Wolf cub?

“Lucien Veynar.”

The sharp call echoed across the polished stone courtyard, silencing whispers and shuffling feet. Lucien straightened, heart thumping with rhythm through the summoning circle before him. 

“Step into the circle,” Vael said, voice carrying through the hall like steel. “It is your turn, Lucien Veynar. Place your hand upon the stone and focus.”

Toren nudged him from behind. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a glowing circle. Honestly, golden boy, if that’s the case, I’ll—”

“Shut up, Toren,” Lucien snapped, though his voice was shaky. His eyes flicked toward the circle, engraved with twisting runes that shimmered faintly. He could feel the mana hovering in the air, the threads vibrating like tension coiled in silk.

Arian’s calm voice came from beside him. “Breathe. You don’t have to be the strongest. Just let it find you.”

Lucien’s shoulders eased slightly. Arian’s presence always did that—grounded him. “Easy for you to say. You could summon a dragon if you wanted.”

Arian’s lips curved faintly. “I could. But you don’t need that, Lucien.”

“Don’t get philosophical now,” Lucien muttered, stepping toward the circle. His heart thudded in his ears. His mana—low as it was—buzzed faintly, almost hesitant.

Professor Vael raised a hand. “Focus. Let the energy guide you. It will resonate with what belongs to you. Do not force it, or it will resist.”

Lucien nodded. He crouched slightly, placing his palm on the stone. Heat trickled through his fingers. The runes glowed brighter, spiraling upward like smoke. His pulse raced as he closed his eyes, centering on the one thread of instinct he always trusted: himself.

The air shimmered. A ripple of light, silver and blue, coalesced at the center. Shadows twisted, elongating, then collapsed into form.

A soft whine echoed through the hall, barely audible over the murmurs. Lucien’s eyes flew open.

A small wolf cub crouched in the center of the circle, fur dark black, eyes glinting gold. It stared at him, ears flicking nervously, tail flicking like a pendulum.

“Cute,” Toren whispered from the sidelines. “I call dibs on the annoying one.”

The cub yipped, then barked once, sharp and clear, before crouching lower and scuttling a step closer to Lucien.

Lucien froze. Its gaze was intense, not threatening, but measuring. Something in that look pulled at him, stirring a faint memory he couldn’t place. He swallowed hard and extended a hand slowly.

The cub sniffed it, then nuzzled against his palm, soft and warm.

“Resonance confirmed,” Vael intoned. “Lucien Veynar, you have chosen your companion.”

Lucien exhaled, relief rushing through him. “You… you’re mine?” he murmured. The cub blinked slowly, then pressed its small head into his chest. Its warmth, its heartbeat against his own—it felt inexplicably familiar. Is it because this cub is my companion but somehow it feels nostalgic.

Arian, already having finished his own ceremony, stepped forward, silver hair catching the torchlight. “Looks like you found someone loyal. That’s good. You’ll need the guidance.”

Toren rolled his eyes. “Pfft. A wolf cub? Really? Mine’s going to breathe fire and shred my enemies.”

Elira smirked, observing her own companion—a lithe serpent with emerald scales coiling around her arm. “Power isn’t everything. Observe and learn. Some companions grow stronger with their bond, not their size.”

Lucien bent slightly, brushing a hand through the cub’s soft fur. “You’re… different from what I expected.”

The cub barked softly, then pawed at him, tail wagging gently. Lucien felt warmth rise in his chest. There was trust here. There was a connection, simple and undeniable.

Caelith had chosen last. His companion—a sleek, midnight-blue hawk—spread its wings and let out a soft cry, scanning the courtyard with piercing eyes. “I’m satisfied,” Caelith said, voice quiet, almost detached, but the glint in his eyes betrayed satisfaction.

The ceremony continued as students took their turns. Each summoning, each bond, was a dance of mana and instinct. Colors flared, shapes shifted, creatures of flame, shadow, wind, and stone appearing before their chosen mage. Some shrieked, some coiled, some nuzzled.

Arian’s companion—a majestic silver lynx with eyes like polished amethyst—arched gracefully around him, tail swishing. The lynx paused at Lucien’s glance, its gaze acknowledging the bond without arrogance, radiating quiet power. 

Lucien watched, feeling a pang of awe. Even the cub shivered in excitement, sensing the presence of something grander.

Vael’s voice cut through the courtyard once more. “All students have selected their companions. Remember this: the bond is not static. You must nurture it, respect it, and listen to it. Today you claim your partner. Tomorrow, you begin the work of synchrony.”

The crowd dispersed, voices buzzing with awe and chatter. Lucien lingered slightly, kneeling beside the cub. It nuzzled his hand again, soft and warm.

“Alright, little one,” Lucien whispered, voice low. “We’ll figure this out… together.”

The cub blinked at him, tilting its head as if understanding the weight behind his words.

“Is it just me, or is he weirdly obedient?” Toren asked, leaning over Lucien’s shoulder.

“I think he’s… sensing you,” Lucien muttered, brushing a stray lock of silver fur behind its ear. “He knows we belong together.”

Arian’s soft chuckle came from behind him. “You’re saying that like it’s a revelation. Some things are obvious.”

Lucien glanced up. “And you…? Your lynx is perfect as always.”

Arian’s gaze softened faintly. “It suits me. As you do yours.”

The comment made Lucien’s chest tighten. He coughed lightly, pretending to adjust his sleeve. “Focus on your own companion, not me.”

Toren snorted. “Focus? Golden boy, you’re already talking to it like it’s your advisor. You’re doomed.”

Lucien ignored him, letting his attention return to the cub. “Don’t get any ideas,” he murmured, pressing his forehead lightly against the cub’s head. “I’m in charge here… mostly.”

The cub yipped, almost in response, nudging against him again. Its warmth and trust grounded him, something he didn’t realize he needed so badly.

As the students filed out, Lucien stayed kneeling, allowing the cub to circle him, sniffing and pawing playfully. Its small body radiated strength and loyalty. He felt… connected. Not just to the companion, but to this life, this world he had been navigating since he awoke as a child.

Arian crouched beside him, watching the interaction quietly. “Do you ever wonder,” he murmured, “how some bonds are… different from others?”

Lucien’s gaze met his. “I don’t know. Maybe some are just… meant to be.”

Arian’s lips curved slightly. “Or perhaps, they remember what they’ve lost, even if you don’t.”

Lucien blinked, startled by the implication, but didn’t question it. He couldn’t.

The cub whimpered softly, nuzzling his chest again. Lucien chuckled quietly. “Alright, little one. Let’s start small. No world-saving today. Just… you and me.”

The cub barked once, sharply, then padded to the edge of the circle, then back to him, tail wagging. Its eyes glinted in the afternoon light, bright and sharp, almost as if it held secrets it wasn’t allowed to tell.

Lucien leaned back on his heels, resting a hand on the cub’s head. “You have no idea how much trouble I get into,” he murmured softly. “But… I finally get to see you.”

The cub tilted its head, ears flicking, and let out a soft, contented growl.

He didn’t elaborate. Some things, he decided, had to remain between him and the companion. Between the past he couldn’t remember much but remembers quite well and the life he was building now.

And for the first time in weeks, a sense of calm settled over him.

---

The cub nudged his hand again, tail flicking like a pendulum. Its eyes gleamed knowingly, almost mischievously.

Lucien whispered, low enough that no one else could hear, “we're meant to be huh…?”

The cub yipped softly, pressing its head against his chest, but made no sound beyond that.

Lucien didn’t press further. Some mysteries, he realized, would reveal themselves in time.

•••