Run.
Run.
Run.
The word echoes relentlessly in my mind as I sprint barefoot through the snow. My feet are stained with blood and dirt, each step aching, but I push forward. My heartbeat pounds in my chest, growing louder with every second. I can hear the howls of the wolves—werewolves—dancing with the icy wind. I glance back, just for a moment, only to trip and crash hard onto the frozen ground.
Run.
Run.
Run.
I have to run. I can't stop now. Above me, the cloudy sky is thick with black smoke, billowing from my burning village. The scent of destruction and ash fills the air. The screams of my people mingle with the haunting howls, carried by the wind. I force myself to stand. The cold doesn't matter—it never has. The only thought burning in my mind is to run. Run as fast as I can. "Run," my father had said. "Run," my mother had pleaded.
And so I do.
I keep running, but then I hear it—another distant howl. They've found me. My heart skips a beat as a black werewolf steps into my path, its eyes locked on me with a predatory stare, deadly and cold. I try to turn and run the other way, but another black werewolf blocks my escape, trapping me. I'm surrounded.
"Mom, Dad," I whisper, barely able to breathe, hoping somehow they'll appear and save me.
"This one is just a child," a third voice growls. From behind the trees, a white werewolf emerges, its fur gleaming against the snow like a ghost.
"No witches, no warlocks must live," snarls the first black werewolf, its predatory eyes fixed on me.
"If we let her live, one day she'll come for us," the other black werewolf replies. They circle me, their massive bodies blocking any chance of escape.
The three of them hesitate, exchanging glances. The black werewolf's eyes narrow. "She's young... helpless. But witches grow strong. We kill her now, we end the threat."
The white werewolf growls low. "You think a pup like this can survive without her pack? She might die on her own. Maybe we let her go and watch her fall."
"No," the first one snaps, baring its teeth. "A witch's bloodline is dangerous. She could grow into something far more deadly. We finish it now before she becomes a problem."
Their voices rumble through the cold air. My body trembles, but it's not from the cold. I stand frozen, knowing they are deciding my fate, their deadly gazes never leaving me.
The black werewolf lunges at me, its claws gleaming in the faint light, sharp enough to tear through flesh. I brace for the impact, but the cold bites into me first—deep, bone-chilling cold. I'm already freezing, but now I feel as though I've been swallowed by the ice itself.
Mom... Dad...
Their names whisper through my mind like a plea, but no one comes. Just the howls and snarls of the wolves surrounding me. Suddenly, a force ripples through the air, strange and powerful. It slams into the werewolves, hurling them backward with an invisible strength that leaves them crashing into the snow. Their massive bodies skid across the frozen ground, but strangely, the force doesn't touch me. I'm left untouched, standing there as if protected by something unseen.
The power... I can feel it. It's coming from my village. It's something ancient, something fierce.
My knees buckle, and I collapse into the snow, gasping for breath. My heart pounds in my chest, and my skin is numb from the icy air. I can barely move, yet I watch as the three werewolves slowly rise. Their growls rumble low, filled with anger and confusion, their predatory eyes darting around for the source of the power that knocked them down.
The black werewolf shakes its head, snow flying from its fur, and bares its teeth. The white one, towering like a ghost, narrows its eyes, its ears twitching as if trying to sense the magic that saved me.
"What was that?" one of them growls, their voices heavy with rage and fear.
"Magic," the white werewolf growls.
"The Zurks Covenant is here. I can smell them," the black werewolf snarls, its nose twitching as it scents the air. Fear and anger flicker in its predatory eyes.
"Kill the child, now," the black werewolf commands, its gaze locking onto me. Without hesitation, it charges forward, claws outstretched, ready to strike me down.
But just as the werewolf leaps, an icy arrow pierces through its chest, striking its heart. It lets out a choked growl, collapsing onto the snow in a lifeless heap. Blood pools around its fur, a stark contrast to the pale snow. The remaining two werewolves freeze in shock, their snarls faltering as they register the sudden attack.
Suddenly, the sky darkens, and a storm of blades—gleaming shards of ice—rains down from above. The two werewolves dart in different directions, their speed unmatched as they narrowly avoid the lethal barrage. They move with terrifying agility, their sharp senses guiding them as they twist and leap to evade the ice falling from the heavens.
But even their strength and speed have limits. One shard catches the white werewolf across the side of its face, slicing deep into its flesh. Blood sprays into the air, staining its once pristine white coat a vivid red. The beast lets out a roar of pain, its wounded eye glinting with rage as it stumbles, but doesn't fall.
"Fuck…" the white werewolf cursed through gritted teeth. It didn't stop there. Crystals of ice began forming on the wound, spreading across its face. It whimpered in agony, shaking its head violently, trying to rid itself of the frost, but the icy growth only spread faster.
The black werewolf, realizing they were outmatched, let out a piercing howl that echoed through the forest. "We need to go!" it snarled, urging the white werewolf to retreat. Together, they turned and ran, their massive bodies disappearing into the cover of the snow-laden trees. The silence that followed was chilling, save for my own ragged breathing.
My vision blurred, and dizziness hit me hard. I swayed, my knees about to give way when I felt strong arms lift me off the ground. I blinked, trying to focus, and looked up at the figure holding me.
"You're safe now, child," said a deep, gravelly voice. I looked at him—a large, brute of a man with a thick mustache and broad shoulders. His blue eyes, though rough, held a strange warmth. He cradled me carefully, as though I weighed nothing at all. His massive frame dwarfed everything around him, and the cold didn't seem to touch him.
"Thalia!" he called out. From the snow-covered woods, another figure emerged, draped in a white cloak that blended seamlessly with the landscape.
The woman, pale-skinned with striking blue eyes, black hair cascading down her back, and lips as red as blood, approached us.
"She's hurt," Thalia said. Her eyes scanned me, assessing the damage. She raised her hands, and with a subtle gesture, the air around us seemed to shift. The snow around her hands swirled and gathered, transforming before my eyes. The powdery flakes turned to shimmering liquid, floating in mid-air. I had never seen magic like this before. Mom and Dad used to tell me stories about how each element could be manipulated, how snow could become water, how water could turn to ice, and how those elements could be forged into magic.
Thalia's magic felt… ancient. The way the liquid responded to her movements, flowing and bending, was mesmerizing. I stared, weak but unable to look away.
"Are you a witch?" I asked, my voice small and trembling.
Thalia looked down at me with a gentle smile, her blue eyes soft. "I am," she said warmly, "and so are you."
She knelt beside me, cupping the liquid magic in her hands before placing it carefully on my feet. The warmth spread instantly, chasing away the cold that had gripped my body. I shuddered with relief as the heat washed over me, reviving my frozen limbs.
"This magic won't last long," she said, her tone turning serious. "We need to get you somewhere warmer."
The brute man hoisted me gently into his arms again, and we began to walk back toward the village. As we approached, the acrid smell of smoke filled the air, stinging my nose. I looked up to see thick black smoke rising from the remains of burning houses, the village once full of life, was now reduced to charred ruins.
Bodies littered the ground—my neighbors, my friends, even the werewolves. Their lifeless forms were scattered across the snow, frozen in death. The once peaceful village was now a graveyard. My chest tightened, tears burning behind my eyes, but I couldn't cry. There was nothing left in me but numbness.
Not far ahead, I saw them—five cloaked figures standing still amidst the ruins. My heart raced. I tugged on the brute man's arm, signaling him to let me down. He hesitated but gently set me on the ground. Without a second thought, I ran—ran as fast as my legs would carry me, straight to my house.
"Mom! Dad!" I screamed, my voice breaking as I pushed open the shattered door. The inside of our home was cold, and silent. My eyes darted around the familiar room, hoping—praying—they would be there.
But then I saw them.
They were lying on the ground, still and lifeless. My chest clenched, a wave of disbelief washing over me. I couldn't breathe. My feet moved slowly toward them, though my mind screamed for me to stop. "No… no, no, no," I whispered, shaking my head.
Tears blurred my vision as I fell to my knees beside them. My hands trembled as I reached out, touching my mother's cold hand. Her eyes were closed, but her body… unmoving. My father lay beside her, his face stained with blood, his arms wrapped around her as if trying to protect her, even in death.
"Mom… Dad…" I called out in a voice so small, so broken. They didn't answer. They wouldn't ever answer.
Something inside me shattered. A deep, hollow pain erupted in my chest, and I screamed—a sound that seemed to come from the deepest part of me. My body shook with sobs, my tears falling on their still forms as I cried for them to wake up, to come back.
The brute man appeared behind me, his large hands gently covering my face, shielding me from the sight. "Don't look, child," he murmured, but I had already seen.
I screamed again, fighting his hold, but he kept me close, cradling me as I sobbed uncontrollably. The pain was too much. It was too real. My world had crumbled, and all I could do was cry—cry until there were no more tears left. Until the weight of my grief became too heavy, and everything went black.