Zaenith’s large, weathered hand reaches into the den, pulling the tiny wolf pup from its mother’s teat. Her large hand encapsulates the entire animal. The mother snarls softly in protest, but Zaenith silences her with a single glance.

  "This one Seven, is yours." Zaenith declares, her voice cold as she drops the pup into my arms. The small creature huddles against me, its body trembling, a high-pitched whine escaping its tiny mouth.

  "Take care, child," Zaenith continues, her gaze stern as she crouches to my level. "A wolf is no domesticated dog. It will not follow blindly nor love you freely. If you cannot command it, it will turn on you. Understand?"

  She rises, her imposing figure towering over me. "Wolves are predators," she says, her tone harsh. "They know nothing but hunger and survival. It will value its own life over yours. As all those living should. Remember that, Seven. Always."

  I nod, clutching the baby wolf tightly to my chest. Though I don’t dare say it aloud. In my mind, I name him.

  Fang.

  I am face-to-face with my elder brother, Six, who stands two heads taller than me. His fists are like iron, and each blow feels like it could shatter bone.... and often does. I fight back with everything I have, but it’s not enough. My body breaks under his relentless assault, my ribs aching, my knuckles bloodied.

  When the fight ends, I can't stand, my vision swimming. But there is no respite. Zaenith looms over me. "Drink," she commands, forcing another potion down my throat. It burns, a fire that spreads from my mouth to my core, leaving me gasping. Relief comes only briefly as my wounds mend, the broken bones knitting themselves together, the torn flesh sealing over.

  But it doesn't end there. The potion is not one of healing, but of reshaping. I feel my bones shift unnaturally, my muscles stretch and contract in ways they shouldn’t.

  "This is for your sake, child. Endure it," Zaenith declares, devoid of sympathy. Her words, though harsh, carry the weight of truth, or at least, her truth.

  Around me, my elder brothers are silent, consumed by their own tribulations. They do not spare me a glance, their eyes focused inward.

  Each of us fights alone.

  Struggles alone.

  Endures alone.

  This is Zaenith’s way. Survival is earned through pain and perseverance, and no one, not even family, will save you from it.

  And yet... there is one who endures alongside me, that shares in my pain, that offers me comfort, reprieve.... love.

  Fang.

  He suffers as I do, his young body forced to consume Zaenith's potions. growing far larger and stronger than he should be for a pup his age.

  I bury my face into his soft fur, holding him tightly, his steady warmth a dear comfort, one of the few allowed to me.

  We hunt together. My knife and Fang’s jaws, bringing down the long-toothed cat. Its roar dies in a gurgle, signaling the end of the battle.

  Our wounds are grievous, deep gashes from claws and fangs that tore through flesh and muscle. Blood soaks into my clothes, staining the earth beneath us, while Fang limps, his fur matted with crimson.

  But together, we force down one of Zaenith’s potions, the acrid liquid searing our throats as I drink mine and he laps up his. My body convulses as wounds knit together, the bones realigning with an unnatural crack. Fang whines, his trembling frame surging with new strength as the injuries fade.

  Whatever it takes. Together, we will survive.

  We rise, ready to hunt again, the fatigue pushed to the edges of our minds. Zaenith watches from a distance. She nods in approval, and we continue.

  The long hunt goes on.

  Brother One looks down at me, his imposing figure already that of a man grown, taller even than Zaenith. His expression is unreadable as he bends low, resting a heavy hand on my head. "Emotion leads only to suffering, Seven. Cleave yourself from it, and you will be free," he says, his voice low and firm.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  I stare at him, confused, but no explanation comes. He straightens, turning his back, expecting no response. Is he leaving? My heart tightens as I watch him stride toward the edge of the clearing.

  From behind, Zaenith appears, her expression thunderous as she marches toward him. Her fury radiates like a storm, but Brother One does not falter.

  Their confrontation is terrifying; I dare not approach. The sky above darkens as they glower at each other.

  In the end, Zaenith, Mother... turns away, her anger unsatisfied but unwilling to escalate further. Brother One walks on, his silhouette growing smaller with every step until he vanishes completely. He does not look back. He is gone, never to return.

  My knife gleams in my trembling hands as Fang growls at me, his once familiar gaze now feral, starved, and unrecognizable. The wolf pup I was given to raise, my companion through endless trials, now approaches me with hunger blazing in his eyes.

  "It is time, Seven. Kill the wolf." Zaenith declares coldly, watching from above.

  My knife trembles, and so do I.

  He lunges, teeth bared, a guttural snarl tearing through the air as he crashes into me. His momentum knocks me backward, sending us both tumbling through the snow. Claws rake across my chest, tearing through fabric and flesh. I slash back, the blade in my hand a blur of desperate motion, carving shallow gashes into his flank.

  The wolf roars, a sound of a beast, and clamps his jaws around my forearm. I scream as his teeth sink in, hot blood streaming down my arm, but I twist roughly, forcing the knife into his shoulder. He howls in pain and lets go, staggering back for just a moment before lunging again. I barely roll out of the way, the snow beneath me stained crimson from our struggle.

  I push to my feet, my breaths ragged, and square off against him, my knife ready. He circles me, his movements slow but calculated, his golden eyes fixed on mine. When he leaps again, I’m ready. I duck low and drive the blade upward, feeling it sink deep into his chest. His body slams into mine, and we hit the ground hard, his weight pinning me beneath him.

  For a moment, there is silence.

  His teeth near my throat and my knife nears his heart.

  Fang hesitates, his golden eyes flickering with something.... recognition perhaps, or doubt.

  But I do not.

  Fear.

  The desire to survive.

  My will to live.

  It's all consuming, guiding my hand as it drives the blade into Fang's heart. His body jerks, eyes widening as his snarl fades into a pained whine. He collapses against me, and I feel the life drain from him, his warmth fading as blood pools between us.

  Fang...

  My wolf...

  My only friend...

  Is gone.

  I climb free of the wolf carcass, leaving the knife where it is. My breaths are shallow, my vision blurred, but Zaenith’s voice cuts through the haze.

  "Good, Seven," she says, her tone cold. "Now you understand. To survive means putting your own life above all else, to sacrifice without hesitation. Even those you love may one day come between you and survival. And if you falter, if they do not... it will be your end."

  Her gaze fixes on me as she steps closer. "Survival is everything. All that you have to offer the world depends on it. Never forget that, child. Survive. Always." She steps back, looking down at the slain wolf.

  "There is no greater will, than the will to live."

  Survive....

  Survive........

  I have to..............

  SURVIVE!!!!

  I look up at the looming monstrosity, my body still held aloft by Vael's damnable spell

  "Shit!!"

  I writhe and twist against the invisible force holding me, desperation coursing through every fiber of my being, my will to live fueling me with limitless strength. Yet no matter how I struggle, I cannot break free. The unseen bonds hold fast, there's nothing for me to fight, to attack, to break.

  I am simply held.

  The creature of darkness looms closer, its movements are slow and unnervingly... graceful.

  "Kindred," the voice booms, resonating with a power that makes the walls tremble.

  "Struggle not. For our union will be both beautiful and loved."

  The creature’s elongated fingers stretch toward me, their blackened, sinewy lengths glinting faintly in the dim light. My heart pounds, my thoughts race.

  I can’t let it end like this. I won’t.

  “AAaaarrGHHH!!!”

  I scream, as a long claw pierces my gut. It burrows, twisting, tearing through muscle and sinew like a cruel, invasive parasite. White-hot agony explodes in my core, my insides wrenching, trying to jerk away from the intrusion. I can feel the wet slick of my own blood gushing down my waist.

  I clench my teeth, gripping the scroll in my hand, its ancient power flows through me, combating the pain.

  There's two uses left. Not enough to kill this thing, I'm sure. But at this point, killing it is a far gone fantasy. I’ll settle for surviving, or at least getting that claw out of me!

  Symbols course before my eyes, a wave runic energy, blinding in its intensity. My pupils dart between one symbol and the next, each sigil searing itself into my mind. I commit them all to memory, feeling their eldritch strength flow through me, raw, overwhelming, and complete.

  There are two casts left. I won’t save them. There’s no point. Dropping the now-drained scroll, I raise my hands, arcane fire blazing from both.

  "Hyge H?tbolt!!"

  The words rip from my throat, resonating with ancient power, their force rippling through the air.

  Twin bolts of fire explode from my outstretched hands, streaking toward the creature. At this range and with its size, I can’t miss. The blazing projectiles sear into its eye sockets, their impact igniting the green orbs in an instant. Flames consume the beast’s skull, spreading rapidly as it thrashes wildly.

  Its scream is unlike anything I’ve ever heard, inhuman, shrill, ear-piercing. It reverberates through the chamber as the flames engulf its head, devouring flesh and bone alike.

  The spell holding me aloft breaks under its agony. I plummet to the ground, landing with a hard crash. For a moment, I lie there, dazed and groaning, clutching the open wound in my abdomen… but instinct pushes me forward.

  Struggling to my feet, I flee through the door I came from, my breath ragged and my injured body burning in protest. Behind me, the creature’s anguished cries echo. But I don’t look back. Even as I hear the loud, rumbling footsteps on my trail, I refuse to turn.

  My breath quickens, eyes flicking wildly through the manor’s many corridors until I just choose one at random, praying to the goddess.

  Please, I'll face the wolves. Just please let me out of here.

  Results

  -1 Scroll of the Firebolt

  +2 Mana