The warm, dim light of dawn filters through the windows of a humble cabin. Tomas, lying on a modest wooden bed—his scars exposed beneath layers of bandages—wakes up and notices a faint scent of chamomile and mint that permeates the air. A young lady enters carrying a wooden tray on which she holds a steaming cup and a cool cloth. Her hair, a dark green shade, is tied back with a simple ribbon, and her eyes, like emeralds, shine with a mix of concern and relief as they behold Tomas awakening.
Tomas is left speechless by the aura the young lady exudes, an air of calm he hadn't felt in a long time.
Young Miss (in a firm yet gentle voice):— I'm glad you woke up. —
She approaches the bed where Tomas lies.
— Although you're awake, you should keep resting. Most of your wounds have closed, but that wound on your abdomen seems like it will take longer. —
Tomas remains silent, trying to grasp the situation.
Tomas (grunting in a weak voice):— Where am I…? And who are you…?
Young Miss (smiling as she speaks):— This is my home. We're in the town of Virendale, and my name is Alenya… Alenya Jadehart. My father and I are the town's doctors, and I found you injured in one of the nearby caves where I collect medicinal herbs. —
Disoriented and with a sharp pain in his abdomen, Tomas reaches for his Cryotum dagger. Alenya stops him with a swift movement, placing the wooden tray on the bedside table beside him.
— You should avoid making such movements while injured. If you're looking for your dagger, I'll return it when you've fully recovered. Meanwhile, drink this. —
Alenya hands him the cup from the tray, its aroma of honey and ginger root soothing him. Tomas takes a sip and frowns.
Tomas (muttering):— It's sweet…
Alenya offers a slight smile as she watches his expression.
Alenya (laughing):— Haha… I didn't expect to see an adult with so many wounds unable to handle a sweet drink.
Tomas simply remains silent as he sips his drink and watches Alenya's laughter.
Alenya sits on the bed next to Tomas and, with a curious gaze, continues the conversation.
— Now that I think of it, I've already given you my name, but you haven't told me yours. What is your name? —
Tomas (calmly):— That's right, my name is Tomas… Tomas Silver.
As the dawn intensifies, bathing the cabin in golden hues, Alenya finishes adjusting his bandages and steps back, studying Tomas with a mix of curiosity and caution. Her emerald eyes shimmer as if guarding ancient secrets, and then her soft voice breaks the silence:
Alenya:— Tomas Silver…
She repeats his name, as if savoring its taste.
— A name that sounds like dry leaves crunching under the snow. Are you from the north, perhaps? —
Tomas diverts his gaze toward the window, where the forest is beginning to stir. He wasn't used to answering questions—especially ones probing into his past.
Tomas (feigning indifference):— Maybe… In truth, I don't remember much of my past.
Unperturbed, Alenya takes the empty cup and places it on the tray. Before withdrawing, however, her fingers brush the edge of the blanket covering Tomas—a brief, yet warm contact.
Tilting her head, with her jade pendant grazing the edge of the blanket, Alenya murmurs:
— The wounds of the body heal…
As she speaks, her jade pulses in rhythm with her voice:
— But those you hide here…
Her finger traces a circle over her chest, where the pendant glows.
— They are like poisoned roots. If you don't uproot them, they'll grow until they choke you.
Tomas feels his Cryotum dagger vibrate in the corner, as if trying to communicate something about Alenya's pendant. He struggles to focus, bewildered by the unfamiliar situation with her.
Her eyes rest on his chest, where his heart beats steadily.
— Those are the ones that take the longest to mend…
Tomas unconsciously clenches his fists. It's the first time someone has spoken of his invisible scars—and he isn't sure whether to feel exposed or relieved.
Tomas (attempting to change the subject):— Is that your way of analyzing every stranger you bring here?
Alenya (smiling, without any hint of mockery):— Only those who carry daggers made of Cryotum.
Her tone lowers as she continues:
— That blade… it isn't an ordinary weapon. It hails from the Frozen Lands of Nórdheim, doesn't it?
The atmosphere grows tense; his dagger's reaction seems driven not just by her pendant, but by secrets far deeper than he'd imagined.
— Cryotum chooses its bearers—
Alenya murmurs, as if reading his thoughts:
— And it has chosen you for something more than merely shedding blood.
Before Tomas can reply, the sound of footsteps echoes outside. The door creaks open, revealing an older man with graying hair and somber gray eyes—Elion Jadehart, Alenya's father.
Elion:— Daughter, the preparations for the valerian harvest…
He pauses upon noticing Tomas's awakening.
— Ah, our guest has returned to the land of the living.
His tone is kind, yet Tomas notices the way Elion examines the Cryotum dagger resting on a chest in the corner. It isn't the look of a simple doctor, but of someone who recognizes the power of ancient metal. Tomas can only hide his surprise—it seems this is no ordinary town, or at least, this family is not.
Alenya (introducing Tomas to her father):— Father, this is Tomas… Tomas, Elion Jadehart.
The elder nods respectfully, though Tomas doesn't miss the glimmer of concern in his eyes.
Elion:— Welcome to our home, stranger. Although I hope your stay here doesn't bring… complications.
The warning is veiled yet unmistakable. Tomas nods briefly, understanding the message: "Do not bring your war to our doorstep."
As Elion withdraws, Alenya takes a vial of ointment and places it on the bedside table.
Alenya (in a firm voice):— Rest, for you must still tend to your recovery.
As she leaves, a breeze drifts through the window, caressing the jade pendant hanging from her neck. The stone glows faintly, and for an instant, Tomas swears he sees the reflection of a great tree in it.
Alenya returns at noon carrying a basket of valerian roots, her hands stained with earth. Tomas, now seated on a stool by the window, watches her every movement. The sunlight, filtered through the leaves, paints golden patterns on her green hair, reminding Tomas of the stained glass windows of an abandoned cathedral he once plundered years ago.
Tomas (suddenly):— Why did you save me?
Breaking the silence, his voice rasps as if the words scratch his throat.
— I could be a bandit. A murderer.
Without taking her eyes off him, Alenya sets the basket on the table.
Alenya:— Herbs do not judge. They heal whoever needs them.
She replies while running a bundle of thyme between her fingers.
— Besides, your gaze—though sharp—is not that of a bloodthirsty person; that very quality is reflected in your Cryotum dagger. For that metal is very special. It feeds on will… and yours still shines, even if you try to hide it.
Tomas suppresses a grimace. No one has spoken to him that way since… never.
Tomas:— And you?
He counters by pointing at her pendant.
— That stone isn't from any market. It looks like a relic from the past, and it exudes a very ancient energy.
Alenya freezes. For the first time, her calm facade cracks, revealing a flash of pain.
Alenya (with an expression hinting at sorrow):— It is a legacy.
After a sigh, silence falls for a few seconds.
— One that my mother paid for with blood.
That night, while Elion checks Tomas's bandages, the full moon bathes the cabin in its silvery light. The elder drops a vial of arnica tincture, and as he bends down to pick it up, his robe slips slightly, revealing a mark on his clavicle: a stylized tree, identical to the engraving on Alenya's pendant.
Tomas (curiously):— Do you know anything about the high elves?
Tomas asks while, with an indifferent expression, he points to the symbol.
Elion slowly straightens, his gray eyes clouding like a lake at dawn.
Elion:— The High Elves are sacred beings, legends entrusted with the protection of the world tree Eryndor.
He replies while readjusting his robe brusquely.
— But even the beings of legend… sometimes drop a few seeds.
Before Tomas can press further, a howl tears through the night.
Even before Tomas can insist, a piercing howl shatters the silence. Alenya bursts into the cabin, her jade flashing with a supernatural gleam.
Alenya (panting):— The wolves!
Her worry is plain on her face.
— There's a pack in the forest. Something has enraged them.
Tomas quickly grabs his dagger before Elion even notices, unable to stop him. The Cryotum dagger begins to vibrate as if responding to the light from Alenya's jade pendant. Runes start etching themselves along its blade, glowing with a glacial blue tone and casting dancing shadows on the walls.
Tomas (in a strong voice):— Stay here.
He orders, ignoring the stabbing pain in his side.
Alenya blocks him with an arm, her emerald eyes blazing.
Alenya:— You're not the only one who knows how to fight.
She replies as she leaves the room, only to return quickly with a number of small bottles containing various poisons.
— You need not worry about me; I can defend myself at least, but you're still injured, so in the worst case you'll need my help if your wounds worsen.
In the forest, the shadows seem to breathe. A dozen black-furred wolves, with eyes red as embers, encircle an injured deer. But these aren't ordinary beasts: their fangs drip a purple liquid, and the ground beneath their paws withers.
Elion (murmuring):— Shadowwolves!
Elion murmurs, having followed them despite Tomas's protests.
— Creatures of the Vel'Tharion Clan… This is a message.
Alenya advances, her jade pulsing in unison with the Cryotum.
Alenya (whispering):— They don't seem to be just wolves…
As she observes them intently, a sudden thought strikes her.
— They are mirrors. They reflect the darkness we carry within.
The first attack comes as a whirlwind of claws and ice. Tomas moves on instinct, his dagger drawing deadly arcs, but every wound he inflicts on the wolves closes too quickly. Meanwhile, Alenya dances among the beasts, evading them as she hurls her poison-filled bottles while administering antidotes to both Tomas and his father.
Elion (shouting):— The jade, Tomas!
From behind, Elion shouts:
— Use the jade!
In a moment of distraction, one of the Shadowwolves charges at Alenya. Tomas reacts without thinking: he throws his dagger, plunging it into the beast's eye, and rushes to her side. Alenya's pendant explodes in an emerald flash, and the Cryotum, still embedded in the wolf, resonates with an ancient song.
The Shadowwolves howl in agony as a green mist engulfs them. When it clears, only frost-covered bones remain.
Back in the cabin, Elion reflects on the events—how the beasts attacking the town belong to one of the five clans charged with protecting the seals that keep angels and demons at bay, as set by the treaty after the great holy war.
— This is strange, for those creatures appeared here, and those wolves are from the continent of Eldarya.
Meanwhile, he approaches Alenya and takes her pendant, opening it so that Tomas can see a small piece of wood inside.
— Perhaps what they were after was this.
Tomas (confused):— That piece of wood? How could that be so valuable?
Alenya responds as her face reflects a trace of melancholy.
Alenya:— That piece of wood belongs to the world tree Eryndor.
Elion continues.
Elion:— Alenya's mother is of mixed descent—a descendant of a high elf, one of the guardians of the holy Sylvara Elyndra.
Tomas (surprised):— I understand…
Tomas can't process the sudden flood of information.
— Wait… so the "seed" you mentioned was about both Alenya's mother and Alenya herself.
Alenya (with melancholy):— So a seed, huh…
She says while looking at her father.
Elion (trying to change the subject):— Y… It's true… but even so, those from the Vel'Tharion Clan shouldn't be interested in a small fragment of Eryndor, since they could request the high elf who protects it in this generation to examine it or even take a small piece—after all, their clan's mission is noble.
Scratching his head in thought over the possibilities, he adds:
— Ah… I don't understand; anyway, coincidence or not, you must be more careful, Alenya.
Alenya:— All right, Dad.
At the same time, Alenya directs her gaze at Tomas and adds:
— Tomas…! It would be better if you didn't rush into danger now, when you haven't fully recovered.
Tomas only lowers his gaze, inexplicably affected by her words.
Days pass, and Tomas recovers enough to move more freely. Yet he senses a familiar presence and turns toward it.
Tomas (disgusted):— What are you doing here, Lyrion?
Lyrion emerges from the shadows where he had been hiding and presents himself to Tomas with his distinctive, irritating smile.
Lyrion (mocking):— Haha… who would've thought I'd see the great Wolf domesticated like a household pet.
Tomas quickly approaches, pressing his dagger against Lyrion's throat, his expression full of annoyance.
— Whoa, whoa, whoa… Calm down, companion.
Tomas abruptly cuts off the conversation.
Tomas (annoyed):— We're not companions!
Lyrion:— Oh… that does depress me.
Tomas presses the dagger even harder against Lyrion's neck.
— I understand… but that doesn't matter now. I've come to give you some news and a warning.
Lyrion takes a breath and continues:
— I found you through my special channels, but don't underestimate the information network of the Blood Moon—so I recommend you leave and report the success of your mission immediately.
After Lyrion's words, Tomas slowly lowers his dagger, though his gaze remains intense. Lyrion, still wearing his mocking smile as he merges with the shadows, lets his voice trail off like a whisper:
— Remember, Silver Wolf: Your strength comes from your solitude. If you tie yourself to a pack for protection, it will only make you vulnerable.
Before disappearing completely, Lyrion tosses a scroll sealed with the Blood Moon's symbol. Tomas opens it and reads:
"Mission accomplished. Return to the Crescent Quarter for final report. – Aetheria Argentum"
The name Aetheria resonates like a threat. Tomas burns the scroll, channeling his energy, but remains silent.
That night, Alenya finds Tomas in the forest, cleaning his Cryotum dagger in the moonlight while he stands transfixed by the emanating glow. The wind caresses the jade on his necklace, which glimmers in synchrony with the ancient metal.
Alenya (in a low voice):— What are you thinking about so much?
Tomas, lost in his thoughts, looks up suddenly.
Tomas (surprised):— Ah, I didn't notice you were near.
Alenya moves closer and sits by his side as she, like him, gazes at the moon.
Alenya (insisting):— You still haven't answered me.
Tomas:— … Soon, I'll have to leave.
After a moment of reflection, Tomas continues:
— This afternoon, an annoying acquaintance reminded me of the kind of life I have—and what I can never have.
Upon hearing these words, Alenya draws closer, their bodies nearly touching.
Alenya (softly):— Wouldn't the life you have be better by my side...?
She speaks these tender words as her face flushes, only to hide her expression from Tomas's view.
Tomas is taken aback by Alenya's words.
Tomas:— Perhaps a life like that… would be the best.
That night, beneath the bright glow of the moon and stars, Tomas gently embraces Alenya and their lips meet in a sweet kiss.
Dawn paints the sky in golden and violet tones, illuminating the small town of Virendale. The cabin of Alenya and her father, Elion, is shrouded in a tense calm. Tomas prepares to depart, adjusting the straps of his Cryotum dagger, while Alenya watches him from the doorway—her jade pendant glowing softly. The wind caresses her green hair, and the air is filled with the scent of chamomile and mint, reminding Tomas of the days of recovery spent there.
Alenya (with a trembling voice):— Will you return?
Tomas (avoiding her gaze as he adjusts his dagger):— I can't promise something I'm not sure I can fulfill.
Alenya (stepping closer, holding a bracelet woven with herbs):— Then take this. It's a bracelet made from herbs that ward off wolves… and shadows.
Tomas (taking the bracelet, noticing how it glows faintly upon touching his skin):— Is it magic?
Alenya (smiling sadly):— It's protection. And a reminder that no matter how far you are, there will always be a light to guide you back.
Tomas (looking directly at her):— Alenya, I'm not a good man. I've done things I can't forget… things I don't want you to see.
The pain and determination in his eyes mix as he speaks.
Alenya (placing her hand over her heart):— I don't judge you for your past, Tomas. I see you for who you are now… and who you could be.
Tomas (clenching the bracelet, feeling its warmth):— If I return…
Alenya (firmly interrupting):— When you do. Because I know you will. No matter how dark the road may be, there will always be a reason to come back.
Tomas (nodding slowly with a bitter smile):— You're too optimistic for someone so small.
Alenya (laughing softly):— And you're too pessimistic for someone who is so strong and great. Besides, you carry your Cryotum dagger—and a metal like that has never been easy to control.
Tomas (sighing as he slips the bracelet onto his wrist):— Perhaps… but I don't know if that reason is enough.
Alenya (taking his hand, her gaze intense):— Then find one. For you… and for me.
The sun begins to rise over the mountains, illuminating Alenya's face. Tomas feels a mixture of pain and hope as he looks at her. For a moment, the world seems to stand still.
Tomas (in a low voice):— I don't know if I deserve this… to deserve you.
Alenya (smiling with tears in her eyes):— It isn't about deserving, Tomas. It's about choosing. And I choose you, with everything you are.
Tomas (approaching with a vulnerable expression):— Then… wait for me. I don't know how long it will take, but I'll return.
Alenya (nodding as a tear falls down her cheek):— I'll wait for you. But promise me one thing…
Tomas meets her gaze.
— Whatever it takes.
Alenya (in a firm voice):— Do not let the darkness consume you. Remember that there is something beyond blood and ice… there is light. And that light awaits you here.
Tomas nods, feeling the weight of her words. With one final glance at the cabin and the town that welcomed him, he turns and begins walking into the forest. Alenya watches him from the doorway, her jade pendant shining brightly.
Alenya (whispering as Tomas disappears among the trees):— Come back to me, Tomas Silver… Come back to me.
The wind carries her words like an echo, and though Tomas can no longer see her, he feels her presence in the bracelet on his wrist.
Later, Tomas returns to one of the headquarters of the Order of the Blood Moon. His expression remains unchanged, yet as he undertakes more missions, his encounters with Alenya become increasingly evident in the subtle shifts in his demeanor.
The black marble hall of the Order vibrates with stealthy footsteps as Tomas crosses its threshold. His cloak, imbued with the scent of Virendale's wild herbs, contrasts sharply with the sulfurous, burnt-metal air of the bastion. A group of novice recruits parts to let him pass, but this time Tomas does not avoid their stares. One of them—a young demon with twisted horns—dares to nod in respect.
New Recruit (whispering to his companion):— Did you see? The Silver Wolf almost smiled…
Tomas pretends not to hear, but his fingers brush against an empty vial near his Cryotum dagger on his belt. Inside, traces of Virendale honey linger.
In the corridors, vigilance runes flicker warmly as they detect his Nivora. Even the darkness seems to retreat before him.
In the training hall, where daggers carve deadly arcs, two assassins exchange hushed whispers while cleaning their weapons:
Assassin 1 (rubbing a dagger with snake venom):— Did you notice how long it takes for him to return now? His missions used to last three days… now they're weeks.
Assassin 2 (sharpening a blade disdainfully):— It seems roots are growing somewhere. They say the Whisper Network still tracks his steps… but someone is erasing his traces.
Aetheria Argentum, the Crescent Moon, watches from the shadows. Her silver hair glistens like ice under the torchlight, and her crimson eyes track every move Tomas makes with disdain.
Aetheria (murmuring):— A human playing at being a wolf…
Adjusting her black silk glove, she adds:
— Luminis errs by trusting him.
In the Chamber of the Eclipse, a circle of ebony thrones encircles a map of Ethalios engraved on the floor. Aetheria takes her seat with vampiric elegance, while Luminis Umbra, Lord of the Eclipse, hovers at the center like a living shadow.
Aetheria (in a mellifluous, icy voice):— The human forgets his place. He feeds on hope… and that makes him weak.
A hologram of Tomas materializes above the table—images of him negotiating with mercenaries instead of killing them, healing minor wounds in remote villages, and sleeping under the stars rather than in the Order's cells.
Crescens (cracking his knuckles, his scar gleaming in the torchlight):— His Nivora has grown… but his loyalty is bleeding out.
Aetheria (slamming the table, making the goblets of blood wine tremble):— He is a threat! We control beasts by shattering their souls… not by nurturing their hearts. That human is his chain.
The hologram shifts: Alenya is seen walking through Virendale, her jade shining even in the projection. With a theatrical gesture, Aetheria points to the pendant.
— Capture her. Destroy her village. And when he comes to save her…
Her crimson eyes fix on Luminis Umbra, who watches from the shadows.
Luminis (in a deep, emerging voice):— …We will offer him a deal. His love for his life… and for hers.
Nox Mortiferum (an elderly necromancer with a voice like sawdust):— And if he rebels? Now he's capable of hurting even a Moon…
Aetheria (smiling with all her fangs bared):— That's why I will lead the attack. If the Wolf bites… I will relish tearing out his fangs.
As the Council dissolves, Lyrion appears before Aetheria in a whirlwind of shadows. His smile is a challenge.
Lyrion (fidgeting with a spiritual ice dagger):— Watch your step, Crescent. Tomas isn't the only one hiding roots…
Aetheria (fixing him with a murderous stare):— Threats, Lyrion? You're a squad leader… not a Moon.
Lyrion (laughing as he fades away):— Moons wane… but shadows are eternal.
Tomas finds himself in Alenya's town, resting. Through a communication gem inscribed with a rune, he is informed of his next mission.
Dawn tints the sky in violet hues as Tomas adjusts the strap of his Cryotum dagger. Alenya stands at the threshold of the cabin, holding her jade pendant in one hand as if the stone could hold him. The wind plays with her green hair, and Tomas memorizes every detail—the shine of her emerald eyes, the curve of her sad smile, the way the dawn light reflects off the inherited jade.
Tomas (in a hoarse voice, avoiding her gaze):— I will return before the moon grows.
Alenya (whispering with a touch of irony):— You promise as if time obeys you.
Tomas offers no reply. Instead, he says:
He knew that promises in his world were like cracks through which death seeped in. In their place, he handed her a small carved glass vial etched with runes of ice:
Tomas:— Recently, I've learned to handle runes better. If the jade shines more than usual… break it. I… will feel it.
The vial contained a shard of Cryotum, imbued with his Nivora. Alenya takes it, and for a moment, their fingers intertwine. No further words are exchanged. Tomas departs northward on a mission that reeks of a trap: "Intercept a shipment of demonic weapons at the Pass of Sighs."
As Tomas ventures down the dark path toward the Pass of Sighs—with his Cryotum dagger glowing faintly in the waning moonlight—his figure blends with the forest's gloom. Each step draws him farther from Virendale and the sole light remaining in his soul, while his mind echoes with Lyrion's words and the promise of revenge. His wounds throb in rhythm with his determination, and every sigh seems laden with the weight of an inescapable fate.
Miles away, on an imposing crag overlooking the town, Aetheria Argentum—the Crescent Moon—rises from the shadows. With a cold, calculating gaze, she summons her squads as her subordinates deploy like a dark tide, poised to attack Alenya's town. The atmosphere in that fortress of vengeance pulsates with the silent rumble of deadly preparations, and the crimson gleam in her eyes reveals an ancient hatred for everything Tomas represents.
Atop a hidden hill, Lyrion positions himself, his figure barely discernible in the twilight. Thanks to his unique ability, he observes two realities simultaneously: on the left, the solitary silhouette of Tomas, perched along his mission's path; on the right, Aetheria and her lethal orders advancing toward the town—a harbinger of a storm of fire and shadows. Meanwhile, Lyrion activates his poly-cognition, enabling him to observe several situations at once, provided he has previously marked one of his targets.
And indeed, Tomas was marked during his fight in the trial of the towers—and in the case of Aetheria, Lyrion marked one of her accompanying assassins.
With the gold coin he always carries, Lyrion slowly spins it, letting its tinkling merge with the echo of destiny.
Lyrion (murmuring with an ironic laugh):— One face with a wolf… the other, with a blood moon. Will the Silver Wolf be able to break his chains and forge his own destiny, or will he fall into the darkness that haunts him?
The wind carries his words among the trees, as the two paths diverge in the night—each marked by the inescapable weight of betrayal, revenge, and redemption. In that precise moment, the fate of Ethalios appears to fork, and Lyrion—observer of shadows—laughs softly, knowing the game has only just begun.
With that echo of uncertainty and challenge, the night closes, leaving the promise of an uncertain future suspended—one where light and darkness will battle to define everyone's destiny.