As I wandered deeper into the forest, something shifted.
At first, it was subtle—a shiver that danced across the back of my neck.
Then it moved down my spine, curling like a thread of ice into my chest.
I stopped.
Brows furrowing.
What… is this?
A sensation I couldn't name. Not fear. Not hunger.
Something that tickled at the edges of my senses—like a whisper brushing the edges of my hearing, just out of reach.
I turned my head, eyes narrowing.
Then I smelled it.
Blood.
Faint… but fresh.
Not the rot of death, not old violence.
This was recent.
Alive.
And not alone.
I moved with care, silent through the underbrush.
The forest grew denser as I followed the pull—something ancient within me guiding my feet even before my mind could choose a path.
The scent grew stronger.
And then, something else.
A sound.
Whimpers.
Not human.
Not entirely beast.
It was… choked.
Pained.
Like a creature trying not to scream.
I pressed my hand against the bark of a tree and slowly peered through the veil of hanging vines.
And there—within a clearing torn by clawed roots and shattered stones—
Lay a wounded creature.
Half-shrouded in moonlight, half-hidden in its own blood.
It trembled against the earth.
A beast… no—
Something else.
Its body was unlike anything I had seen. Dark fur like woven shadows, four limbs curled beneath it, wings—tattered—once grand, now broken. And its eyes, wide and pained, glowed faintly with a soft silver light.
I didn't know what it was.
But I knew it was dying.
My instincts warred within me.
Part of me told me to step back—observe, stay hidden.
Another part, louder, pulsing through the locket at my chest, whispered something else:
Help it.
Because whatever this thing was… it had survived something too.
Something cruel.
Something similar to what destroyed my home.
I stepped into the clearing.
The scent of blood was stronger now—iron-rich and sharp against the damp forest air.
The creature stirred.
Its ears twitched.
Then it looked at me.
A low, broken growl echoed from its throat as it tried to rise—but its limbs gave way, and it collapsed with a painful thud against the moss-covered ground.
Now that I was closer, I could see it more clearly.
A winged wolf.
Majestic even in ruin.
Its fur was black as night, tinged with deep silver at the edges like starlight woven into darkness. Long wings—feathered, not leathery—were torn and bloodied, one hanging limp, the other barely twitching. Scars etched across its flank and chest, some old, others fresh and still bleeding.
Its eyes met mine—wide, wild, afraid.
Not feral.
But traumatized.
It let out a whimper and began dragging itself backward, paw after paw, digging grooves into the soil as it tried to retreat.
Fear radiated from it like a storm.
Not because I threatened it…
But because it had been hunted before.
"Easy…" I whispered, kneeling slowly, keeping my hands where it could see them. "I won't hurt you."
Its breathing quickened.
Its wings flinched.
Still it dragged itself back—until its back struck the base of a tree, and it let out a soft, pained yelp.
Blood pooled beneath its flank.
I took another step forward.
It bared its teeth—but its body was too weak to defend itself.
Still… it was trying.
Fighting to survive.
Just like I had.
"I know what they did to you…" I said, my voice low, reverent.
The locket at my chest pulsed faintly.
The ashes of my kin responded to my voice.
To my intention.
"I'm not like them. I've lost everything too."
My hand hovered over the soil, open, offering—not demanding.
"Let me help you… Please."
I knelt slowly, lowering myself to its level—one careful motion at a time, as if approaching a dream that might vanish if disturbed.
The winged wolf trembled, its breath uneven, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow gasps.
Its eyes never left mine.
I extended my hand.
Not toward its wounds.Not toward its wings.
Just gently to the side of its neck, where the fur looked softer—less matted by blood.
My fingers brushed it—
And for a moment…
The beast didn't move.
Its fur was surprisingly warm.
Coarse near the spine, but softer near the throat. I could feel its pulse—rapid, panicked, but alive.
"I won't hurt you," I whispered again. "You're safe now."
The creature exhaled, its tense body loosening ever so slightly. Its head lowered.
For a heartbeat, I thought it might trust me.
Then—a flash.
A snarl tore through its throat and its paw slashed toward me.
Claws grazed my forearm—sharp, fast, but unsteady. Not meant to kill.
Just to push me away.
"Ah—!" I staggered back, hand clutched to my arm.
Blood welled beneath the torn fabric.
The beast let out a strangled cry, stumbled sideways—and collapsed.
Its body hit the ground with a dull thud, wings folding limply against the earth.
It tried to rise again—but only managed a twitch.
Its breath was rapid, irregular.
It was dying.
"No—no, no, no…" I muttered, rushing forward, ignoring the sting in my arm.
I fell to my knees beside it, placing my palm over its chest.
Its heart fluttered beneath my touch like a bird trapped in its cage.
Think, Vanessa. Think.
I had never healed a beast like this.
But I knew pain.
I knew suffering.
And I knew binding spells.
Not to trap… but to preserve.
To hold a soul together just long enough.
I opened my locket.
The ashes shimmered—responding to my call.
I whispered a bloodline invocation, ancient and barely remembered, woven into funerary rites… but reversed.
"Breath remain, blood return.Bind the soul to the bone,'Til light returns to the wounded sky."
A soft glow ignited beneath my palm.
The locket pulsed against my chest.
The ashes—the memories of my kin—flowed into the spell.
Not to replace.
But to sustain.
To hold this creature's fading essence together.
The winged wolf shuddered—its eyes flickering open.
Its breathing slowed.
Not healed…
But stabilized.
I slumped back, heart pounding, sweat dripping down my brow.
"I don't know who you are," I breathed, "or what did this to you…"
I looked down at it—its body still weak, but no longer fading.
"…but you're not dying today."
The forest had grown cold.
Mist clung to the ground in thin threads, curling around stone and root like soft fingers.
The winged wolf lay still beside me, breath low but steady—its massive body curled in on itself, wings draped like tattered cloaks across the moss. Blood no longer pooled, but the wounds were far from healed.
I sat close, wrapping my cloak around both of us, the corner draping gently over its side.
Its eyes were half-lidded now, flickering with uneasy sleep.
But it was alive.
I reached out slowly, brushing the tips of my fingers against the soft fur near its ear.
It flinched at first.
But didn't pull away.
"You know," I whispered, "I used to hate the night."
The wind stirred gently through the trees, as though listening.
"My chamber had a glass ceiling—so I could see the stars. But I used to pretend they were watching me. Judging me. Waiting for me to fail."
I smiled softly, more bitter than fond.
"My mother told me they weren't judges. They were memories. Souls of our ancestors watching over us."
I paused, eyes drifting to the canopy above—patches of starlight barely piercing the thick leaves.
"She said if I ever got lost… I could talk to them. And they'd answer me in dreams."
The creature let out a faint whine, chest rising, falling—its body finally calming.
I gently stroked the fur behind its jaw.
"You remind me of the old paintings in the prayer hall. The Mournwolf, they called it. A spirit that carried the souls of fallen warriors across the sky."
I tilted my head slightly. "Maybe that's why you're still here. You were trying to carry someone."
My voice dropped to a whisper.
"Maybe… that's why I'm still here, too."
Silence fell again.
The fire I had kindled earlier had dimmed, just glowing embers now. I fed it with small sticks, careful not to stir too much heat.
The winged wolf didn't move—but it no longer looked afraid.
"I don't know if you understand me…" I murmured, "but I'll stay here until morning."
I leaned against the beast's side gently, careful of its wings.
Its breath was warm.
Its body, slowly easing.
"You don't have to be alone."
Neither do I.
And there, in the heart of the old forest—two broken things lay side by side.
One, with fire in her blood.
The other, with starlight in its bones.
And for the first time since her kingdom fell—
Vanessa slept beside something living.