The sun blazed mercilessly in the sky, casting long spears of golden light through the dense canopy. Shafts of illumination danced across the undergrowth as a colossal figure surged through the forest like a living storm. Trees shook. Branches snapped. Birds erupted into the air in frightened flocks.
On its back, clinging desperately to coarse fur, was a man no larger than a child compared to the creature beneath him.
Lucas.
His knuckles were white from how tightly he gripped the beast's thick mane. The sheer force of the Wolf's strides sent tremors through his bones. Wind screamed past his ears like a thousand wailing spirits, and every now and then, a whip-like branch lashed across his face or tore at his clothes, leaving shallow cuts and bruises. His arms ached. His muscles screamed. But the beast did not slow down—not even for a heartbeat.
It was as if the Greater Guardian Wolf was fleeing from death itself.
Lucas had only begun to piece together the danger when the creature had hurled him atop its back like a discarded doll. Before that, his entire focus had been on escaping its grasp—kicking, squirming, clawing at anything he could reach. But every attempt was met with overwhelming force and absolute futility. The beast was too strong. Too fast. Too determined.
And now, the idea of escape was a distant fantasy. If he let go, the speed alone would shatter every bone in his body.
"Who survives a fall at this speed? Not a human, that's for sure." The thought was absurd, but the fact that he'd even considered it gave weight to how unreal the entire situation felt.
He had been with the creature for what felt like hours now—riding through twisting paths and ancient groves that pulsed with a wild, primordial energy. He had seen things. Shadowy figures lurking behind trees with too many limbs. Flickers of light that whispered secrets in unintelligible tongues. Once, he even thought he glimpsed an enormous elk with horns like polished obsidian and eyes that glowed faintly blue, watching them silently from the shadows.
And through it all, the Wolf never paused. Never faltered. Blood trailed behind it in a steady rhythm, soaking into the leaves and ferns like a crimson ribbon marking its passage.
Lucas's gaze drifted toward the embedded battle-axe still lodged in the beast's flank. A gruesome reminder that this was no noble rescue. The blade shone dully, caked with blood, and the wound around it pulsed with every breath the Wolf took. It was bleeding out.
"Eventually, it'll collapse. Probably soon. Then what?"
He had briefly considered using the axe—yanking it free and trying to fight his way off. But logic had quickly killed that thought. If he drew the weapon and the Wolf reacted, he'd be flung into the trees like a ragdoll. And even if he succeeded… what then? The other creatures in this part of the forest made the Wolf seem like a guardian angel by comparison.
So he waited.
And watched.
And thought.
"Why me?" The question gnawed at him more viciously than fear. "Why not one of the mercenaries? Why not Lieutenant Reinfrey?" He recalled hearing one of them say that this section of the forest was forbidden—uncharted, even by the local rangers. Which meant the Wolf had crossed into human territory on purpose.
Could he have been the purpose?
Was it fate? Was it madness? Or was he simply prey, being carried to the creature's den to be devoured or offered as food to unseen young?
The thought made his skin crawl.
His fingers reached for the small satchel tied to his waist, checking by touch. Yes—still there. The elixirs. His lifeline. They wouldn't stop the Wolf or help him escape, but they would keep him alive if he needed to run, or if the beast finally died and left him stranded in this nightmare realm.
On the outside, he looked composed—eyes sharp, breathing steady, posture crouched low to stay balanced.
But inside, he was unraveling.
"How am I supposed to stay calm? I woke up not knowing who I am, half my body broken, and now I'm being dragged through a cursed forest on the back of a myth!" His thoughts swirled in a tightening spiral of panic.
Every logical instinct told him he should have died already. But some part of him—something deeper than instinct—kept whispering: "Stay alive. See this through. There's more at play here."
And so, gritting his teeth, he dug his fingers deeper into the Wolf's fur and lowered his body to brace against another sharp turn. He had no answers. No weapons. No allies.
But he still had himself.
And that had to be enough.
Hours passed. Perhaps even days—it was impossible to tell beneath the ever-thickening canopy. Time had become untethered, melting into a haze of motion, wind, and silence broken only by the pounding of the Wolf's paws against the forest floor.
Lucas no longer strained to hold on. His body, aching and battered, had settled into a strange rhythm with the beast beneath him, as if the two had become a single moving entity bound by survival. The absurdity of it all had begun to chip away at his grasp on reality. Was this still the waking world? Or had he slipped into some feverish dream where ancient beasts roamed lands untouched by time?
Yet the world around him was too vivid to be a dream.
The forest had changed.
Drastically.
The trees had grown monstrously tall, their bark gnarled and weathered like the skin of old gods. Towering trunks spiraled into the heavens, some so wide they could house entire chambers within. Sunlight barely pierced the dense canopy above, filtering down in rare shafts like sacred rays of a forgotten deity. It cast patches of gold across leaves the size of cloaks and fruit that hung heavy and swollen—some as large as a man's torso.
Lucas stared in quiet awe, the breath catching in his throat. "This isn't the same forest…" he thought. "This is something else entirely. Something ancient. Something sacred."
The air itself had shifted—thicker now, yet oddly invigorating, as if every breath fed more than just the lungs. It whispered through the leaves in a language older than speech, carrying with it the faint scent of unknown blossoms and wet stone. Everything felt… alive. Not just living, but aware. Watching. Listening.
Even the roots slithering across the forest floor had taken on strange proportions, tangled like the limbs of sleeping giants, as if the earth itself was dreaming of motion. At times, Lucas swore he saw one shift—just a flicker—when he wasn't looking directly at it.
'Those fruits… could they even be edible?' he wondered, staring at a bulbous, golden orb pulsing faintly on a vine. "No. Better not. If the rest of this forest is anything to go by, one bite might turn me into something else entirely."
His unease deepened with every step the Wolf took. But not because of the terrain.
It was the feeling inside him. That throbbing.
It had started back near the camp—a subtle pulse in the center of his chest, like a forgotten echo of something lost. But now, the pulse had grown louder, deeper. Not painful, but undeniable. Like a heartbeat that wasn't his. A call pulling him forward.
His hands clutched the Wolf's fur tighter as he fought the rising questions. "Could this be the reason for everything? The Wolf's appearance, the attack, me being the target all along… It's not random. This sensation—this pull—it's guiding us somewhere. And the Wolf is following it."
The realization sent a cold shiver down his spine. Was he being led? Or summoned?
Above, the "sky" shimmered with impossible stars. But as his gaze rose, Lucas realized they weren't stars at all. Tiny lights floated lazily between branches—glowing motes that shimmered like the cosmos, dancing and swirling as if caught in some unseen current. They gave off no heat, only a comforting luminescence, like the hum of lullabies once sung in a forgotten language.
The stars were part of the forest.
"This place… it's not just a forest anymore. It's a world."
Then something new entered his view—half-hidden by roots and vines.
Rubble.
The jagged remains of stone columns peeked out from moss-covered hills. Walls, broken and half-swallowed by the earth, suggested forgotten structures. A fractured staircase curled down into the dark like a serpent made of shale.
Lucas's eyes narrowed. "Structures…?" He leaned forward instinctively, trying to get a better look. The materials were unfamiliar, yet the layout—arches, bricks, the worn impressions of carvings—was undeniably human.
Or had been, once.
"Who could've lived here?" he wondered. "This deep in the forest? Impossible." But the more they traveled, the more ruins emerged—collapsed towers, hollowed out plazas, even the skeletal remains of a domed temple. Vines choked every inch of stone, yet somehow, the ruinous city radiated presence. Memory. Like the forest had grown up around it, not over it.
"A civilization lost to time? An ancestral tribe? Or something far older?"
But his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, undeniable shift—the Wolf was slowing down.
Its massive strides had dulled, its breath becoming heavier, more labored. Each step came with a faint tremor, the kind felt when a mountain begins to yield under its own weight. Lucas's attention snapped to the embedded battle-axe once more. The blood had dried along its hilt, crusting like rust, but the damage it had wrought was clearly taking its toll.
"Is this it? Has it reached its limit? Or… is this the place it meant to bring me?"
Lucas didn't know what answer he preferred. His heart began to race as he shifted slightly, preparing himself. Whatever happened next, he needed to be ready—whether to flee, to fight, or to understand.
The forest stilled, as if even the wind dared not breathe. And then came the light…
At first, it was subtle—a faint glow on the horizon, like dawn breaking through fog. But within moments, it engulfed the entire landscape in an otherworldly radiance.
Lucas squinted, raising an arm to shield his eyes, but the light didn't burn. It caressed.
Warm. Calming. Healing.
It wasn't blinding in the way sunlight could be. It was as if every beam held meaning, memory, even kindness. His wounds didn't vanish, but they eased, the pain dulling until it felt like a forgotten ache. His fear, so sharp only moments ago, softened beneath the weight of something… divine.
And then he saw it.
The Tree.
An immense pillar of life and light. It stood at the heart of the ruined city, not the tallest tree, but unquestionably the most present. Its bark shimmered with hues that shifted like liquid crystal—one moment ivory, then violet, then gold. Its branches reached outward like arms in welcome, not high but wide, sheltering the ruins beneath with a canopy of living starlight.
And the light… it wasn't a light.
It was all light.
Every color. Every warmth. Every spectrum. As if the tree had plucked rays from every corner of the world and woven them together in perfect harmony. It didn't just illuminate—it sang, in a way that only the soul could hear.
Lucas's mouth fell open, words stolen by the magnitude of what he saw.
"What… is this?"
He could feel it now—undeniably. The source of the throbbing in his chest. The reason for the Wolf's journey. The center of it all.
And yet, as he stared at the tree—this being of light and timelessness—he felt no closer to understanding.
Only awe.
And fear.
Because whatever this was, it wasn't the end.
It was just the beginning.