A Wolf's Howl, A Fairy's Wing

In the early morning quiet of Frostvik, a lone, solemn figure knelt next to a grave. It was a strange grave, as a beautiful blue flower bloomed on top of it, while a similarly colored aura covered the entirety of it.

The figure extended his hand and touched the grave, without being hindered by the aura. "I'm not sure when, or if, I'll be able to return Dad," the man, obviously Erik, mumbled to himself. "But it was good seeing you again. I promise I'll reunite with Mom and avenge you."

He remained in that position for a few moments longer, before he stood up and turned towards the direction he knew the unwelcome visitors would soon be appearing from.

By now, it had been a mere ten minutes since Elora had awoken Erik. Assuming Frosfang and the unknown man representing the council walked casually, or at least, as casually as second and third-rank Runebound shapeshifters could, they would arrive in at most another five minutes.

He took his place at the head of the graveyard, which was placed in the middle of town, just before the community building.

His gaze was resolute as he looked towards the hole that Emily had created in the wall when they first arrived here.

The first light of dawn casts long shadows, painting the scene with a stark contrast of light and dark. His pitch-black, onyx-colored heavy armor, gleaned faintly under the nascent light.

His short, silver-gray hair danced lightly in the wind, while his piercing amber eyes scanned the horizon.

He looked lonely and desolate, standing there in the middle of a deserted, snow-covered town, with a graveyard as his backdrop. He took his hammer out of the storage space and planted the head on the ground in front of him, ensuring he was prepared for anything.

He now looked like a true gatekeeper, there to stem the tide, whatever it may bring.

Of course, he wasn't actually alone, as Elora was inside his soul, and three women were anxiously looking at his back from inside the house. All three of them would prefer to stand by his side, but they, too, knew there was nothing they could do against a third-rank.

Their only choice was to follow Elora's directions and hope for the best.

Finally, two figures appeared to climb through the hole in the fence and panned their gazes toward Erik. They appeared surprised, as they hadn't seen this man when they looked down on the village from above.

"Did he somehow notice our arrival?" Frostfang mumbled, more to himself than as a question to Victor.

"I don't see how," Victor answered anyway. "I'm blocking my scent through the use of a sigil, and you can do that naturally with your ability as a third-rank Runebound."

"You say that, and yet he's so clearly waiting for us…" Frostfang answered. "I suppose this day might prove to be quite interesting."

They began to walk in Erik's direction. Snow crunching under their boots, which softly echoed through the silent, and deserted town. Frostfang's gaze shortly lingered on the graveyard behind Erik's back, his thoughts unknown.

As they neared, more details of Erik's face became apparent, causing Victor to grow more excited the closer they came.

Frostfang noticed his changes in expression and raised an eyebrow. "I'm guessing this man is one of the people you're looking for?"

Without losing his excitement, Victor shook his head in denial, "Sort of, but not really. I want two of his companions most of all. One woman with black hair, and black eyes, and another woman with crimson hair and green eyes. Both looking no older than 25."

Frostfang nodded in acknowledgment and kept walking as he suddenly sniffed the air. "Something is weird about this guy, though.," he said. "His weapon and stance are screaming Runebound at me, yet he's clearly not a vampire, and that armor would stop him from transforming."

"Plus," he sniffed the air again, "Why can't I smell him?"

Victor shrugged and chuckled, clearly knowing more than he was letting on, "Since I can hide my smell, why wouldn't he be able to?"

Naturally, it was Elora hiding Erik's smell, but Victor actually assumed Erik was using sigils for this, just like him. Either way, however, he was not yet ready to reveal Elora's ability with sigils to Frostfang.

The third-rank werewolf snorted with annoyance at Victor remaining quiet, but there was nothing he could do, so he just kept walking.

While they inspected Erik, he did the same to them, mostly focusing on Frostfang.

"That council stooge seems like any other second-rank shapeshifter," he said to Elora through their link. "Instead, Frostfang is far more interesting. Unless you can pick up something on that second-rank that makes him more interesting?"

Elora's reply was negative. "Nope, he seems entirely unremarkable. Frostfang is definitely more interesting. What do we know of him?"

"Well," Erik began, thoughtfully, "Supposedly, he's a fanatic admirer and follower of my mother, and he gained a mysterious boost in power after she left to pursue Edda. He cares about little more than her and the Enclave, which she entrusted him to take care of in her absence. He's also a werewolf with the ice affinity, just like me."

"Right…" Elora responded and seemed in thought. "I wonder if his fanatic admiration ever stepped into the realm of something more."

With his father's grave in his back, that possibility naturally made Erik both uncomfortable and angry. "So what?" he slightly growled. "Even if it did, Mom would never accept his feelings."

Elora didn't mind his tone. She felt his anger being directed towards Frostfang, after all.

So she simply answered his question. "I didn't say she would. But regardless of whether he truly is loyal to your mother; if he's also in love with her, then meeting the child she had with another man might just put him in a bad mood."

Erik's eyebrow twitched at the idea of getting killed by Frostfang out of petty jealousy. But before he could retort, Elora continued, "We can't avoid him finding out your identity, and in fact, I think it is more likely to be beneficial than not. I'm just saying we need to be careful."

Still feeling a little uncomfortable, Erik looked at Frostfang, while doing everything he could to keep his hostility from entering his face. 'If you dare to harbor less than pure intentions towards Mom, you're going on my shit-list.' Erik thought to himself.

Outwardly, he took a deep breath and seemed to calm down a little, while answering Elora. "You're right, Elora. Thank you."

It had still only been a few seconds since Frostfang and Victor entered the town, but they almost reached Erik.

Suddenly, Erik said inwardly toward Elora, "I love you, little Ember."

"Shut up," Elora answered with a roll of her eyes. "We've made it through worse than this. Besides, there's very little actual reason for either of them to want us dead."

"Elora…" he lightly growled in response, causing the fairy inside his soul to sigh. "Fine, fine. I love you too, Erik."

Today was the eighth day since that night in the cabin. Therefore, Elora's bet with Erik was over, and she was once again free to call him Erik.

Finally, the trio in the middle of Frostvik stopped and looked at each other from a dozen meters distance. "So… you must be Frostfang," Erik started with a light-hearted smirk.