The Seven Kingdoms

MARK OF 'D'

Sweet Memory

Light

(8 years old) ran, his breath coming in sharp, icy bursts as he darted through the forest. Snow swirled around him, dusting the trees, blanketing the ground, and muffling his footfalls. Everything was still, as if the world itself had frozen under the weight of winter. But Light wasn’t cold—not yet. He was laughing, his heart racing in his chest, the thrill of the chase lighting his veins.

“Light! Where are you? I’m going to catch you!” His mother’s voice rang through the trees, soft and melodic, like music carried on the wind.

He grinned, glancing back over his shoulder. Her voice sounded closer now, but he wasn’t worried. No, this was fun. His mother might be faster, but he was small, nimble, and clever. He spotted a hollowed-out rock, its dark mouth wide open, like an invitation to hide, to slip into safety. Without a second thought, Light squeezed inside, pressing himself flat against the cold stone walls, holding his breath, his heartbeat loud in his ears.

He waited, grinning to himself. Any moment now, he’d hear her footsteps in the snow, her playful laughter as she searched for him. But... nothing came.

The forest grew still—unnervingly still. The snow fell in thick, silent curtains, and the cold seemed to grow heavier, more ominous. His smile faltered, a flicker of unease crawling up his spine. “Mom?” he whispered, barely more than a breath, his eyes darting around the dim hollow. And then he heard it.

A growl.

Low, deep, and menacing, like thunder rumbling beneath the earth. Light’s heart seized in his chest. He strained to listen, barely daring to breathe. Slowly, he peered through the narrow gap in the rock, his breath catching in his throat.

There it was.

A massive, white wolf, its fur blending almost perfectly with the snow, except for its eyes—blazing red, like hot embers in the dead of winter. The beast was enormous, its paws leaving craters in the snow as it prowled closer. Another growl, this one louder, more threatening.

Light didn’t move. He couldn’t. His muscles locked in terror as the wolf crept toward him, its eyes locked onto his. Then, without warning, it lunged—fangs bared, teeth flashing white as snow.

The pain hit him like fire. Light screamed, clutching his hand where the wolf’s jaws had clamped down—

—and woke, gasping, his heart pounding, his breath coming in shallow bursts. The cave walls around him flickered in the dim firelight, and a low whine reached his ears.

White Fang, his wolf companion, was tugging at the hem of his pants, his bright eyes full of mischief. Light (28 years old)blinked, the lingering terror of the dream still gripping him. His hand throbbed where the wolf had bitten him, but when he looked down, there were no marks—only the fading memory of a nightmare.

“It was just a dream,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, shaking his head as if to clear it. The fire crackled beside him, warm and reassuring in the freezing cave. But outside, the wind howled, and the blizzard roared against the mouth of the cave like some vengeful spirit.

Fang barked, pulling at his clothes again, more urgently now.

Light sighed. “What now, Fang? You know we can’t go outside in that storm. We’ll freeze before we take two steps. This is Death Valley, after all.”

But Fang wasn’t listening. With a wag of his tail, the wolf bolted toward the entrance, slipping out into the storm before Light could stop him.

“Fang! You i***t!” Light scrambled to grab his things, throwing essentials into his pack with hasty hands. Cursing under his breath, he sprinted after his wolf, his feet slipping on the icy ground.

The moment he stepped outside, the storm swallowed him whole. Snow whipped across his face, stinging like needles, and the wind tore at his clothes. He could barely see a foot in front of him as the blizzard raged, icy and unrelenting. “This is mad,” Light muttered through gritted teeth. “We’re going to die out here.”

But he kept moving, plunging into the storm. The cold clawed at him, gnawing through his clothes, sinking into his bones. He trudged forward, calling Fang’s name, though the wind snatched the words from his lips. The world was nothing but white—endless, swirling white.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, he sence it. some thing circling around him . A glow—blue, faint, but unmistakable.

Light squinted, his heart racing. The snow underfoot took on a strange, eerie hue. He pushed forward, his legs trembling from the cold and exhaustion. Through the storm, a shadow emerged—tall, towering, and regal. A Giant wolf.

Not Fang. No, this was far bigger, with fur streaked with glowing blue stripes. Its eyes—cold, calculating sapphires—met his, and Light’s breath caught in his throat.

“I am the Guardian of the Mountains,” the wolf said, its voice deep and ancient, rumbling through the wind like an avalanche. “State your business, human. Speak truly, or be consumed by the storm.”

Light swallowed, his throat dry, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ve come to save the Seven Kingdoms.”

The Guardian’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of disdain crossing its features. “A bold claim. You are but a Human. You will die here, as all who come through these mountains did.”

Light shivered, not just from the cold, but from the weight of the creature’s words. He straightened his spine, forcing his voice to steady. “I don’t intend to die here. I came from the North, crossing Death Valley to reach the Kingdom of Frost. I seek the Dragonborn. Together, we can stop the war. Together, we can save the kingdoms.”

For a long moment, the Guardian was silent, its gaze piercing, as if weighing the truth of Light’s words. “Your name, boy,” it demanded at last.

Light hesitated. Revealing his name felt dangerous, like stepping over a threshold he couldn’t return from. But there was no turning back now. “Light D. Morgan,” he said, lifting his chin. “Son of Hope D. Morgan, the Dragon Slayer, King in the North.”

The Guardian’s eyes flickered, recognition flashing in their depths. “D...” It growled softly, a sound that made the hairs on Light’s neck stand on end. “The prophecy stirs once more. Light, son of D, your path is dangerous. Do not reveal your true name. There are those who would use it against you. The Dragonborn will not be an ally if he knows who you are.”

Light nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. He had already guessed as much. “I’ll keep it secret. But I need to find him. He’s the key to saving us all.”

The Guardian said nothing, but before Light could speak again, the wolf let out a deafening roar. The sound hit Light like a physical force, knocking him to the ground. The world spun, the storm closing in around him, and as darkness swallowed him whole, the last thing he saw was the Guardian’s glowing blue eyes watching him... watching, and waiting.