Fate of the Wolf
by L. Shannon
From the beginning to the end, life changes, revolves but who is it that turns the wheel of time? How is it decided when one time must end and rebirth is needed? Who holds strength and power enough to turn the wheel and who the wisdom to signal the change? Like all birth, with it comes pain and destruction. What if his hand is already upon the wheel...
unedited
Excerpt
A nudge. A poke. A stab into his sleeping mind, tearing away the thin tendrils of peace that he had fought so hard to weave. A single tear in his shell and in seeped that voice that was most hated.
‘Wake, child. We have tasks to accomplish.’
Dàn pulled into himself and tried to close the breach. The tear widened and he pulled harder to close it against the one who spoke. Trying to return to the healing quiet, the solitary black.
‘Wake and we shall finally free Loki, the father who has suffered enough for sins not his own.’
He had to get away... He searched for the darkness that was once his shield, his protection but the darkness was gone leaving only the voice and the pain it caused him. The ripping from within as the voice seduced the beast that he was. The pain as each word, vile and manipulating rang true to his battered soul.
‘Wake and we will bring this sham of an existence to a close. Wake.’
There was no escape. The pain was never-ending. The world deserved what it got for allowing such evil as what he had seen in his lifetime.
“No!” That was not the way. There was good within man. Yes evil too but good that was worth the sacrifice, worth the effort to save. The voice was wrong. Jormangund was wrong. The cost was too great to free Loki. That time had not yet come.
‘Yess, it is the time. Rise and join me!’
“I will never join you.” Dàn panted with the effort to restrain his flaring anger. Why could they not leave him in peace? Why must they torment him? Why did it always fall to him to protect the world? Why?
Suddenly the anger was beyond his control, beyond his body, beyond any constraint. His fiery wrath burst forth in bolt of destruction. But this once it was directed at the source, at the voice. Every particle of his being cried out in the pain that coiled within him, all of it found release in the destruction. and the destruction felt good...
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cover art elements are property of artists and used here only for inspiration
