LOGIN
Saxa
The blinding pain is the first thing to register as my eyes begin to open. It hits me in crashing waves, something that swallows every other sensation. My vision is a foggy smear of color and shadows. My ears ring so loudly it’s like a fire alarm is screaming from inside my skull. Every inch of me aches—no, it burns—with a pain so sharp it feels like my bones have been snapped at every point then forced back into place a hundred different ways.
And no, I’m not just being dramatic.
What the hell is happening to me?
My breath catches as the view finally begins to come into focus.
Chains, thick metal cuffs clamped tight around my wrists. My arms ache from being suspended for—god knows how long. I can’t even tell if it’s day or night. There’s no light peaking in from anywhere, which means no windows.
Great.
There’s just a dim flickering torchlight licking at dirt-covered stone.
Fuck.
Am I locked in a cage? Or would it be considered a dungeon?
Wait, why the hell am I arguing with myself about what to call this place?”
Focus, Saxa.
Panic clutches my chest as I yank against the restraints.
No give.
The chains are bolted to the wall behind me, thick enough to hold back a bear. My wrists are already bruised and bloodied, and every movement makes the cuffs dig deeper into my skin.
I’m shackled, in a cage, underground.
I force myself to take a few ragged breaths, trying to keep the rising wave of hysteria from crashing over me. There’s dirt under my feet, not concrete.
Damp, cold soil packed beneath my toes. I scan the chamber, throat tight.
Tunnels, at least four of them. Hollowed-out holes carved into the eastern walls. They’re wide—easily big enough for someone to crawl through. Some disappear into shadows so deep that I can’t see the end of it.
Maybe they lead out, maybe I could escape through one. Maybe—
I stop myself, it doesn’t matter if they go somewhere. I’m not getting to them unless I get out of the chains first. And that’s not going to be easy.
There’s a large iron door across the room. Heavy, bolted. A thin crack of light spills in from underneath it, faint but real. That could be a way out too, or just another trap.
My pulse spikes again. The silence is thick—too thick. Not peaceful, but watchful. Like the darkness itself is holding its breath.
Then I hear it, the screams.
Far off at first.
Sharp and ragged, like someone being torn apart. My heart jumps into my throat. The sounds grow louder, closer. Until it echoes off the walls and vibrates through my bones. It’s not just someone crying out—it’s someone dying.
The chains rattle as I instinctively pull back, cowering into the wall. My breath comes fast and shallow, my eyes dart across the chamber.
And then I see them.
Eyes.
The same eyes that have been haunting me since I was a little girl.
Red-rimmed, glowing faintly from the far corner. Watching me. Studying me. They don’t blink, they never do. They stay, watching, waiting.
The rest of the thing is hidden in shadow, but the shape is all wrong. Too tall, too angular. Wrong proportions. It’s not human, and every instinct in my body is screaming at me to run—but I can’t. I can’t even move.
It doesn’t speak, it doesn’t need to.
‘You’re next,’ its eyes seem to promise.
And I believe it.
I start thrashing against the chains, my pain long forgotten, fueled by nothing but pure terror. The metal bites hard into my skin, and I barely register the warm trickle of blood running down my forearms.
Get out.
Get out.
GET OUT.
The red eyed creature takes a step forward. I can hear it now—its breathing. Raspy. Wet.Something drags behind it, scraping against the floor.
This is it.
I’m going to die down here, I’m going to die before anyone even realizes that I’m gone.
Gran doesn’t even know that I left the house. She thinks I’m in bed, curled up under the covers, sleeping off a late night with friends.
She’ll come up the stairs in the morning to find my bed made and room empty, and she’ll think I ran…
Tears prick at the corner of my eyes, I don’t want to die like this. Not in the dark, not without saying goodbye.
My head whips towards the sound of metal crashing against the stone, squinting against a sudden burst of light. The door I saw before was pried off the hinges, laying crumped against the floor, a bright light pours in. For a second, I think help has come. Rescue, a guard, something.
But the red-eyed thing screeches—an ear splitting, rage filled howl—and launches a body across the room towards the door.
A man.
Limp, bloody, lifeless.
The figure in the doorway doesn’t flinch.
But then I see it.
A wolf.
Or—something like one.
Definitely something massive. The only thing I can make out are the eyes, they gleam with something more than animal instinct—something like intelligence. Purpose.
It lowers its head and growls, deep and guttural, without another moment of hesitation the red-eyed creature bolts towards one of the tunnels, vanishing into the dark.
The wolf steps into the room, snarling, steam rising off its body in the cold night air.
I can’t breathe.
The wolf turns its head, and for the briefest second—just before the world starts tilting and the darkness swallows me whole—our eyes meet, and I swear to god…
It looks like it knows me.
Beneath the MountainSaxaSomething beneath us wakes.Not metaphorically, not emotionally, not in some distant magical shift humming quietly through the system.Something real.The moment the convergence locks into place between Elias and I, the entire valley reacts like a living thing inhaling for the first time in centuries.The threads pulse again, just once.Hard.Every glowing line beneath the snow flashes blinding white, racing through the forest and into the mountain faster than lightning.And then—Everything stops.No tremors.No roaring.No movement.Silence crashes over the clearing so suddenly it makes my ears ring.Every creature freezes, every wolf, every thread.The entire world holds still. Beside me Elias goes rigid, his fingers tightening painfully around mine. His pupils blow wide as the glyph beneath his skin begins to burn brighter than I’ve ever seen it.“Saxa,” he whispers.But his voice sounds wrong. Distant.Like he’s hearing something I can’t.The mountain a
The Valley ChangesSaxaNo one moves after the creature speaks.The valley seems to freeze around us. Snow drifts slowly through the clearing, glowing faintly silver where the threads burn beneath the ground.The malformed wolf lies motionless at the creature's feet, his breath ragged but growing more steady.Alive.That should feel like a relief, but it doesn’t.Because the thing kneeling beside him just fixed something none of us understood.And it did effortlessly.Eirik steps forward carefully. Every muscle in his body is tense.Protective.Ready to kill if he has to.The creature turns its silver eyes toward him.Not hostile.Just watching.Learning. The threads around its hands dim slowly.Gran drops beside the injured wolf immediately, her hands trembling as she checks his pulse.“He’s stable,” she whispers.Ingrid stares at the creature. “You just… healed him?”The creature tilts its head slightly.“he … tearing.”Its voice sounds smoother now.Less broken.Like every word tea
The Ones Who WonderSaxaThe creatures don’t stop at the ridge, that’s the first thing that goes wrong.The second is the wolves.Because the moment the boundary pulses again, every wolf in the clearing reacts.Not together, differently.Tobin doubles over first. A sharp curse tears from his throat as he grabs the side of his head. Two others behind him stumble backward violently, claws ripping halfway through their fingertips before snapping back.Ingrid’s eyes widen. “What the hell?”Another pulse rolls through the valley, the threads flare yet again. And somewhere deeper in the forest—Wolves start howling.Not one.Not two.But dozens.My stomach drops. Eirik hears it too, his head jerking to the treeline instantly.“That’s not patrol.”“No,” Kaia says quietly. Her eyes remaining fixed on the mountain, “it’s spreading.”The words settle cold in my chest, because I can feel it now. The system isn’t centered in the clearing anymore.The threads are moving outward, through the valley,
The Boundary that BreaksSaxaThe mountain stops waiting, the moment the thought finishes forming in my mind—The heart pulses again.Hard.The shockwave rolls through the valley like thunder trapped under stone. Snow bursts from the ridge in glittering clouds. The threads beneath the clearing flare so bright the ground looks like it’s made of fractured starlight.Elias gasps, “Okay, yeah, that might be worse.”The glyph beneath his shirt begins burning again, not violently like before. But just as intense. Ike the system just grabbed hold of him and refused to let go. Gran tightens her grip on his shoulder. “You cannot keep channeling this much power.”Elias lets out a strained laugh. “Pretty sure the mountain isn’t asking for my permission.”The creatures on the ridge begin moving again, but differently this time. Not all toward the heart.Some stop, turn.Looking back towards the clearing, toward me.The threads react instantly.Every glowing strand connected to those creatures tig
The Heart's CommandSaxaThe pull becomes unbearable. Not immediately, not violently, it just builds like a tide dragging everything in the valley slowly toward the same point.The mountain, the threads tightening beneath the snow, glowing lines stretching toward the ridge like veins leading back to a single beating heart.Elias stumbles beside me. “Okay—yeah—I’m definitely feeling that now.”His voice is strained but steadier than it was earlier, the glyph beneath his shirt burns a bright silver, but it’s not tearing him apart anymore. It’s guiding him.Gran notices immediately, “that’s wrong.”Kaia’s gaze flicks toward Elias, “no.” she whispers. “It’s functioning.”Gran whips her head sharply, “functioning?”Kaia gestures toward the ridge where the light continues to pour from the split seam in the mountain. “The system is trying to complete its alignment.”The threads pulse around us again, harder.The pull inside my chest begins to sharpen as my breath catches. I can feel the direc
The Pull of the HeartSaxaThe mountain eventually stops roaring.That is somehow worse.The sudden silence spreads across the valley like a held breath, the kind that comes just before something breaks.The threads beneath the snow tighten.All of them.Not violently.Not chaotically.Deliberately.Like something enormous just wrapped its fingers around every line of power running through the valley.Elias inhales sharply beside me.“…that’s new.”The glyph beneath his shirt pulses again, brighter than before but steadier than it had been when the system was tearing him apart.This time the light doesn’t flare outward.It pulls.The threads react instantly.Every glowing strand shifts direction.Toward the mountain.The creatures standing in the clearing feel it too.The seven that turned toward me stiffen, their silver eyes snapping toward the ridge as the pull tightens through the system.The others—those already walking toward the mountain—don’t hesitate.They begin moving faster.
Ghosts of the PackSaxaThe first thing I notice when I wake is the quiet. No forest whispering in my ears, no dream fragments clawing at my skull. Just warm sheets, with the faint scent of cedar and something like smoke. It takes me a moment to remember where I am.The bed is empty, my fingers brus
The Pack Beneath the PaintSaxaI couldn’t be in that house for another second, not with Gran pretending like she didn’t just shatter everything I believed about my life. Not with the weight of all her secrets still pressing in around me like a sticky fog. So we walk, through the trees. Past the sto
The BetrayerKasper; beforeThe snow beneath our bare feet is deeper tonight. It swallows Eira’s feet with every step, clinging to the bottom of her cloak, her eyelashes, the edges of her breath as she stumbles through the trees, but through it all she never complains. I can see the tremble in her h
The Weight of it AllSaxaEirik’s eyes don’t leave mine. Everything is still, no forest whisper. No ancient feeling surging through my bones. Just the two of us, sitting in the dim light of the kitchen floor, breathing the same shattered air.His hands reach for mine—slow, steady—and when his finger







