Many, many years later…
Stars pulsed under the starry night sky, each glow carrying meaning, even if that meaning was not known to most who gazed upon them. Yet, for those who gazed upon the stars, little did they know, the stars here gazed back.
The constellations of the sky looked at a humble house in a not so humble city which was the capital of a great kingdom. In the house, he slept
As to who 'he' was?
He was Fenrir.
Suddenly, he opened his eyes.
Fenrir sat up, chest heaving, breath ragged. Sweat glistened on his brow as he scanned the dim, unfamiliar attic.
"What in the fuck!?", he whisper-yelled to himself, his eyes darting around in confusion, taking in the foreign environment and atmosphere. He didn't remember coming here, to this… weird german looking attic. Why was he in an attic? What was going on?
He kicked off the lumpy stack of hay that passed for a bed, rubbing at his arms as straw scratched his skin. The place smelled of dust and damp wood, was he in a barn or something?
He stumbled to a warped window, cracked and crooked. Through it, he glimpsed the night sky. The stars calmed him, but something still felt off.
"I could've sworn I died", he muttered. "That shithead stabbed me in the neck!", Fenrir spoke to himself. Yet, Fenrir in reality, had not died. He never had. Matter of fact, Fenrir had never even been in a life or death situation.
"Wait, Fenrir? I'm not_"
Fenrir gasped.His hands shot up to his head. Panic flared in his chest as he touched fur, not hair. And then… two pointed protrusions.
"Are these- Animal ears? I'm not some fucking furry like Alex"
Even if there was humour in his words, his tone was nothing if not panicked. His hand ruffled his hair, his face looking as if he were about to cry.
Then,
Something shifted.
Not in the room.
but rather, In him.
Memories. Thoughts. A presence.
Until now, it had been Guy- the one talking, thinking, panicking. But now… now something was bleeding through. Someone.
Fenrir.
He was Fenrir.
Sole son of Jack.
Son to Layla, wife of Jack.
He was-
"I'm a fucking wolf demi-human!?" he whisper-screamed again, trying not to wake anyone. No, wait, Jack. His father. His new father. Would he be angry? Was he violent?
He didn't know. Everything was still blurry.
Fenrir swallowed hard, his throat dry. Something about the way his tongue rested felt off. It didn't fit right in his mouth anymore. His teeth were too sharp, too angled. He ran his tongue along them and felt a wave of discomfort, like his entire face had been subtly rearranged.
The walls felt like they were closing in.
He needed air.
Without thinking, he moved toward the window, if you could even call it that. It was more like a half-rotted hole in the wall. The frame was crooked, the wood splintered and soft. It barely held up the patch of warped glass wedged into it.
"Shambly piece of shit house," he muttered, hoisting himself up and carefully vaulting through the opening.
His foot slipped, and for a heart-pounding second he almost fell, but he caught himself, stumbling as he landed awkwardly on the dirt below. Gravel crunched underfoot. He stayed low, crouching near the edge of the house, catching his breath.
Then he looked up.
The buildings nearby were falling apart, their wooden beams jutting out like broken ribs. Doors hung off hinges, and the faint smell of rot clung to the air. This was a slum, no doubt about it. A place forgotten by prosperity.
But beyond that,
His eyes widened.
In the distance, built into the slope of a vast hill, rose a grand cityscape. Layered rows of stone buildings curved upward, bathed in moonlight. Lanterns flickered like stars on the ground, guiding the roads that spiraled toward a towering castle in the center. Its ramparts gleamed, built from pale stone, and long banners swayed gently in the breeze.
He, Guy, had been reborn, either into or as Fenrir-he didn't know.
Fenrir had great eyesight apparently… He saw the far away buildings with great clarity.
"At least the air is fresh…", he said absentmindedly, trying to ignore the tinge of dogshit in the air.
Still, even that didn't compare to the confusion clawing at his chest.
Fenrir had a conflicted look on his face, he looked down, eyes glistening."What the fuck am I gonna do?", he said, voice quivering.