Conversation about The Past.

"Your Excellency, may I have your attention, please?" Lucas announced, standing at the grand staircase. He clapped his hands, the sound cutting through the murmur of the crowd.

Heads turned, some glancing over shoulders, others meeting his gaze directly, brows raised in a mixture of curiosity and lingering unease from the earlier disruption. Whatever had happened before, it was momentarily forgotten, replaced by the intriguing figure now descending the stairs.

"Indeed, we just witnessed a rather… memorable spectacle," Lucas continued, a hint of amusement in his voice. He moved down the stairs with easy grace, arms opening in a welcoming gesture. Reaching a nearby server, impeccably dressed in a crisp uniform and holding a tray of champagne flutes, Lucas offered a quick smile, plucked a glass from the tray, and turned back to the assembled guests.

"Let's not allow it to dampen our spirits, shall we? The afternoon—and evening—is still young." He raised his glass, a charming smile playing on his lips. "To good company, and even better times." He took a sip, the gesture smooth and practiced.

A ripple of agreement spread through the crowd, glasses rising in a collective toast. Smiles, some genuine, some more cautious, replaced the earlier tension.

Miro, however, was far from amused. A scowl twisting his features, he stalked towards the door, his movements stiff and abrupt, a clear indication of the pain he was in. Several of his companions, though hesitant, trailed after him, their loyalty outweighing their unease.

Lucas watched their departure, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. He chuckled softly, took another sip of champagne, and then, with a polite smile, turned his attention back to the remaining guests, raising his glass once more.

Catherine, still in her fox form, followed reluctantly. Her nine tails drooped slightly, brushing against the heels of the large black wolf ahead. Despite her resentment at being forced along, she knew resistance was futile. She studied the wolf’s broad back, a mixture of curiosity and annoyance churning within her. Part of her longed to engage him in conversation, while another part remained stubbornly hostile.

They walked in silence for what seemed like an eternity, the only sounds their footsteps on the path, the rustling of leaves in the trees and bushes, and the whisper of wind. Finally, they stopped in a clearing of tall grass.

"Those wolves earlier," Catherine began, her voice tentative. "They were chasing me. Did you send them?"

The big black wolf paused, considering her question. "If I had sent them," he replied, a low, wolfish chuckle rumbling in his chest, "I would have called them off the moment I saw you."

Catherine considered this, then shrugged, conceding the point without a word.

"Are they… hybrids too?" she asked, "Or just… wolves?"

"Just wolves?" The wolf echoed, his tone unreadable.

"You know," Catherine clarified, "not human."

"Everyone you see here is a hybrid," the wolf stated flatly. "Half-human, half-wolf. No one is… different. Until you arrived, that is." He turned his head slowly, his piercing yellow eyes fixed on her.

"I know, I know!" Catherine snapped, irritation rising. "You don't have to remind me. Ugh, what annoys me is how everyone treats me like some kind of monster. Do these people have any self-awareness? Any compassion? Do I look like a monster?" She launched into a tirade, her voice laced with hurt and indignation.

The big black wolf continued walking, silent for a long moment.

"Do you have any clue why they call me a demon?" Catherine burst out, the questions tumbling over each other. "And that guy from earlier, with the irritatingly charming voice and those oddly scary blue eyes… he knew I was a fox! He realized my kind still exists!"

The wolf stopped abruptly, falling silent.

Catherine, noticing his stillness, also halted, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. 

 "Hey, why'd we stop? Are we at the exit?"

"I don't see you as the demon they claim," the big black wolf said, finally turning to face her, his gaze meeting hers.

 "You were still the same."

Catherine stared, speechless, her expression a blank canvas. Then, without warning, a brilliant light erupted from her fox form, enveloping her in its glow. The big black wolf instinctively shielded his eyes.

When the light subsided, Catherine was left vulnerable, her fox transformation having reached its limit. Her curvy body was now bare, exposed. Instinctively, she looked down, then immediately covered herself, shrinking away from the wolf's gaze.

"Don't you dare!" she stammered, blushing furiously. Her eyes darted around, searching for something, anything, to cover herself. With no other option, she stood, hands clasped over her chest and between her legs, and awkwardly stumbled towards the nearest bushes, disappearing into their leafy embrace.

Hidden within the foliage, she waited, listening for any reaction from the wolf. None came.

"Wait here," the big black wolf’s voice finally rumbled, just loud enough for her to hear. "I'll find something for you to wear."

Catherine didn't reply, remaining hidden, with no intention of moving. She was no stranger to the awkwardness of transforming back to human form while naked. It was precisely why she rarely used her fox form, only resorting to it once or twice out of boredom or in minor emergencies.

Minutes ticked by. Catherine hadn't expected him to actually wait, but she remained where she was. Finally, deciding it was time to emerge, she cautiously extended her senses, probing the area. 

 She detected no presence nearby. Just to be sure, she focused again, closing her eyes to enhance her senses. This time, she felt a soul presence nearby.

"Here."

Catherine jumped, letting out a startled squeak as she heard a male voice from just to the left of the bushes. Peeking through the leaves, she saw him.

Jasper, dressed in a black button-down shirt and black pants held up by a grey belt, stood a short distance away. His hand was extended, offering her a long, white dress. Catherine stared at him in surprise, while Jasper simply stared back, his expression nonchalant.

 They held each other's gaze for a long moment. Finally, Catherine, deciding not to prolong the awkwardness, took the dress from him. She examined it quickly, feeling the fabric and checking its size. Satisfied that it would fit, she frowned and gestured with her head and hand for him to turn around.

Jasper sighed but complied, placing his hands on his hips as he turned his back to her.

Catherine began to dress, keeping her eyes on Jasper's back to make sure he wasn't watching. It took a moment, but she finally managed to slip into the white dress, carefully adjusting it. She studied the garment. It was ruffled, the stitching impeccable, and the fabric looked breathable and comfortable.

"Why do you have such a beautiful dress with you?" Catherine asked, a playful glint in her eye. "Does it belong to your lover?"

Jasper glanced over his shoulder, meeting her gaze for a beat longer than necessary before finally looking away.

Catherine’s smile faded slightly, a touch of unease creeping in at his silence. She busied herself with her thoughts, trying to decide what to say next.

"No," Jasper finally said. "It doesn't." He paused. "It belongs to you."

Catherine frowned, finding his response odd. She stood up, a hint of annoyance in her expression, though she tried to conceal it. Crossing her arms, she said, 

"Stop that. Be frank with me. Look, I'm not interested in you. Not even a little bit. If you're trying to hit on me, don't bother."

Jasper frowned, a look of confusion on his face. He chuckled in disbelief, turning his gaze away as if searching for the right words.

"I don't know you, okay?" Catherine continued, laying down her boundaries.

 "Well, I know your name, but that's it."

Jasper nodded, his silence heavy. His face was serious, devoid of any hint of playfulness or flirtation. "What I said is true, Catherine," he stated flatly.

Catherine's eyes widened. He knows my name. She recoiled, her head snapping back as she stared at him in disbelief.

"It's been a long time—thousands of years—since I last saw your face," Jasper said, a hint of something ancient in his voice. "I never expected to see you again, not after what happened..."

"What?" Catherine muttered, confused.

 "What are you talking about?" A shiver ran down her spine, a strange sense of familiarity creeping over her. She couldn't explain it, but it was impossible to ignore.

"If you're trying to—"

"The last time I saw you," Jasper interrupted, "you told me, 'This world is crazy, too crazy. Everywhere you look, lies upon lies, masquerading as good.'"

Catherine gaped at him, speechless. Doubt warred with a strange, unsettling recognition. She closed her eyes briefly, then abruptly turned and walked away, leaving him standing there.

Jasper watched her go, then silently followed. "Catherine," he called softly.

"Don't!" she yelled, stopping in her tracks.

 "Don't come any closer!" She held up a hand, a clear warning. But she still refused to meet his gaze. "Don't call my name like you know me."

"Listen," Jasper said, "when I first saw you, I wasn't sure. I had my doubts. But when I touched your arm..." He trailed off, a flicker of memory in his eyes. That was all the proof I needed. He nodded to himself.

Catherine paused, then resolutely continued walking. Her mind was reeling. This was all so new, yet… a chill of remembrance, of yearning, ran through her. Part of her wanted to dismiss it, to reject this stranger and his impossible claims.

 But another part, a deeper, more primal part, believed. Her body betrayed her mind's denial.

Jasper stopped, lowering his head slightly. He gave her space, unsure how to bridge the chasm between them, how to make her see reason—or perhaps, how to let the truth surface on its own.

Catherine walked on, head down, a storm of confusion raging within her.

Lucas sipped his champagne, hovering near the dessert table. A decadent array of treats stretched before him: tarts, cream puffs, cakes, and pastries, each representing a different corner of the globe. Baklava from Turkey, Black Forest cake from Germany, cardamom buns from Sweden, chocolate mousse from France—the choices were overwhelming. He picked up a dessert plate, his mind already racing with possibilities.

"Your Royal Highness," a voice called from behind him.

Lucas startled, though he tried not to show it. He turned, a frown creasing his brow.

 "Don't sneak up on me like that," he grumbled. He shook off the surprise, quickly regaining his neutral expression as he glanced back at the tempting desserts.

 "What is it?" he asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"The Prime Minister of Russia, Sir Dmitri Orlov, has requested His Majesty's presence," Eddie, the Emperor's personal advisor, explained. Eddie, a Caucasian man with flat, curly, brownish-blond hair, grey eyes, and an average build—slightly chubby around the middle but otherwise lean—stood patiently.

Lucas listened, his attention seemingly fixed on the desserts. He picked up a utensil and began carefully selecting a treat from the bottom of a serving dish. His choice? The crème brûlée, almost the last one remaining.

Eddie watched, a hint of unprofessional surprise flickering across his face at Lucas's apparent disregard for royal etiquette. He sighed inwardly, struggling to maintain his composure.

"Sir," Eddie repeated, his tone more urgent, "the Prime Minister wishes to discuss important matters with His Majesty. His presence is urgently required."

"What drink do you think pairs best with crème brûlée?" Lucas mused, finally turning his gaze to Eddie. "A Pinot Blanc? Or perhaps a Martini?"

Eddie stared, a mixture of confusion and frustration on his face. He didn't answer the question, but pressed on with his duty.

 "Sir," he said firmly, "can you please inform His Majesty of the Prime Minister's request?"

"Did the wolf guards fail in their duty? Or are you simply throwing orders around carelessly, assuming I'm too dense to understand?" Lucas asked sharply, his gaze fixed on Eddie.

Eddie shifted uncomfortably, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. He looked away briefly, then regained his composure, trying to ignore Lucas's pointed words.

"The four wolf guards who pursued the girl returned empty-handed," Eddie reported, his tone carefully neutral. "They reported that they couldn't find her. If you don't mind me asking, sir… who is she?"

Lucas smirked. He picked up his crème brûlée and took a large bite with his bare hands, completely disregarding any semblance of etiquette. He then dropped the remains of the dessert onto a nearby dessert plate, along with his champagne glass.

"Hmm," Lucas murmured, savoring the taste. "I must say, crème brûlée and champagne are a good combination." He leaned against the table, resting his arms on either side. "The girl isn't special," he said dismissively. "To me, she's just another woman."

He straightened. "Tell the Prime Minister that His Majesty will arrive shortly," he said casually, a note of finality in his voice.

"Now? But if he shouldn't—" Eddie began, only to be cut off by Lucas's sudden, intense stare. His expression was serious, yet somehow empty, sending a shiver down Eddie's spine. Eddie faltered, the unspoken question dying on his lips.

"I'll take my leave, Your Royal Highness," Eddie said, offering a quick curtsy before turning and walking away.

Lucas's thoughts drifted back to the woman. He didn't even know her name. Had he ever asked? It didn't matter now, he supposed. She was probably long gone, fled to some distant corner of the world. 

 Still, the fact that a fox with such a complex scent had entered his territory without any apparent means of transportation… that piqued his curiosity. He quickly dismissed the thought. She was probably just lost, a stray who’d abandoned her own kind. Too much to think about. And yet, the mental exercise somehow energized him.

"Am I getting a headache? The thought of that woman…" Lucas trailed off, then shrugged, dismissing the thought. He picked up his champagne glass from a nearby table, took a sip, and gazed blankly at the crowd milling about the grand hall.

Meanwhile, Catherine had walked for what felt like a mile, putting as much distance as possible between herself and Jasper.

"What the hell was he talking about?" she muttered to herself. "Was he on drugs or something? There's no way I know him. I've never even seen a European guy in my life, except for the occasional tourist—and they're usually the type who troll dating apps for younger women." The conversation replayed in her mind, each word a fresh wave of annoyance. 

 Confusion warred with anger. All she wanted was to find her sister and aunt and go home.

"If he pushes his luck," she fumed, "he'll get a punch in the face. Is he crazy? Doesn't he realize wolves and foxes can't interbreed?"

"And wasn't he supposed to be the Emperor? Shouldn't he have a wife?"

"I'm leaving this place," she decided. "The idea of that Emperor hitting on me is just… awful. Especially if he's married."

"I'm in my healing phase right now," she grumbled. "I don't need this stress."

Catherine’s thoughts tumbled over each other as she walked, the crunch of fallen leaves beneath her feet punctuating her internal monologue. Suddenly, she snapped out of her reverie. She stopped, glancing around. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts, she’d lost track of her surroundings. A chilling realization dawned on her.

"Wait a minute," she said aloud. "Didn't he say he knew the way out?"

A wave of panic washed over her. She was in even more trouble than she thought. Catherine’s face fell. She closed her eyes and groaned in frustration. She didn't yell or make a scene, but a heavy silence settled over her as she considered her options—and her rapidly shifting feelings.

Catherine found herself still in the forest, but this was no longer the bright, green woodland she’d been in before. This was something else entirely—a dark, grey wood, devoid of vibrant life. It was as if she’d stumbled into a different world. A chill permeated the air, a stark contrast to the earlier warmth. Her white, ruffled dress offered little protection against the sudden cold, which quickly began to seep into her bones. The temperature plummeted, dropping from a pleasant crispness to something akin to a South Korean winter.

"What is this place?" she thought, shivering. "I need to go back." She quickened her pace, wrapping her arms around her chest in a futile attempt to retain some warmth.

The thought of transforming flickered through her mind, but she dismissed it. Her fox form couldn't withstand this kind of cold. She wasn't an Arctic fox; her transformations were only effective in moderate or warm temperatures. And the temperature was dropping rapidly.

 Catherine increased her speed, desperate to escape the encroaching cold.

As she moved, she noticed a thick fog rolling in, blanketing the forest in an eerie shroud. It appeared suddenly, from all directions, surprising her. Panic began to set in. She broke into a run, her half-fox heritage giving her an edge. Her family had a history of being swift runners; it was a trait of their fox blood, a trait that extended to her fox form as well.

Catherine ran, her face set in a determined mask, the fog thickening with every step, as if racing to catch her.

"Damn it, I can barely see!" she muttered, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "I have to keep going. I'll be okay. I have to trust myself." She pushed herself harder, her pace quickening.

Meanwhile, Jasper arrived at the palace gates. The four wolf guards, recognizing his presence, immediately opened the massive doors and lowered their heads in greeting. Jasper walked through with an air of regal authority, his expression serious and unreadable.

The black wolf guard who had pursued Catherine earlier seized the opportunity to report his failure. He approached Jasper, his wolf form towering over the Emperor.

"Your Majesty," the wolf guard began, "I have returned, but I was unable to bring you the woman."

Jasper stopped, his silence heavy.

"Your Majesty," the wolf guard continued, a hint of desperation in his voice, "I am determined to find her. Grant me permission to search again. I can assure you, she is not one of us. I detected the stench of demon on her."

Jasper remained silent, his face giving nothing away. He was clearly deep in thought.

The gold palace doors stood open, guests milling about, preparing to leave. They were surprised to see Jasper approaching. A ripple of changed behavior went through the crowd. Some bowed deeply, others simply stared, a mixture of awe and perhaps a touch of residual awkwardness in their eyes.

"Your Majesty," the murmur went through the crowd. Some conversations died down altogether, while others tried to maintain a semblance of polite chatter, carefully avoiding any mention of the earlier disturbance.

The atmosphere was thick with unspoken questions, but Jasper remained unfazed. Guests quickly filed out, some offering hasty curtsies as they passed, others lingering to give him space as he entered the palace.

"Go," Jasper commanded the black wolf guard, his voice low but firm. "Find her. Don't engage. Bring her to me—first."

"Yes, Your Majesty!" the wolf guard bowed, then turned to the other guards near the gate. "Everyone, by order of His Majesty, we resume the search for the intruder. We will not return until she is found and brought here." He strode towards the gate, the other guards nodding in agreement and following close behind. The gates swung open as they approached.

As Jasper stepped through the palace doors, he was immediately accosted by two royal women.

"Your Majesty, where have you been?" one asked.

"Was it true that a woman was an intruder?" another inquired, her voice laced with curiosity.

Jasper's expression remained unchanged.

 He looked at them, his gaze steady and authoritative. "No one can yet determine her true nature," he said smoothly. "I was unable to locate her during my brief absence. But I assure you all, if she is indeed an intruder, I will handle the matter personally." He offered a carefully crafted, noncommittal statement, his eyes sweeping over the crowd before finally looking away.

He continued deeper into the palace, leaving the guests little time to react.

Lucas, who was on his fourth or fifth champagne, felt his brother's presence nearby. He watched Jasper's arrival from across the hall, his eyes never leaving him. He finished his champagne, placed the glass on a nearby table, and began to walk towards him.

The remaining guests turned to watch Jasper, a mix of alarm and pleasure on their faces. Some were still whispering amongst themselves. Jasper scanned the room, looking for Miro Petrov, but didn't see him. Guests curtsied and bowed as he passed, some conversations abruptly ceasing, others continuing in hushed tones.

"Your Majesty!" Eddie called, hurrying towards him.

Jasper turned to see Eddie approaching from his left. He composed himself, placing his hands behind his back, and greeted Eddie with a nod.

"Your Majesty," Eddie said politely, curtsying.

"What's the rush, Mr. Salvatore?" Jasper asked, his tone even.

"The Prime Minister requests your presence," Eddie reported.

Jasper raised an eyebrow. "Where?"

"He's waiting for you in the private meeting room," Eddie replied formally. "I'll escort you now, sir."

Jasper nodded, and Eddie turned to lead the way. Just then, Lucas, surprisingly unaffected by the copious amounts of champagne he’d consumed, approached his brother.

"Brother!" Lucas greeted casually, opening his arms for a hug.

Jasper stopped, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. He acknowledged Lucas's gesture with a sigh, allowing the hug but offering no real affection in return.

"Brother," Lucas said, eyeing Jasper and the surrounding area, "I see you returned… alone."

Eddie, who had also stopped, remained nearby, politely refraining from interrupting their conversation.

"Your Majesty, I think we should—"

"His Majesty won't mind," Lucas interrupted smoothly, giving Eddie a charming smile.

A tense silence hung in the air. Jasper sighed, then looked at Lucas, his expression neutral and firm. "What is it?" he asked curtly. "Make it quick."

"Mr. Salvatore, would you excuse us for a moment?" Jasper said, nodding towards Eddie.

Eddie, though silent, readily complied, curtsying before leaving them.

Jasper turned back to Lucas, his arms crossed, his expression serious.

"I don't think your personal advisor and I will get along for long," Lucas said with a chuckle, glancing at Eddie's retreating back.

"Why bother?" Jasper retorted. "You don't get along with anyone. Now, say what's on your mind. Don't waste my time."

Lucas chuckled, shrugging off Jasper's sharp tone. "Woah, easy," he smirked. "Is it that time of the month?" he teased.

Jasper’s expression remained serious, unimpressed.

"Well," Lucas said, his tone shifting, "it's about the woman from earlier. Do you know her name?"

"Catherine," Jasper replied quickly, his face still expressionless.

"Catherine… like Catherine the Great?" Lucas mused. "Well, she certainly has a regal air about her. But who am I kidding? She's clearly lost." He chuckled at the thought. "The guests were having a field day discussing her. I overheard one of them say she might be one of those… ladies from the brothels who sometimes try to infiltrate the castle."

"She's a nine-tailed fox," Jasper said quietly.

Lucas's smile vanished, though a hint of amusement still lingered in his eyes. He was silent for a moment, processing the information.

"She's alive, Lucas," Jasper said gravely.

Lucas was speechless, his gaze shifting away as he struggled to find the right words.

"She doesn't know who she is right now," Jasper continued, his voice low and formal, "but she can't escape her past."

"That's impossible," Lucas stammered.

 "She was sealed… It was…" He trailed off, searching for the right words.

"Excuse me," Jasper said, cutting him off.

 He turned and walked towards Eddie, who was waiting a short distance away. He gestured for Eddie to proceed, and they continued on their way to the private meeting room. Lucas was left alone with his thoughts.

Moments later, Jasper and Eddie arrived at the private meeting room. The Prime Minister, Dmitri Orlov, a tall, grey-haired Russian man with a somewhat chubby build and a receding hairline, waited for them. Eddie opened the door for Jasper, who nodded his thanks before stepping inside to face Dmitri. Dmitri rose and offered a formal curtsy. Eddie closed the door behind Jasper.

"Your Majesty," Dmitri greeted formally.

"Prime Minister," Jasper replied, his tone equally formal. "It's good to see you. Did you enjoy the festivities in the grand hall?"

Dmitri paused, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, before offering a small, formal smile. "Indeed," he said, his tone laced with sarcasm, though his words remained polite. "It was quite a show you put on, Your Majesty.".

"I understand you have something to discuss," Jasper said, cutting to the chase. He walked over to a sofa and sat down, maintaining a formal posture. Dmitri mirrored his actions.

"Yes," Dmitri confirmed. "It concerns the concerns of the fish people." He paused.

 "They are worried. They've noted that the land of the wolf people hasn't produced an heir for a long time. They're saying that this land is doomed, that your reign will end without leaving a trace of your lineage." Dmitri delivered this assessment with a serious tone, though a hint of amusement danced in his eyes.

Jasper remained unfazed, a sigh escaping his lips at the mention of marriage and heirs.

"I have served this land, inherited from my ancestors, for years," Jasper countered.

 "There hasn't been a single complaint about my unmarried status. I have proven my ability to rule effectively."

"Can you then explain why you remain unmarried?" Dmitri challenged, his tone losing some of its formality. "Was it not due to your father's… demise?"

Jasper’s expression hardened. He paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the Prime Minister.

"Is this the important matter you wished to discuss?" he asked, his voice now laced with steel. "Bringing up my father's reign is irrelevant—and frankly, idiotic. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I am advising you, Your Majesty," Dmitri snapped, his tone now sharp. "The people need an heir. It shouldn't be a matter of advice, but a requirement."

"Then I shall advise you not to waste my time with trivialities," Jasper retorted, rising to his feet. He maintained eye contact with Dmitri, a tense silence stretching between them.

"Enjoy the rest of the evening," Jasper said, a clear dismissal in his voice. He turned and walked towards the door, leaving Dmitri behind.

Jasper headed out, Eddie opening the door for him. As he left, Eddie, his dispatched attendant, walked beside him, a concerned look on his face.

"Your Majesty," Eddie began formally, "is there anything you desire? I heard from the head chef you haven't had dinner."

Jasper turned, shrugging off the concern with a polite smile. "I need to step out for a bit. I'll be back shortly." He nodded briefly and turned away, leaving Eddie a little perplexed. Eddie hesitated, wanting to say something more, but ultimately decided to let him be.

Jasper went outside to clear his head. The fresh air was a welcome change. He was back at the castle, near the gardens—his favorite spot for quiet contemplation. The back of the gardens, he knew, was usually deserted, making it the perfect escape. It was almost evening; most of the guests were still at the event hall, though some had already departed. Jasper found himself alone with his thoughts, trying to sort through the jumble of emotions he was feeling.

He gazed blankly at the scene before him, the sun slowly sinking below the horizon. His mind wandered, and memories began to surface.

More than a thousand wolfguards, including Emperor Nikolai and his three sons, Jasper, Lucas, and Dmitri, raced through the vast green forest in their wolf forms. Emperor Nikolai and Jasper, both in sleek black wolf forms with piercing yellow eyes, led the charge. Lucas, a striking grey wolf with bright blue eyes, loped alongside Dmitri, a sturdy brown wolf with dark brown eyes. Each of them was the size of an African elephant.

"My sons," Emperor Nikolai commanded, his voice a fierce growl, "remember the plan. Jasper and Dmitri, head north. Lucas, you're with me to the south."

"Huh? Why me?" Lucas grumbled, "I had my own direction in mind."

"Silence!" Emperor Nikolai snapped, his gaze fixed forward, urgency driving him on.

"Guards!" he barked, "We split into three groups. Those favoring Jasper and Dmitri, follow them. The rest, with me and Lucas. Wait for my command before engaging!"

"Yes, sir!" the wolfguards responded in unison.

Lucas, still bristling at being overruled, grumbled under his breath but reluctantly followed his father south. A contingent of wolfguards peeled off to join them. Jasper and Dmitri, meanwhile, veered north, their own escort of guards keeping pace.

The air crackled with tension. A sense of impending conflict hung heavy as the thousand-strong force fanned out across the terrain. They were preparing for a drastic confrontation with an intruder who threatened war upon their land and people.

 Earlier that morning, five wolfguards on duty outside had detected a disturbing scent, a complex mix that confirmed their worst fears. Smoke billowed from both the north and south, the telltale sign of rapidly spreading fires. The blazes had sprung up seemingly out of nowhere, spreading with alarming speed and no discernible origin. Many wolf-folk, noticing the ominous plumes from their windows and doorways, had raised the alarm, and the guards had wasted no time in reporting the situation.

Emperor Nikolai and Lucas raced southward. The fire was visible now, though still distant, growing larger with each passing moment. They maintained their pace, determined to reach the source and discover who, or what, was responsible.

"Whoa…" Lucas breathed, a hint of awe in his voice. "That's a big boy…"

Emperor Nikolai, his expression grim, stared at the inferno. Concern etched itself onto his features, but he remained resolute. He was anxious to uncover the truth behind the fires. If war was indeed upon them, he would meet it head-on. The timing – so close to Jasper's impending ascension to the throne – was unsettling, but it was a matter for later. First, they had to deal with the immediate threat.

Emperor Nikolai, Lucas, and their accompanying wolfguards ran on, their powerful strides eating up the ground.

To the north, Jasper and Dmitri, followed by their own guard detail, pressed onward. Their expressions were serious, their focus unwavering. The acrid smoke from the northern fires stung their nostrils, a constant reminder of the danger. The smoke obscured the once-peaceful sky, a stark testament to the encroaching chaos. Even the wolfguards murmured their surprise at the scale of the blaze.

"Brother," Dmitri rumbled, his voice low and animalistic, "is it war? I can't believe it's happening again."

Jasper remained silent, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his mind wrestling with a multitude of unanswered questions.

"If it's war they want," Dmitri declared, a spark of fierce determination in his eyes, "then I won't hesitate to fight."

Jasper turned his piercing yellow eyes on his brother, his expression unreadable. He offered no reply.

Emperor Nikolai and Lucas reached the edge of the southern firestorm. Flames licked at everything, obscuring both the cause and any potential culprits. They took cover behind a thicket of bushes, the wolfguards following suit. The smoke was thick, acrid, and almost unbearable, testing their patience. The fire greedily consumed everything in its path, from towering trees to delicate wildflowers.

"Father," Lucas suggested, trying to keep his tone neutral, "I should go in. We won't know who's responsible unless we investigate."

"Hold," Emperor Nikolai cautioned, his gaze fixed on the inferno. "We mustn't rush in blindly. We still don't know who's behind this."

Lucas rolled his eyes, a flicker of childish impatience crossing his features. He slumped to the ground, clearly bored, and watched the blaze with a disgruntled frown.

"Your Majesty," Mikhail, the commander of the wolfguards, contacted him telepathically, their minds linked in silent communication, "what are your orders?"

Emperor Nikolai glanced at his commander, his expression grave. He shook his head slowly and returned his attention to the fire. "Same plan. No engagement. We observe first."

Emperor Nikolai, Lucas, Mikhail, and the other wolfguards watched the flames, hoping for a break in the smoke, some sign of movement, any indication of life.

 But there was nothing. The fire raged, a chaotic spectacle, yet eerily silent. No sounds of struggle, no cries for help. The unnatural stillness made the wolfguards uneasy, their impatience growing. They strained their senses, trying to see through the smoke and flames, but found nothing. Lucas, his boredom escalating, finally gave up on watching and sprawled out on the ground.

This is strange, Emperor Nikolai thought. How could the fire continue to grow unchecked? He had already dispatched emergency troops to contain the blaze, but he sensed something was amiss. This wasn't just a simple fire; it was clearly planned, orchestrated by some unknown force. But found nothing. Lucas, his boredom escalating, finally gave up on watching and sprawled out on the ground.

This is strange, Emperor Nikolai thought. How could the fire continue to grow unchecked? He had already dispatched emergency troops to contain the blaze, but he sensed something was amiss. This wasn't just a simple fire; it was clearly planned, orchestrated by some unknown force.