The moon hung low, swollen and heavy over the treetops, casting pale streaks of silver across the forest path. Lyon walked in silence, each step crunching over dried leaves and twigs, though his focus wasn't on the road ahead—it was inward, sinking deeper into himself than ever before.
Master Eryndor walked a short distance in front of him, his cloak brushing the ground, his presence as quiet and ancient as the forest itself. Kael followed closely behind Lyon, glancing around with the nervous watchfulness of someone who expected danger to leap from between the trees at any moment.
None of them spoke.
Not after what they had seen.
Not after what Lyon had become.
At last, after a long stretch of quiet footsteps and snapping branches, Kael cleared his throat.
"Lyon," he said carefully, "back in the cabin… the power you released… was that truly the Fragment waking?"
Lyon didn't answer immediately. His mind replayed the moment—the sensation of something unfathomable clawing up from his soul, the heat of it, the weight of it. A pulse older than him, heavier than life, awake beneath his skin.
The first Fragment.
Yet somehow, it didn't feel foreign.
It felt like something that had always been there—waiting.
"I don't know," Lyon finally replied. "But it felt like something inside me opened. Like a door I didn't know existed."
Kael swallowed. "And you don't feel… afraid?"
Lyon lifted his hand. The faint residue of crimson energy flickered for a moment across his knuckles—soft, barely visible, but undeniably real.
"I did," he admitted. "But now? I feel like… like this is the first time I'm actually alive."
Kael said nothing. His silence spoke louder than any fear he could have voiced.
Eryndor stopped walking.
The old wolf turned his head slightly, eyes glinting in the moonlight. "Good. Fear is natural, but clarity is better. And you will need both for what comes next."
Lyon stepped forward. "Where exactly are we going?"
"To the Ruin of Ashes," Eryndor said. "The place where the Order once attempted to seal the Primordial Wolf—the being whose bloodline you now carry."
Lyon stiffened. "So this is no longer just about me being reborn."
"No," Eryndor said.
"It never was."
He continued walking, forcing Lyon and Kael to keep pace.
"Your death was no accident. The Order didn't come after you because you were weak. They came because they sensed the dormant bloodline in you—something forbidden, something they fear."
Kael shivered. Lyon clenched his jaw.
"So they killed the old me… because I was a threat even before awakening?"
Eryndor nodded once. "And now that you've awakened the first Fragment… the real hunt will begin."
Lyon exhaled slowly.
The real hunt.
The cloaked visitor's words echoed in his head:
"Every hunter in the Order will feel it."
He tightened his fists.
Let them come.
But before he could sink deeper into determination, Eryndor suddenly raised a hand.
"Stop."
Lyon and Kael froze.
Eryndor lowered his voice. "We've been followed since we left the cabin."
Kael's eyes widened. "By who?"
Lyon didn't have to ask.
He already knew.
"Hunters?"
Eryndor nodded.
"Three. Young, reckless. The Order sends novices first to test the strength of a newly awakened Bloodline Heir. If you fall to them, they deem you unworthy. If you survive…" His mouth curved in a humorless smile. "The real predators come next."
Kael's breathing grew fast and sharp. "Three hunters? Master, should we run?"
"No," Eryndor said calmly. "We test Lyon."
Lyon blinked. "Wait—you want me to face them?"
"Yes," Eryndor replied. "But you will not fight them with brute strength. You will learn to wield your Fragment—or die trying."
Kael stepped forward urgently. "Master, he's not ready!"
Eryndor looked at Lyon—not with kindness, nor with pressure, but with certainty.
"He is."
Lyon's heartbeat quickened.
He wasn't afraid.
He wasn't excited.
He wasn't unsure.
He was simply aware—as if the air around him had thickened, tuning itself to something ancient inside him.
"Where are they?" Lyon asked quietly.
Eryndor pointed behind them—toward the darker stretch of forest.
"Here."
A twig snapped.
A rustle followed.
Then—
Three figures stepped out from the trees, each wearing the dark, smoke-colored cloak of the Order. Their masks hid their faces, but Lyon could feel their intent. Sharp. Focused. Like three daggers pointed toward his heart.
The one in the middle stepped forward.
"So it's true," the hunter said through the mask. "The Fragment has awakened. And you—" he pointed straight at Lyon "—are the abomination marked to carry it."
Kael growled. "Watch your mouth—!"
But Eryndor raised a hand, silencing him.
"This is Lyon's trial."
Lyon stepped forward.
He felt no fear—not the shaking, breath-snatching fear he once knew.
Instead, the Fragment inside him stirred—slow, deliberate, ancient.
The lead hunter moved first.
He dashed forward with inhuman speed, closing the distance in a blink, his blade catching the moonlight as he swung at Lyon's chest—
And Lyon moved.
He didn't think.
He didn't plan.
His body simply responded—fast, natural, instinctive.
He ducked, twisted, and the blade sliced through empty air.
The hunter stumbled past him.
Kael's jaw dropped. "What—Lyon, where did you learn to move like that?!"
Lyon didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
The Fragment pulsed again.
The second hunter lunged from Lyon's left.
The third from his right.
And something inside him snapped awake.
Time slowed.
He saw their movements—every muscle shift, every breath, every angle of attack—like threads glowing in the darkness, paths of motion he could weave through.
He stepped forward—then vanished in a blur.
A shockwave burst behind him.
The two hunters collided with each other instead of him.
Eryndor's eyes narrowed in approval. "Good. The Fragment grants instinctive combat awareness. Use it."
Lyon faced the first hunter again.
This time, he didn't dodge.
He stepped in, grabbed the hunter's wrist, and twisted.
A crack echoed through the forest.
The hunter screamed.
Another movement.
Another twist.
Another impact.
And the first hunter fell to his knees—disarmed, defeated.
The second and third recovered quickly and circled him, their movements more cautious now.
"You're faster than reports said," one of them hissed.
"You're stronger," the other added.
Lyon didn't respond.
But the Fragment did.
A faint glow bled into Lyon's eyes—crimson, subtle, but unmistakable.
Kael stepped back in fear. "Lyon… your eyes…"
Eryndor folded his arms. "Let it take shape. Do not resist it."
The second hunter attacked again—this time with a flurry of swings, faster, sharper, aimed to kill.
But Lyon didn't even need to move.
The Fragment moved for him.
He lifted his hand, catching the blade between two fingers.
Kael gasped.
The hunter's eyes widened behind the mask.
Lyon squeezed.
The blade shattered like glass.
With a fluid motion, Lyon drove his palm into the hunter's chest—sending him flying into a tree trunk with a thud.
Only one remained.
The third hunter hesitated.
Lyon felt his fear.
He smelled it.
It made something feral curl inside him—something old, buried in bloodline and instinct.
The hunter stepped back slowly.
"You… you're not supposed to be this strong already…"
Lyon took a step forward.
Then another.
The hunter turned to run.
Coward.
The thought wasn't Lyon's—but it flowed through him like a whisper from the ancient past.
He didn't chase. He simply raised his hand.
Crimson energy gathered around his fingers.
The hunter screamed—
—and Eryndor snapped his cane sharply against the ground.
"Enough."
The energy vanished.
Lyon blinked, his breath coming fast. His fists trembled.
Not from exhaustion.
But from the intoxicating rush of power.
Eryndor stepped between Lyon and the fallen hunter.
"Control," he said firmly. "Power without restraint is destruction. And destruction without purpose is weakness."
Lyon inhaled deeply.
The crimson flicker in his eyes dimmed.
The hunter scrambled away, grabbed his two unconscious companions, and vanished into the forest, dragging them as best he could.
Kael let out a long breath. "Lyon… you tore through them like they were nothing."
Lyon flexed his hands, watching the last trace of crimson fade.
"It felt… natural," he murmured.
Eryndor nodded. "That is why you must learn discipline. The Primordial Blood gives strength beyond logic, but it also carries echoes of ancient instincts—aggression, dominance, annihilation. If you cannot control them, the Order will not need to kill you."
Lyon looked up. "Why?"
"Because you will destroy yourself."
Silence settled.
Lyon clenched his fists.
He understood.
He had power—immense power—but also a monster lurking beneath it. And if he didn't master it, the Order wouldn't have to erase him.
He would erase himself.
Eryndor turned and began walking again.
"Come. The Ruin of Ashes awaits. And when we arrive, Lyon Kade… your real training begins."
Lyon followed—heart steady, mind sharp.
The road ahead was no longer just survival.
It was transformation.
The road of no return.