Chapter 84 He is an Engima
Alberto woke with a violent shudder, his body seizing as though lightning had struck through every nerve. A low, guttural groan escaped his throat before he could stop it, the sound raw and broken. Pain radiated from his core outward, a deep, bone-weary ache that made even breathing feel like work. His limbs felt leaden, pinned to the hard-packed earth beneath him. The cursed clearing swam into focus slowly: the low fire still crackling, the twisted trees forming their eternal prison, the circle of wolves watching him with wide, worried eyes.
He tried to push himself up. His arms buckled immediately. A wave of dizziness crashed over him, and he collapsed back down with a sharp hiss.
Ronan was there in an instant, dropping to one knee beside him. “Easy, keeper. Easy.” Strong hands slid under Alberto’s shoulders, lifting him with careful strength until he sat propped against Ronan’s chest. “Do not move too fast. You have been out for hours.”
Selene appeared on his other side, a damp cloth already in her hand. She knelt gracefully, the black dot on her white fur catching the firelight as she gently wiped sweat from Alberto’s forehead and temples. The cloth was cool, soothing against his fevered skin. She worked in silence, her golden eyes never leaving his face, concern etched into every careful stroke.
The other wolves Elara, Finn, and Lira huddled closer, forming a loose semicircle around him. Their expressions were a mix of relief and fear. They had seen him collapse after draining the serpent breath toxin from Selene’s body into his own. They had watched the cursed sand beneath them pulse greedily, as though tasting the keeper’s life force. None of them had expected him to wake so soon, and certainly not so weak.
Alberto managed a small, shaky smile. “I am fine.”
Ronan snorted, though the sound held no humor. “You do not look fine at all.”
Selene continued wiping his face, her touch gentle but firm. “Your skin is burning. Your heart is racing like a trapped bird.”
Alberto exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself. “It will pass.”
Ronan shook his head, frustration and worry warring in his voice. “You keep straining yourself. Your wolf is drifting away. We can feel it. Every time you push your power, it slips further. If you are not careful, you will lose it completely.”
Alberto looked down at his hands. They trembled faintly, the green veins that usually pulsed beneath his skin now dull and barely visible. “I know the risk.”
Elara spoke softly from the edge of the circle. “Then why take it? You could have let Selene die. We would have understood.”
Alberto lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Because I could save her. And because none of you deserve to be trapped here forever.”
A heavy silence settled over the group.
Selene finished cleaning his face and set the cloth aside. She studied him for a long moment, then asked quietly, “Do you remember anything of your childhood?”
Alberto shook his head slowly. “Nothing. Just fragments. A name—Dina—but no face, no voice. I do not even know if she was real.”
Ronan looked at Selene. “Can you help him?”
Selene’s expression grew grave. “I can try. But it will not be gentle. I can open the locked memories, force them to surface. But it might be hard. He might never wake from them. Or they could lock permanently, sealing the past away forever.”
Alberto did not hesitate. “I am down for it. Even if it is just once, I should get to meet my wolf. Know who I truly am.”
Ronan’s brows furrowed. “You understand the risk?”
Alberto nodded. “If I survive, I promise I will find a way to let you all out of this cursed forest.”
Selene studied him for a long moment. “Very well.”
She shifted closer, placing one hand on his forehead and the other over his heart. Her palm glowed with a soft silver light, different from Alberto’s green keeper energy—cooler, deeper, like moonlight on still water.
“Close your eyes,” she instructed. “And breathe.”
Alberto obeyed.
The silver light seeped into him.
At first, there was only warmth. Then pressure. Then pain.
Memories slammed into him like a storm breaking over the sea.
He was small. Very small. A child’s hands clutching a woman’s skirt. The woman’s face blurred, but her voice was clear, soft, warm, calling him “little one.”
Dina.
A scream. Blood, burning houses, bands pulling him away. Darkness.
Then older. Running through streets, bare feet on cold stone. Hunger. Fear. Chains.
The auction house. Cages. Whispers. Pain.
Then the forest. Thorns tearing his skin. A voice ancient, deep,claiming him. The keeper’s mark burning into his soul.
His wolf howled inside him, distant, locked behind a wall of fog.
The memories pressed harder. Faces flashed. Voices overlapped. Pain layered upon pain.
Alberto’s body convulsed. He cried out, back arching.
Ronan gripped his shoulders. “Selene, stop!”
Selene’s voice was strained. “He is fighting it. Let him.”
Alberto’s eyes snapped open, glowing bright green, then gold, then silver, cycling through colors in rapid flashes. His veins pulsed wildly, light flaring beneath his skin.
Then everything stopped.
He collapsed forward, unconscious once more.
The wolves stared in stunned silence.
Ronan whispered. “What did we just see?”
Selene removed her hands, trembling. “He is an Engima wolf. And his wolf nearly killed him.”
The fire crackled softly.
The cursed clearing held its breath.
Ronan shifted backward in shock, his back pressing against the rough bark of the nearest twisted tree. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting the sudden pallor of his skin. His eyes were wide, pupils blown in disbelief as he stared at Selene.
“They truly existed?” he whispered, voice cracking on the last word. “Enigmas… I thought they were only stories. Myths told to pups to scare them into behaving.”
Selene remained kneeling beside the unconscious Alberto, her white fur stained with drying blood from her own earlier wounds. She did not look up immediately. Her golden eyes stayed fixed on the keeper’s face, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “They existed. And Alberto is likely the last of his kind.”
Ronan’s breath hitched. “How can that be? The Enigma bloodline was supposed to have died out centuries ago. The stories say they were too powerful. Too dangerous. The old packs hunted them down.”
Selene finally lifted her gaze. The fire reflected in her eyes like twin suns. “The stories are half-truths. They were hunted because they were feared, not because they were evil. An Enigma is not just a wolf with extra power. It is a wolf whose soul is split between two natures: the man who remembers, and the beast who forgets. When the memories are locked, the wolf hides. When the memories surface…” She trailed off, looking down at Alberto again. “His wolf rage will consume him. They are both hurt by the memories locked away. The pain is shared. Only if his wolf senses he can handle the truth will it reveal itself.”
Elara, who had been silent until now, spoke softly from the other side of the fire. “Then why did you open the memories? If it could kill him—”
“Because he asked,” Selene answered simply. “And because he is the keeper. If anyone can survive the truth of an Enigma, it is him.”
Finn rubbed his arms as though chilled. “And if he cannot?”
Selene did not answer.
The clearing fell quiet again, broken only by the crackle of the fire and Alberto’s shallow breathing.
Days passed in the cursed place.
Time moved strangely here sometimes slow, sometimes blurred. The blood moon had long since set, but the sky above the twisted canopy never truly lightened. It remained a bruised purple, streaked with red, as though the forest itself were wounded.
Alberto finally woke.
His eyes snapped open with a gasp, body jerking upright. He coughed immediately, hard and wet. Blood splattered his palm. He stared at it for a second, confused, before another cough wracked him.
Selene was at his side in an instant, pressing a damp cloth to his mouth. “Easy. Breathe slowly.”
Alberto wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing red across his skin. “What… happened?”
Selene’s voice was gentle. “Nothing. You only screamed and fainted.”
Ronan opened his mouth, clearly wanting to say more, but Selene stepped sharply on his foot under the cover of her cloak. He snapped his mouth shut with a wince.
Lira, sitting cross-legged near the fire, leaned forward. “Do you remember what you saw?”
Alberto closed his eyes, searching. Pain lanced through his skull, sharp and bright. He winced. “I only remember a name. Dina. That’s all.”
Selene studied him for a long moment. “Rest well. Push too hard again, and you might collapse for good.”
She rose and moved away, gesturing for the others to give him space.
Alberto waited until they were distracted, then reached for his pack. His fingers shook as he opened it and pulled out a small leather diary he had carried since the auction house. The cover was worn, the pages yellowed and filled with scattered notes, dates, names, fragments of dreams.
He flipped to a fresh page, took the stub of charcoal he kept tucked inside, and wrote in careful, trembling letters:
Black crest
He stared at the words for a long time.
The fire popped.
Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled.