I was left alone at the base of the monolithic stone with Roan and his wolf. The clearing was almost empty now. Only a handful of aspirants remained, their faces etched with dawning despair as no call came. I recognized the haunted woman, the lanky boy. They stood huddled together, their eyes darting frantically towards the trees, hoping for a summons that didn't come. My stomach clenched. This was the other side of the culling. Survival wasn't enough. You had to be chosen.
Roan glanced at me for a moment then walked over, his movements fluid and assured, the wolf following at his heel like a shadow. He settled onto the cool moss beside me, the wolf immediately lying down, its massive head resting on its paws, golden eyes watchful.
"You look like you're waiting for an executioner, not a wolf," he said, his voice low and steady, a stark contrast to the rasping agony of hours before.
I managed a weak smile, wrapping my arms around my knees. "Feels a bit like it. Watching everyone else get called... it's unsettling." I nodded towards the small, huddled group across the clearing – the haunted woman, the lanky boy, a few others whose hope was visibly draining away with each passing minute. "What if... what if that's it? What if I just don't have it?" The words tasted bitter.
Roan followed my gaze, then looked back at me, his expression thoughtful. "It doesn't work like that, Iris. It's not about having 'it' or not. It's..." He paused, searching for the words, his hand unconsciously drifting to rest on the thick fur of his wolf.
"It starts like a pull," he began, his voice dropping into a near-whisper, as if describing something sacred. "Deep inside. Not in your head, not even really in your heart. Lower. In your gut. In your bones. It's… insistent. Like gravity suddenly decided it only wanted you, pulling you in one specific direction. You can't ignore it. Trying to is like trying to hold your breath underwater forever. Your whole body rebels."
He closed his eyes for a moment, reliving it. "You don't think. You just go. The pain…" He touched his bandaged shoulder lightly. "It was still there. Aching, burning. But it was… distant. Like noise outside a closed door. The pull was the only thing that mattered. The only thing that was real." He opened his eyes, meeting mine. There was a profound intensity in them now. "It wasn't fear driving me. It wasn't even hope. It was just… inevitability. Like walking towards the only place you were ever meant to be, For me, it was her. Akira."
I shivered, despite the growing light. "And then? When you found it… her?" I nodded towards the gray wolf.
A genuine smile, warm and utterly unlike his usual grim expression, touched Roan's lips. "Then… it changes. The pull stops being a demand. It becomes… recognition." He stroked the wolf's fur. "Like seeing a face you've known your whole life in a dream, finally standing before you in the waking world. There's no hesitation. No doubt. You just… know."
He fell silent for a beat, gathering his thoughts. "The bond… it snaps into place. Not like a chain locking, but…" He struggled again. "Like a missing piece clicking home deep inside. A connection that wasn't there before, suddenly is. And it's… solid. Unbreakable." He tapped his chest. "You feel her here. Her presence. Her strength. Her… essence. It's not thoughts, not words. It's… knowing. Knowing her heartbeat is yours. Knowing her breath is yours. Knowing the ground beneath her paws is the ground you stand on."
He looked down at the wolf, his expression one of pure, quiet awe. "The pain vanished. Not because the wound healed instantly – it didn't, not completely," he gestured to the bandage, "but because it didn't matter anymore. It was insignificant noise compared to… this." He spread his hand slightly over the wolf's head. "It's peace. And power. And belonging. All rolled into one. It's… home."
His words hung in the air, painting a picture of something profound, beautiful and utterly alien to my current state of anxious waiting. A pang of longing, sharp and unexpected, lanced through me. Not just for a wolf, but for that certainty, that connection, that sense of finally being anchored.
"It sounds… incredible," I whispered, my voice thick.
"It is," Roan said simply. He looked out towards the trees where Marco and Zale had disappeared. "They'll feel it too. Different, maybe. Their wolves, their bonds… but the core of it, that pull, that click, that knowing… that's the same." He turned his intense gaze back to me. "Don't doubt it will come for you, Iris. When it does, you won't be able to miss it. And you won't want to. Besides, If there's anyone I know who'd for certain be a bonded rider, It's you, Iris. All you have to do is trust yourself."
I didn't say anything and he fell silent again, radiating a calm confidence that was both comforting and somehow isolating. Except, I know Roan is so terribly going to be disappointed. I hugged my knees tighter, staring at the trampled grass. Home. Belonging. The ache for Flynn intensified, tangled with this new, unfamiliar yearning Roan had described. Joining the army suddenly felt like settling for crumbs when a feast might be waiting. But what if the feast never came?
A pang of loneliness, sharp and unexpected, pierced through my exhaustion. Roan was standing beside his wolf, Marco and Zale were out there, finding theirs. A bleak thought surfaced: If I don't bond, I'll be sent to the regular army. I'll find Flynn there. It wouldn't be so bad. The rationalization felt hollow, a thin bandage over a deeper wound. Truth was, I wanted to be among them, have a wolf of my own, be the shield of my people.
Just as the despair of the remaining aspirants became palpable, a ripple of movement stirred at the edge of the clearing opposite the stone. Six Volanema wolves emerged from the pines. They were magnificent – powerful builds, thick pelts in shades of iron grey, russet brown, deep charcoal, and stormy gray. Their intelligent eyes scanned the remaining humans – the desperate few waiting for a sign.
My gaze swept over them. Impressive, yes. But... nothing. No pull. No silent voice whispering in my blood. No resonance deep in my bones. My shoulders slumped slightly. So that was it. I was among the unchosen. I should braced myself for the shame, the dismissal, the long march towards the life of a foot soldier.
But the wolves didn't approach the others. Instead, they fanned out in a loose semicircle, their focus not on the hopeful aspirants, but... on me. Their gazes – intelligent, ancient, and unnervingly direct – locked onto my position near the stone. Six pairs of eyes, glowing with internal fire, pinned me where I stood. Confusion warred with a sudden, inexplicable spike of adrenaline. Why me? I felt no call from any of them.
Then, as one, they stepped aside.
The space they cleared wasn't empty. From the deep gloom of the pines behind them, another shape emerged.
It wasn't large. It was enormous. A Volanema wolf, but unlike any I'd ever seen depicted or described. Its pelt was the purest, deepest black, like the void between stars, absorbing the weak dawn light rather than reflecting it. It stood significantly taller than Akira, muscles rippling beneath its midnight fur like coiled power beneath volcanic rock. Its head was massive, broad, crowned by ears that stood rigidly alert. And its eyes... they weren't gold, or amber, or obsidian. They were blue—an eerie, glacial blue that seemed to glow from within, like ice lit by lightning, yet holding a depth and intelligence that felt ancient, fathomless, and terrifyingly aware. It moved with a silent, lethal grace that made the ground itself seem to yield beneath its massive paws.
It stopped just beyond the semicircle of the other wolves, its obsidian gaze fixing solely on me. Seeing through me.
A strange feeling crept up within me.
It wasn't a sound. It wasn't a voice. It was a presence. A vast, deep, resonant hum that vibrated in the marrow of my bones, in the chambers of my heart. It was the rumble of distant thunder given sentience, the pull of the deepest ocean current, the silent scream of a star collapsing. It wasn't calling me forward. It was demanding acknowledgment. It was a force of nature given fur and fang, and its attention was an inescapable gravity, pulling at the very core of my being. The air crackled, thick with unspoken power. The central stone itself seemed to thrum in resonance.
The other wolves lowered their heads slightly, a gesture of profound deference. Roan's gray wolf let out a soft, respectful whine. Roan himself stared, his earlier composure replaced by pure awe.
Every instinct screamed to run, to hide, to prostrate myself. This wasn't a bond offered. It was a challenge issued by the night itself. The hum intensified, vibrating in my teeth, resonating in the hollow of my chest. It wasn't asking. It was waiting.
My breath hitched. My hands, slick with cold sweat, clenched into fists at my sides. The path to the army, to Flynn, suddenly seemed like a distant dream. This... this was the precipice.
The glacial eyes held mine, unblinking. The choice wasn't mine to make. The call had come. And it came from the darkness made manifest.