It began with the sound of crows.
Not distant. Not cautious.
They were screaming—loud, violent, hungry. Inches from my ears.
One pecked at my cheekbone before I swatted it away, fingers stiff like they'd been frozen shut.
My hand trembled.
Cold. Dead.
I gasped.
Air flooded in—thick and sour, reeking of old moss and decay. My lungs burned. My throat ripped open with the first breath, and I coughed up black water that stank of stagnant time.
Where...?
The sky was ash. No sun. No moon. Just shifting gray clouds like torn silk overhead.
I sat up—tried to.
My back spasmed. My bones screamed.
I fell sideways into damp soil. Something cracked under my ribs.
Stones, maybe.
Or bones.
Then I saw it.
My body.
Or what was left of it.
My skin was charcoal. Burned. Scarred.
Laced with old chains melted into my arms like iron vines.
My chest bore a brand—some divine sigil I couldn't read, seared across my sternum in faded gold.
My name...
What was my name?
> Raiken.
The word came unbidden.
Whispered not in my ears, but deep inside my chest—like an echo stirring in a cave where no voice had ever belonged.
Then came the growl.
Not mine.
Low. Guttural. Hungry.
It rose from the shadows beneath me.
A second heartbeat throbbed under my skin.
A wolf's breath.
I felt it snarl through my veins.
> You are not alone.
I turned, crawling backward in panic.
But nothing followed.
Only pine needles.
Fog.
Graves—cracked and crooked—around me like broken teeth in a dead mouth.
---
"Don't move too quickly," said a voice.
A child's voice.
I froze.
There, standing at the edge of the trees, was a little girl—no older than ten.
She wore a faded red kimono, stained at the hem.
A blindfold of black silk covered her eyes.
She held a broken bell in one hand.
"You've been asleep for too long," she said calmly.
"The curse has grown roots."
"Who—"
She tilted her head.
"Your name is Raiken. Once priest. Once executioner. Now..."
She paused. "Now you are something else."
---
My fingers dug into the soil.
"How do you know me?"
"I don't."
She stepped forward.
"But I see things.
I see what was, and what may yet come."
She stopped two paces away.
"You've returned. Just like the prophecy said."
---
I shook my head. "Prophecy?"
"The one the gods tried to burn."
She pointed to my chest.
"They failed."
I looked down.
The brand on my skin shimmered faintly—gold lines writhing like something alive.
Then it flared.
Pain stabbed through me.
My breath vanished.
Behind my eyes, visions:
> A white wolf, jaws drenched in starlight.
A battlefield beneath a blood moon.
A throne carved of bone and chained lightning.
My own face, screaming, as the world collapsed.
The visions vanished.
I collapsed onto my hands and knees, vomiting mud and memories I didn't want.
---
The girl knelt beside me, voice soft.
"You carry something the gods fear."
I stared at her. "What am I?"
She answered without blinking:
> "You are the wolf that was cast out.
You are the fire that would not die.
You are Raiken, and the Realms have not forgotten you."
---
Far above, the crows shrieked again—no longer feeding.
They were warning.
The wind shifted.
The air turned cold.
The girl stood.
"They've found you."
"Who?"
She turned toward the woods.
"The enforcers of the Moon."
Then she held out her hand.
"Come with me, if you want to live past the hour."
---
I hesitated.
My limbs still burned.
My mind screamed for answers.
But instinct—old and wolfish—howled louder.
I took her hand.
And the dead forest swallowed us both.