The skies above Lykanis roared.
Thunder echoed in the distance, blending with the sound of rapid paws crashing through the forest floor. A blur of blue darted between ancient trees, faster than the eye could follow. It was a female wolf, her sleek fur glowing with hues of deep azure, her mane flowing like a river around her fierce green eyes. In her jaws, wrapped in thick cloth and bound with protection seals, were three tiny cubs—triplets.
Naelra ran not out of fear, but out of love.
She had seen what Trex had become. Not a mate. Not even a wolf anymore. The things he whispered in his sleep, the way his blood smelled wrong, heavy with rot and ruin. His obsession with their cubs had crossed into something unspeakable. And when she learned the truth of his clan—the truth no one dared utter—she fled.
The wind howled behind her. The trees turned black, leaves curling midair as if burned by invisible flame. He was gaining.
Naelra cursed under her breath, her voice sharp and panicked. "No... not yet. I need more time."
Breaking through the treeline, she arrived at a cliff's edge. The vastness of Lykanis unfolded before her—storm-ridden skies, fire-scorched mountains, ice valleys, and sky-islands drifting in the clouds. There was no place safe. Only away.
Her body glowed. Ancient glyphs formed beneath her paws. With her final strength, she called upon the Rite of the Waterborne Wings. Three mighty falcons rose from the waters around her, their bodies glistening like liquid mirrors.
She kissed each cub with a trembling snout.
"Red, Evon, Max... survive. Find each other. Learn the truth. And when you do... destroy him."
She placed them into the falcons' talons.
Trex burst from the shadows behind her.
Her howl split the skies—and the cubs vanished.
The savage world would never be the same.
Evon's falcon dipped into the red canyons below, navigating past the blackened peaks of an old battlefield. It dropped him deep into the cavernous heart of the Redstone region, where forgotten ruins whispered of war and ancient bloodlines. As Evon stirred, his scarlet fur shimmered briefly in the dim red glow.
Red tumbled through the air, wrapped in warmth and water. The falcon carrying him soared far toward a wild and harsh stretch of Lykanis—untamed wilderness where predators ruled, and only the strong survived. The falcon released him into the shadowy jungles on the edge of the Redstone region—lands stalked by monsters and lone wolves. There, Red would grow up not with guidance, but with instinct. Every scar would become his teacher. Every fight, a lesson.
Max's falcon flew further than the others. It soared across the twilight edges of Lykanis, diving past rivers of magma and forests of obsidian bark until it reached a quiet land hidden beneath the northern auroras. There, beneath the snow-laced shadows of a dormant volcano, the falcon left Max beside a frozen spring. The cub's orange fur flickered in the reflection, and though he was newborn, his sleeping expression held a calm resolve.
Far away, standing over the bloodied cliff, Trex stared into the skies. The world around him withered. The trees wept black sap. The cliff cracked beneath his paws.
"They think they can hide," he muttered. "But their blood calls to me."
He turned, disappearing into the smoke that followed him everywhere.
From that day, a storm began to brew across Lykanis. Clans whispered of omens. Wolves dreamed of three stars falling through fire. Prophets scratched forgotten names into stone.
And somewhere deep within the winds, Naelra's voice echoed faintly:
"Run, my sons. Grow strong. The world is watching."