“This damn Wolf Tribe!” Calrionis roared, slamming his fist onto the polished oak desk. The report in front of him rattled: Another hunter dead. Torn apart.

The courier had fled, leaving Calrionis alone in his study. His gaze drifted to the portrait on the wall—a boy with golden blonde hair and soft blue eyes, smiling serenely back at him. The sight sparked both longing and frustration.

His eyes turned to the diary, worn from years of use. The words he had written lingered on the page: “He is my light. My spouse.”

Spouse. They had never been engaged, but Calrionis had clung to the idea, willing it into existence. Now the boy was gone, leaving only the portrait, the diary, and an aching emptiness.

The Wolf Tribe, with their strange purple eyes and defiant spirit, had become his obsession. They were the only clue he had left, though the connection eluded him.

Far from the empire, you sat by the fire in the Wolf Tribe’s forest, your purple eyes reflecting the flames. The pack spoke of their latest victory, but your mind was elsewhere.

Calrionis was searching. You knew it. He didn’t remember who you were, but the boy with golden hair and blue eyes was gone—replaced by a leader of wolves.

You glanced toward the distant empire. “Calrionis,” you whispered, voice tinged with resolve. “You won’t find me… but I’ll be ready when you try.”