Kieran emerged from the ruins of the temple as the first light of dawn stretched across the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pale gold and gray. The storm had passed, leaving the world drenched and eerily quiet. The air was sharp and cold, carrying the faint scent of frost—a scent that now clung to him like a second skin.
The shard embedded in his palm pulsed faintly, its light hidden beneath his glove. Kieran flexed his fingers, feeling the weight of its presence. It was as though the crystal had become a part of him, intertwining with the strange power Fenra had awakened.
"Do you feel it?" Fenra's voice echoed in his mind, smooth and taunting.
Kieran didn't answer immediately. He felt it, all right—the icy, relentless energy that coursed through his veins. It was intoxicating, sharp and cold, like a blade pressed against his skin. It whispered promises of power and vengeance, but also carried a heavy warning: it was not entirely his.
"Yes," he said finally, his voice low. "It feels like... a burden."
Fenra let out a derisive snort. "A burden? That is the weight of survival, little human. The cost of power. Do not mistake it for anything else."
Kieran ignored the wolf's tone, his mind already turning toward the practical. He needed a plan. He couldn't stay near the ruins; someone would eventually come looking. Whether it was scavengers or those who had betrayed him, he had no desire to linger and be found unprepared.
"Where do we go from here?" Kieran asked, more to himself than to Fenra.
The wolf chuckled, the sound reverberating through Kieran's mind like distant thunder. "You're asking me for guidance? How amusing. I thought you were the clever one."
"I am," Kieran snapped, his irritation flaring. "But you've lived longer than I can imagine. You must know of places, resources, things I can use to grow stronger."
Fenra's laughter faded, replaced by a low growl of approval. "Very well. There is a place—a forest to the east. It is ancient, older than even your pathetic human kingdoms. The trees whisper secrets, and the creatures there are not bound by mortal rules. If you survive it, you may find... tools worth wielding."
Kieran frowned. "And if I don't survive?"
"Then you were unworthy, and this conversation is irrelevant."
The bluntness stung, but Kieran didn't let it show. He clenched his fists and started walking. The forest was as good a destination as any, and the sooner he left the shadow of the temple, the better.
The journey was grueling. His body, still battered from the betrayal and the bond, protested every step. The jagged wound in his side had stopped bleeding, but it hadn't healed completely, either. The frost within him seemed to slow the process, keeping him alive but refusing to grant him relief.
"You look pitiful," Fenra remarked after several hours of silence. "Are all humans this fragile, or are you an exception?"
"I'm alive, aren't I?" Kieran shot back through gritted teeth.
"Barely. If you die before we reach the forest, I'll be quite annoyed. Do you have any idea how dull it is, being trapped in a dying body?"
Kieran ignored him and pressed on. The landscape changed gradually, the rolling hills giving way to dense thickets and towering trees. The air grew colder, the sunlight struggling to pierce through the thick canopy above. It was as though the forest itself sought to keep intruders out.
"This is it," Fenra murmured, his voice tinged with something resembling respect. "The Frostbound Wilds. A place where the old magic still lingers, untamed and dangerous. If you falter, this forest will devour you whole."
Kieran paused at the edge of the forest, his sharp eyes scanning the shadows between the trees. He could feel it—the weight of something watching, waiting. It wasn't just the forest; something lived here, something powerful.
"What am I looking for?" he asked.
Fenra was silent for a moment before replying, "You'll know it when you see it. Trust me, the forest doesn't allow the weak to pass unnoticed. It will test you, little human, in ways you cannot prepare for."
"Wonderful," Kieran muttered before stepping into the woods.
The forest was alive in a way Kieran had never experienced. The trees seemed to move, their branches shifting as though reaching for him. The air was thick with a strange, electric energy, and every sound was amplified—the crunch of leaves beneath his boots, the distant rustle of unseen creatures.
Fenra's presence in his mind grew sharper, more alert. "Keep moving. Do not linger. The forest dislikes hesitation."
Kieran obeyed, though he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. His hand brushed against his concealed dagger—a habit more than a necessity. He doubted the blade would be of much use here.
Hours passed, or perhaps it was only minutes. Time felt distorted within the forest, bending and stretching like the gnarled roots beneath his feet. Kieran's body ached, but he refused to stop.
Then, the air shifted. A low, guttural growl echoed through the trees, and Kieran froze. The sound was too close, too deliberate.
"Finally," Fenra purred, his voice rich with anticipation. "It seems the forest has decided to play."
Kieran turned slowly, his eyes scanning the shadows. At first, he saw nothing. But then the darkness shifted, and a figure emerged—a massive beast with fur as black as night and eyes that glowed a sickly yellow. Its fangs were bared, saliva dripping from its maw as it circled him.
"A shadow hound," Fenra said, almost lazily. "Not the most dangerous thing here, but a good start. Let's see what you're made of."
Kieran's heart pounded, but he forced himself to stay calm. The frost within him stirred, cold and eager, as though sensing the threat. He raised his hand, and the shard in his palm flared to life, its icy glow illuminating the dark.
The hound lunged.
Kieran reacted instinctively, thrusting his hand forward. A burst of frost erupted from his palm, catching the creature mid-air and freezing it solid. The hound hit the ground with a sickening crunch, shards of ice scattering around it.
He stood there, panting, as the frost receded back into his hand. The hound lay motionless, its body encased in ice.
"Impressive," Fenra said, his voice laced with approval. "You're learning. Slowly, but you're learning."
Kieran didn't respond. He stepped around the frozen corpse and continued deeper into the forest, his mind racing. The power he wielded was immense, but it was also volatile. He needed control—complete and absolute—or it would consume him.
As he moved, the forest grew darker, the shadows pressing closer. But Kieran didn't falter. He had survived betrayal, death, and the bond with a godlike beast. Whatever this forest had in store, he would face it head-on.
Because survival wasn't enough anymore. He wanted vengeance. Power. And he would stop at nothing to claim it.