The wind whispered through the high ridges of the mountain, whistling past the trees like a lullaby sung by the island itself. Somewhere in those ancient woods, power slept, hidden beneath time and silence. But down near the cliff's edge, laughter echoed.
A small boy with wild white hair zipped through the tall grass barefoot, dirt dusting his cheeks and a playful fire gleaming in his eyes. Allen D. Walker—only two and a half years old, but already dangerous enough to make grown warriors wary—was racing after his father.
"One more time!" he shouted breathlessly. "Again!"
Hades D. Walker stood in the clearing's center, his long coat fluttering in the wind, black hair tied behind him. Calm as stone, he waited as Allen charged. The boy's fist gleamed with flickering traces of energy. He didn't know what to call it yet—it wasn't Haki, not fully—but it felt like it belonged to him.
As Allen threw a punch, Hades shifted just enough to avoid it. The boy stumbled past, groaning.
"You're too focused on the finish," Hades said, folding his arms. "What if I vanished halfway through? What if your enemy can fly?"
Allen pouted. "Then I'd punch the air real hard. And yell!"
A low chuckle escaped Hades. He crouched, brushing Allen's hair back. "One day, you'll punch so hard the sky trembles. But you must understand what you're holding before you unleash it."
"...What am I holding, Papa?" Allen asked quietly, little fists clenched.
Hades looked out toward the sea. For a moment, his eyes shimmered with something ancient. "Something older than the seas. A gift from the First Flame. But until you're ready, it's just fire."
Allen tilted his head. "And you, Papa? How strong are you? Are we... like... strong strong?"
Hades smirked. "There are monsters in this world who tear through mountains. I used to be one of them. But you, my little flame... you were born to be more."
---
That night, Allen couldn't sleep.
The moon hung like a silver coin in the sky, casting pale light across the island. He sat on the windowsill, hugging his knees, feeling a strange pull in his chest. Something was calling.
And it was crying.
Quietly, he slipped out of the room. Serena was asleep with Rin curled on her chest. The soft sound of her breathing grounded him—but the cry in the distance tugged at his soul.
He followed it.
The mountains behind their home were steep, but Allen had climbed them a dozen times. This time, though, he moved with purpose. The pull guided him—through branches and thorny brush, over rocks and roots—until he found it.
A small black wolf pup, barely alive.
Its fur was matted, covered in blood. One leg was twisted, and its breathing was sharp, shallow. Next to it lay another pup—already gone.
Allen dropped to his knees.
"You're... you're so small," he whispered.
The wolf growled weakly, baring its teeth. But even in its pain, it tried to stand between Allen and its fallen sibling. Protective. Proud.
"I'm not gonna hurt you... I promise. I just wanna help."
He reached out. The wolf snapped, but it was too weak. Allen scooped it into his arms gently, ignoring the scratches that tore at his skin.
Something inside him stirred.
A glow, faint and white, shimmered beneath his skin, and the wolf stopped struggling.
It looked up at him—those eyes… they weren't just wild. They understood.
---
Serena almost screamed when Allen stumbled back into the house, scratched up and bloodied, carrying a half-dead baby wolf.
"Allen! What did you—what is—?!"
"He was alone," Allen mumbled, tears still streaking down his face. "He was hurting, Mama. I couldn't leave him."
Serena covered her mouth, eyes softening. The wolf was unconscious, curled against Allen's chest.
Hades stepped in from the side, silent. He looked down, brow furrowed—but after a long pause, he nodded.
"He's got fire in him," Hades murmured. "Let him stay."
Rin, still half-asleep, toddled over and hugged the wolf's back leg. "Puppy."
"He needs a name," Allen said, looking at his parents. "A strong one. A name for a brother."
He turned to the sleeping pup and whispered, "Fenrir."
---
Later that night, Allen sat with the wolf wrapped in blankets. The pup's breathing had steadied, and Allen drifted into sleep.
He dreamed.
There was fire everywhere. A giant tree, burning from root to crown, and above it—a pair of wings. One white. One black. In the center floated a fruit, glowing, pulsing, alive.
The wolf stood beside him, no longer a pup, but a massive creature with molten eyes.
"Ashen One," the wolf whispered. "Should I speak?"
Allen gasped awake. The pup lifted its head slowly. Its mouth didn't move—but he heard it.
"Ashen... One."
---
The next morning, Serena wrapped a scarf around Fenrir's neck.
"You're family now," she said warmly. "You need a full name."
Hades grinned. "You picked him, little flame. Now he shares your fire."
Rin giggled, clapping her hands. "Fenrir D. Walker!
---
End of Chapter 13.