Chapter 41: The First and the forsaken one

The atmosphere was filled with unseen force.

Yna lay frozen under the ancient tree, her breathing ragged, her heart thudding in her head. Whatever stood before her was beyond comprehension—it wasn't human, but not wolf, and yet both of them was simultaneous. Its existence in this form was a vibration of something older than time itself.

And there were people observing her, people waiting.

She swallowed hard, her shaking hands locked in her hips. "Who are you?"

The lips of the figure quivered. Not a smile, though, Not exactly.

"I am the first."

They rippled through the atmosphere, settling in her body like softness of forgotten verities.

"The first what?." Yna's voice barely reached her vocal limits.

The Being tilted their head, its gold-colored eyes was shining in the dimness. "The first of the ones which you now refer to as wolves, the first to tread the thin line of man and beast. The first to be cursed."

Shivers ran through Yna’s spine.

The First wolf.

The Original Werewolf

There were things about that reality that i did not get.

But the monster wasn't done, though.

"And I'm not the only one."

Yna gasped for breath. "You mean there are more like you?"

The Being gave a slow head movement. "There were many, once upon a time, there are now few. Some are lost, Others are waiting and some, some have been forgotten."

The wind howled, rustling the towering tree's leaves.

Yna's mind raced, the war was over, Selene died, The Ancient One's hold was broken. But this? This was something totally different.

"What do you want from me?" she snorted, her voice sharper now.

The First took one stepped forward.

You have sensed it, haven't you? The war wasn't really for Selene, it wasn't about the prophecy, it wasn't even about Marcus or his pack.

Yna's throat tightened.

"It was about you," said the First. "And what you would become."

Yna stepped backward, her head shaking involuntarily. “I don’t get this

The First exhaled, pushing the air aside with the breath itself.

"You cut down the Ancient One, they said. "But you did not kill her."

Yna already knew that. She felt it the moment the war was over—that vacant, immovable eye still looking out from the emptiness.

The Being gaze burnt through her. "You did not destroy it … because you couldn't."

Yna's gut twisted.

And then,

The Being moved.

Faster than her eyes could track, two figures were beside her, one hugging the other like darkness hugs light.

You were not supposed to destroy it," they whispered.

Yna whirled around, her body stiff. "What was I supposed to do, then?"

The First smiled.

Take it's place.

The Weight of a Throne

Yna's world shattered

Take its place?

The very idea sent a pulse of raw denial through her veins.

She wasn't any god, She wasn't any monster, She wasn't some ancient force outside of time.

She was just Yna.

But then.

Didn't she sense something shift inside her when she freed herself from the Ancient One?

Aren't there things that call to her even before that?

She thought it was power.

Perhaps, but.

Maybe it was something else.

The First observed her with patience spanning the centuries. "You were never typical, Ynamora, even from the beginning."

Yna folded her fists. "I did not request for this."

"No one does," the First whispered. "At least, not the first time."

Yna panted. "And what if I say no?"

The First studied her for quite some time. And then they stretched themselves—not to touch her, but to show themselves to her.

The moment her hand shifted, the world opened up.

And Yna saw a world of shadows and hunger, beyond the confines of mortal men. Creatures that wasn't meant to exist, waiting in the darkness of the night, A force older than even the First, stirring at the edges of existence.

And the Ancient One—alive, not dead, not gone, but waiting to return.

"If you don't take its spot," the First declared, its voice barely above a whisper, "something else will."

The vision faded, leaving Yna panting.

Her hands shook.

Her knees almost buckled.

Because she understood now.

That wasn't concerning power, It was about balance.

The Ancient One was part of something bigger something not to be removed—just traded off.

And if she refused?

Something much worse would take its place.

She clenched her teeth, her heart pounding. "What if I agree?"

The Being did not change expression. "You will exist no more in this world."

Yna's stomach clenched. "Meaning?"

You will be what the Ancient One was," the First one said. "A force bound to the very fabric of existence itself. You will not rule, you will not command, you will be….."

Yna's breath caught.

She murmured, "I do not wish to be god."

The First smiled softly. “Then be something else."

A Decision Which CANNOT BE UNDONE

Marcus was already awake at the camp.

He felt it the moment Yna walked away—the sharp, aching pull within his chest, the vacant place where her presence should have been.

He wasn't the only one.

She's gone," Liora told him, her tone hopeless. "She isn't in there anywhere."

Cursing under his breath, Leo muttered, "Damn it, Yna

Marcus clenched his fists. His werewolf growled, restless inside him.

He had been so preoccupied with the chances of losing her.

And now

Now, something far worse had taken her away.

A cry echoed through the darkness.

Not a wolfs,

Something else.

Something old.

Marcus ground his teeth. "We're going after her."

Leo hesitated. "You're sure? If she were summoned—"

"Not my problem," Marcus growled. His gold-eyed gaze blazed. "I am not going to lose her."

Liora stepped forward. "Well, then

we must hurry."

Marcus exhaled, holding down the increasing dread in his chest.

Wherever Yna had gone, whatever had taken her—

He would bring her with him. No matter what it cost. -