Dragoncrest Cliffs salem was more than a story and i was born from fire

sometimes the night wakes up in the middle of me
and i can do nothing but become the night

---

ever since she can remember, she was destined for great things. she’s long since given up trying to figure out where she came from, what family she really belonged to. there wasn’t a single wolf willing to share information. she quelled it as best she could growing up, lonely. the other fos goufas were adults by the time she was born, with moons and seasons of training under their belt. she is taught, as the others, that she has the chance to be a legend among wolves should she be able to take the crown but after a while she could see it in their eyes that they did not even consider her the next commander.

if only she could have caught up to them.

she was eight months old when…

her commander died
sadgeda began
she had to face three full grown adults.

when she won.

the commanders stood by her, their decision for her to win, when the rest of the pack didn’t. they encouraged her in dreams, in hallucinations her former fleimkepa help provide. it is not a perfect system, mistakes are still made and lives are still lost and while she lives and breathes, she is still a wolf. as perfect as they want her to be, or as she’d like to believe, she knew something had gone wrong when the former commanders had gone quiet and left her to her own devices. when her former mentor came to her one night, she knew things had to change.

you are lost
lost?
find them, they need you

by the time the war is over, she is tired and ready to return. she’d gone to the commanders like sanja told her—god, she wished she could properly talk to the woman—but she did as told. the visions have never been stronger.

coming home to find drageda in shambles, with her mate (ex-mate, she corrects) and two children have left, and one child missing. the rest of the mess she will sort out with dio, blixen, and helix, but for now she tries to find her way. the right way. one evening, she seeks out rose, locating the same herb they used before, and silently retreats to a quiet corner of her claim.

---

they do not come until late in the night, almost morning. there is more of them than there have been. some visions produce a one and some produce more, but never have all of them appeared at once. at least, what she assumes to be all of them. they stand ever the legends history has made them out to be. she’ll stand there one day, too, as long as she corrects her way.

you know what you have to do.
i know.
do you understand now?
yes.
go, antumbra.
antumbra?

they offer nothing else. she knows what she has to do, how she’s meant to fix this, and she watches as the fog fades and their faces dissipate. eventually it is only the call of the ocean, over and over, calling to wash thuringwethil away so that new can be reborn.

for visibility: @Dio @Blixen @Dacio @Bobby @Ephraim @Vercingetorix @Tux @Opalia @Eastwood @Rose @Tirgatao (adding @Blackbear and @Eurycrates should they be accepted)