The Shattered Prophecy

Eryk’s feet crunched softly against the dirt path as he made his way home, the weight of the wolf’s words pressing down on him with every step. The forest had felt different, transformed in a way he couldn’t quite explain. The air had thickened with ancient power, and something deep within him stirred—something old and forgotten, like a flicker of a dream just out of reach. The words of the King of Wolves repeated in his mind, a haunting refrain: “You carry a burden. The Prophecy of the Shattered Dawn.”

He tried to shake the feeling as he reached the edge of the forest, the familiar sight of his home coming into view. It was a modest cottage nestled at the base of a tall, thick oak tree, the roof weathered from years of storms but sturdy nonetheless. His adopted father, Torin, had built it with his own hands, and though they had little in terms of wealth, the warmth of their home always made Eryk feel safe. That was, until today.

He paused at the door, breathing deeply. His sister, Aira, was inside, he knew—she would likely be waiting for him. Eryk had become used to the way she always seemed to know when he was about to return, her small figure often standing by the window, staring out with wide, expectant eyes.

With a sigh, he pushed open the door.

Aira was there, exactly as he had imagined, standing near the hearth where a small fire crackled. Her wild, untamed auburn hair framed her freckled face, and her green eyes were sparkling with excitement. She was always full of energy, a sharp contrast to his more reserved nature.

"You're back!" Aira squealed, her voice high-pitched with joy. She ran to him and threw her small arms around his waist.