal visage.

Confidently, she strode towards him, unfazed by his misery.

"Though she may have been forced upon me as a wife, and my affections may not have matched her expectations, she was human and a friend," the man defended himself, rising from the bed, visibly distraught.

He appeared to be a handsome young man, inheriting his mother's height and striking eyes. He possessed good genes.

"If you seek sympathy, I have none to offer," she coolly responded.

"Your father requests your presence at the table. The elders await," she added.

"They will wait in vain," he retorted, pouring himself a drink from the golden jug on his table.

"You have a duty to your people," she reminded him.

"And I owe my late wife the respect of mourning," he shouted.

"Your father has commanded your presence at the table, by any means necessary. Consider this my leniency," she declared.

"Present yourself appropriately," she instructed before exiting the room.

The man strode toward a table encircled by nobles, where a well-built man dressed as a king sat at the head.

He was the king.

"At last, he emerges," one of the elders remarked.

"You behave like a bastard," the king addressed him.

"Pardon me for grieving my wife," the young man retorted.

"It has been three months!" the king bellowed, rising to his feet.

"Cease your lamentations and stop behaving like a petulant child!

Enemies plot day and night to seize this kingdom, and my son, the crowned prince of the Wolverines, mourns a woman who bore him no heirs!"

"You will not speak of her in such a manner," the young man countered.

The room brimmed with tension, words hanging heavy in the air.

"Did you ever touch her?" the queen's composed yet probing voice interjected.

"I cannot tolerate either of you," the young man replied, turning away.

"Or are you unable to perform?" the king inquired, his words laced with malice.

The young man halted his steps, his eyes blazing with anger as he slowly faced his father.

"If you were truly capable, I would not be your only son. Perhaps if we were two, we would not be having this conversation," he retorted before walking away.

"Fane Yael, crown prince to the throne of the Wolverines! If you walk out that door, you are not welcome back!" the king declared.

The tension in the room skyrocketed instantly.

"This is no longer a place for me," Fane declared, pausing as if contemplating his next move.

"Then I hereby banish you!" the king exclaimed, his voice filled with rage.

THUD!!!

Fane fell to the ground, the sound of hurried footsteps fleeing the scene startled him a bit.

As he looked up, the night sky filled with stars greeted him. To him, it felt like a sign, a confirmation of his decision.

He rose to his feet and realized he was in an unfamiliar location, quickly he got on his feet, seeing he was on a desolate road.

With a deep breath, he hastened his pace towards the next turn.

"Ouch!!"

He collided with someone, a woman - Dianne. She winced in pain, clutching her head.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his concern evident.