Chapter 1: Happy days

"Please be still, daughter." Gregor jokingly pulled his daughter by her long ear.

"I am standing still!" Aranea fiercely argued, trying to catch his hand, "You are the one who is messing with me!"

Kalaisa only smiled at this. To the outsider's eye, they could be seen as a strange couple. Kalaisa was once of the Wolf Tribe, a tribe of the wolfkin people from the Ravaged Lands. Her large, black furred form dwarfed even the figure of her husband, standing head and shoulders above him. Her amber eyes glowed brightly like a pair of flashlights, a sign of her former rank as a warlord. Her snout was long, and her thick black fur was capable of stopping even bullets. Right now, her fur was clean, carefully combed, and shining in the soft lighting of the room. She was wearing a simple black dress and a silver necklace, with the symbol of the Wintersong family, around her neck.

Gregor was a wolfkin of the Ice Fang order, an order of warriors coming from the distant north. His order served under his excellency Wyrm Lord for a long while, before constant clashes between the two tribes of wolfkins forced Wyrm Lord to hand over ownership of the Ice Fang order to his excellency Devourer. In the lands of Devourer, the Ice Fang order has become an influential organization, responsible for restoration efforts and for guarding the border from roaming bands of bandits and raiders. As fewer and fewer bandits dared to attack in recent years, many members of the Ice Fang order left the military to pursue other opportunities. Gregor was a tall wolfkin, his fur a snow-white color. He was wearing the white and blue ceremonial clothes of a noble member of the Wintersong family, and a long sword in a golden sheath was on his belt. Ten years ago, Gregor made a pilgrimage to the far north, the homeland of the Ice Fang order. Upon returning, he was accepted into the Wintersong family and reached the rank of knight captain in the order. Gold rings were woven into the fur of his lower jaw, a silver necklace, identical his wife's, shone brightly around his neck. His eyes were crimson in color, not glowing with inner flame like those of his wife, yet still very visible red orbs.

Aranea Wintersong, daughter of Kalaisa and Gregor Wintersong, stood between her parents, clothed in a blue dress. Four weeks ago, her family celebrated her third birthday. The wolfkins of the Ice Fang order were still small at this age and could barely talk. Yet Aranea had the blood of her mother in her, and the color of her fur was that of the night. Aranea was already reaching up to her father's waist and was growing taller and bigger with each passing day. Unlike her cousins of the Ice Fang order of similar age, Aranea could already talk and even read books. The members of the Wolf Tribe grew up at a vastly different rate than their cousins. One eye of Aranea was a yellow color, while the other was crimson, a sign of her father’s bloodline. The fur around the red eye was pale, as if to remind the young cub that she was a child of both worlds.

They stood in front of the painter, a wolfkin from the Ice Fang order who decided not to join the military. The man was busy creating their portrait, copies of which will later be inserted into three medallions Gregor ordered for each member of the family to remember this moment of time. The family stood still for nearly an hour, and soon Gregor began to have fun teasing his daughter.

Aranea hated it when her father tricked her into making a fool of herself.

"Please, just a few moments more!" The painter pleaded, as Aranea turned to jump at her father, "I am almost finished!"

"Oh!" The girl quickly returned to position, becoming still like a statue once again, "My apologies, sir."

Aranea could hear her parents whispering to each other.

"Stop teasing her, dear." Kalaisa smiled.

"But it’s so cute when she loses her temper," Gregor joked, "I will be leaving for a whole month, so I want to take every opportunity I can now."

"Dad, you can always call me over the terminal." Aranea whispered carelessly.

"Ah, but it's just not the same thing," The painter gave a thumb's up, signaling completion, and Gregor cracked his muscles, spreading his shoulders wide. Ignoring protests from his daughter, he grabbed her and put her on his left shoulder, "I won't be seeing you for a long time, little one, so today I will be treating you to anything you want. How about a snack? Candies, meat, or honey, perhaps? Or how about these strange vegetable dishes from Oathtakers that have recently appeared on the market? Or should we take a ride around the city?"

The family left the room, moving toward the vast hall that led to the inner chambers of the New Dawn fortress. The walls were decorated with paintings, and the floors were covered with rich carpets. The Ice Fang order wasn't poor, having accumulated much wealth over the years.They were closely involved in the construction of new cities, inspiring the population, and healing the sick and wounded. The Ice Fang order was an ever-growing force within the state, always striving for excellence.

"Dad, stop embarrassing me! I can walk just fine." Aranea tried to break free, but Gregor held her with ease.

"Nope. Let the entire world laugh if they want to, what do we care? Childhood is a fleeting thing and let the Spirits damn me if I allow you to waste yours in attempts to act grown up," Wintersong waived his paw dismissively.

"Well, then, I want to learn how to fight properly," Aranea said stubbornly, "Other cubs train all day in the sword halls, why can’t I join them?"

"Honey, you are still a bit too young for this." Kalaisa smiled and patted Aranea’s head gently. "And besides, there is so much more in the world besides fighting. You can become an artist or an engineer. Just imagine, with your own paws, you can create paintings as beautiful as these," She pointed at the walls. One of the paintings depicted the Twins and Ravager, standing side by side in a rare moment of peace. The painter had to create this piece of art from the photo, for Ravager simply could not stand in the presence of the Twins for long without trying to dominate them. Desire to be the strongest was in the very blood of Ravager. The Twins were dressed in doublets of pristine white and trousers of the same color. The man had a longbow behind his back, the woman had a long sword on her hip. Ravager, meanwhile, was without any clothes, her fur was the color of the utter void, the only weapons that the blessed mother had ever needed, her trusted claws, were hidden deep inside her fingers. Both Twins were smiling, but Ravager appeared unhappy and out of place, "Or learn how to create world-class technological marvels. You can learn how to heal people…"

"Boring!" Aranea rejected the idea, "I can fight with wooden swords just as well as Keyl can. Every time we spar, he always ends up in the mud. Mom, I've heard what others say about you. You were a warlord, the greatest of the great, a fighter with no equals! I want to be like you, I want to even surpass you one day! To crush the enemies of the Dynast and restore the world to humanity! " Aranea allowed her claws to slide out of her fingers and pointed them at imaginary enemies, imagining how she would shred them.

"There were plenty of people stronger than me. Even today, there are many who can crush me into dust without looking." Kalaisa said softly, "Dear, you have no idea what fighting really is, and, if the Spirits will it, you will never know. To feel the pulsating sensation in your blood, to see the crushed forms of enemies in front of you...To lose dear friends, again and again… No, I will never let you choose this path," Kalaisa shook her head, "I became much happier when I left the war and began my new career as a doctor."

"But why!" The girl yelled angrily. "Battles still rage on in the world! Father leaves us to fight. Everyone knows there is a danger or two out there. Each day, our people risk their lives to tame the wilderness. Just because you chose to hide and…"

"Your mother is not a coward," Gregor said, dropping to one knee and lowering his shoulder to look into his daughter's eyes. "She has a... condition. She can’t fight anymore, or a bad thing will happen to her. And yet she saves lives even now." Aranea knew what her father meant. Her mother often left home to work at a hospital. When there was a shortage of doctors in the neighboring city, Kalaisa had left for two whole months to work there.

"This is exactly why I need to become a warrior!" The girl furiously snarled back, "I need to pick up the slack. What if someone tries to hurt Mom while you are away? I need to become stronger to protect our home, to…"

"Protect our home?" The knight captain laughed, standing up, "From whom? Dear, you are in one of the safest places in the world! Relax and have fun. No one will ever dare touch you here."

Aranea folded her hands on her chest stubbornly. No one sings songs about doctors. No one sings songs about engineers. No one builds statues in honor of the workers. Artists themselves were creating statues of generals, captains, and great warriors. She wanted to become a legendary warrior like her mother.

And one day I will. She decided. Her eyes would glow with the same light as her mother's. Foes would tremble at her name. She would become someone who would inspire others. Someone who protects the weak.