The Crystal Wolf

Prologue — The Forgotten Howl They say the earth once walked with mystical beasts, among bears, mountain lions, ravens and serpents. The wolves of crystal were sacrad to this land. Their paws split stone and seeded mountains. Their breath sang along veins of light deep under the skin of the world, and their howls tuned rivers, forests, and storms to a single hidden note. People called them guardians, though no two villages agreed on what they guarded—balance, truth, the favor of the old gods, or the boundary between what should be and what should never. But power draws hunger. Nobles carved the beasts’ bones into crowns and blades. Priests bottled their light in reliquaries and called it a blessing. Miners hunted glitter in the dark, and every shard taken was a string plucked from the world’s throat. The wolves dimmed, then vanished, retreating into story and song. Kingdoms rose. Mines deepened. Children were warned not to wander too far into the wilds “lest the howling take you,” and everyone laughed because there was no howling anymore. Only the witches whispered otherwise. When the earth falters, the crystal-blooded will return. Not to kings. Not to heroes. To the unseen. I never thought they meant me.