In the aftermath of the explosion, the fire gradually receded, leaving behind a lingering aura of ancient magic. The wolf's silhouette remained, now imprinted on the very fabric of the clearing, its presence etched into the essence of the mystical realm.
The air, charged with the residual energy of the flames, held the promise of clarity and truth that would reshape the very foundations of the kingdom's destiny.
The wolf's silhouette within the dwindling flames spoke, its voice echoing through the clearing with a weight that resonated in the very core of my being. "The truth, King Vidar, is that your mother, Circe, cast a curse upon the entire kingdom before her demise. She vowed that love would never take root in these lands, and your life became the price paid for such a promise. We, t
