Chapter 78: What the Storm Leaves Behind
The fog did not thin when the caravan stopped.
It simply settled.
Heavy. Close. Pressed in from every direction like the marsh itself had leaned closer to listen.
Boots squelched as people shifted their weight. Someone coughed and immediately stifled it. A horse snorted and was hushed by a low, urgent whisper. No fires were lit. No one argued Garrik's earlier order.
The trail of blue scorched mud lay ahead of them like a wound that refused to close.
Aiden stood near the front of the formation, muscles still tight from the fight that felt both distant and painfully recent. The afterimage of lightning lingered behind his eyes every time he blinked. His breath fogged in front of his face, slow and controlled, but his heartbeat hadn't fully settled.
The System was quiet.
Not gone—never gone—but quiet in the way a predator went still after a kill.
Myra hovered just to his left, closer than she had any right to be. Her hand brushed his sleeve every few steps, not quite holding on, not quite letting go. Her eyes kept drifting to the faint blue marks in the mud, then forward into the fog beyond.
Nellie walked on his other side, clutching her satchel with both hands. She was trying to be brave. He could see it in the way she held her shoulders square, in the careful way she placed her feet.
It didn't stop her from flinching every time the fog crackled.
Garrik raised a fist.
The caravan halted as one.
He crouched, inspecting the scorched footprints without touching them. His brow furrowed, lines deepening around eyes that had seen too many roads like this one.
"Lightning's fading," he muttered. "Fresh, but not fresh enough to be standing right on top of us."
Myra swallowed. "So… it's ahead?"
Garrik didn't look at her. "Or watching from the side. Or doubled back. Lightning beasts don't move like normal animals."
A hunter behind them spat softly into the mud. "We should turn around."
"And go where?" Garrik snapped. "Back toward the Fangback's blood? You want to draw everything in a mile radius?"
That shut him up.
Garrik straightened and turned, his gaze sweeping the caravan. When his eyes landed on Aiden, they lingered a fraction longer than before.
"You," he said. "You felt it, didn't you."
Aiden didn't pretend otherwise. "Yes."
Not a question. Not an explanation.
Just the truth.
Garrik nodded once, like that confirmed something he'd already suspected. "Then you walk point with me. Quiet feet. Eyes up."
Myra bristled instantly. "He's not—"
"I'm going," Aiden said, gently but firmly.
She looked at him, jaw tight. "Aiden—"
"I'll be right there," he said. "Five steps ahead. That's it."
Nellie's fingers tightened in his sleeve. "Please don't… disappear."
He crouched slightly so he could meet her eyes. "I won't."
He meant it.
He didn't know how he knew, but he did.
Garrik was already moving, spear held low, steps careful and deliberate. Aiden followed, senses stretching outward, not through thought but through something deeper—an awareness that sat beneath his skin, humming faintly.
The marsh shifted.
Reeds bent where there was no wind. Water rippled in slow, deliberate circles. Somewhere far off, something splashed once, then went still.
Aiden's instincts whispered.
Not danger.
Not safety.
Attention.
The blue trail curved slightly to the right, skirting a patch of deeper water. Garrik followed it, and Aiden followed Garrik, counting his steps without meaning to.
One.
Two.
Three.
The fog ahead thinned just enough for shapes to emerge.
A fallen log.
A cluster of stones.
And beyond them—
Aiden stopped so abruptly Garrik nearly ran into him.
"There," Aiden breathed.
At first, Garrik saw nothing.
Then the fog shifted again.
A small shape lay curled beside the log, silver fur dulled with mud and blood. Blue light pulsed faintly beneath its skin, uneven and weak, like a heartbeat struggling to keep time.
The lightning wolf pup.
It was alive.
Barely.
Myra gasped softly behind them.
Nellie made a small, broken sound.
Garrik swore under his breath. "Storm take me…"
The pup lifted its head at the sound, eyes snapping open. The glow in them flared instinctively—then flickered.
It tried to stand.
Its injured leg buckled.
It collapsed back into the mud with a thin, frustrated whine that cut straight through Aiden's chest.
"Easy," Aiden said without thinking.
He stepped forward before Garrik could stop him.
The pup tensed immediately, weak lightning crackling along its spine. Not an attack. A warning born of fear and pain.
Aiden stopped where he was and slowly lowered himself to one knee.
"I'm not here to hurt you," he said quietly.
The words felt… right.
The System stirred, just enough for a single line to surface at the edge of his awareness.
[Beast State: Exhausted]
[Threat Level: Low]
Myra moved up beside him despite Garrik's sharp look. She didn't kneel. She didn't reach out.
She just spoke.
"You didn't have to do that back there," she said softly. "But you did."
The pup's ears twitched.
Its gaze shifted to her, locking on with an intensity that made Aiden's breath catch.
The air between them crackled faintly.
Nellie edged closer, hands already moving to open her satchel. "I-I can help," she whispered. "If it lets me."
Garrik's voice was low and hard. "This is a mistake."
Aiden didn't look back. "Maybe."
He shifted slightly, angling his body so he wasn't blocking Myra or Nellie, but still placing himself between the pup and the rest of the caravan.
A choice.
Clear. Deliberate.
The pup's breathing hitched.
Slowly—so slowly it barely counted as movement—it lowered its head back to the ground.
The lightning dimmed.
Nellie swallowed and took that as permission.
She knelt in the mud, fingers trembling as she pulled out clean cloth, crushed herbs, a small vial of amber liquid. "This will sting," she murmured, more to herself than the pup.
She waited.
The pup didn't move.
When she touched its injured leg, it flinched—but didn't snap. Didn't growl.
Didn't run.
Nellie worked with careful, shaking precision, cleaning the wound, pressing herbs into torn flesh. Blue sparks jumped weakly against her fingers, making her gasp, but she didn't pull away.
Aiden watched the System flicker again.
[Beast Affinity: Resonance Detected]
[Secondary Link: Myra Lynell — Active]
He frowned slightly.
Secondary.
That mattered.
Myra seemed to feel it too. She pressed a hand to her chest, breath catching. "It's… cold," she whispered. "Like a storm right before it breaks."
The pup shifted closer to her without fully standing, drawn by something neither of them could explain.
Garrik exhaled slowly through his nose. "If we're doing this," he said, voice rough, "we do it fast. We don't camp. We don't linger."
"Agreed," Aiden said.
The pup's eyes lifted to him again.
This time, there was no fear in them.
Only exhaustion.
And something like trust.
It tried to stand once more.
Failed.
Without thinking, Aiden moved.
He slid an arm under its chest and another beneath its hindquarters, lifting carefully. The pup was lighter than he expected—too light for something that carried so much power.
It startled at first, lightning flaring weakly.
Aiden held steady.
"I've got you," he murmured.
The crackling faded.
Myra stared at him. "You're just… picking it up?"
"Seems like it wants help," he said. "I'm helping."
The pup sagged against him, head resting briefly against his shoulder. The contact sent a sharp, tingling warmth through his chest, not painful—just intense.
The System pulsed once.
[Condition Met: Temporary Escort]
Nellie looked up at him, eyes shining. "I—I think it trusts you."
"Us," Myra corrected softly.
Garrik turned away with a scowl. "Storms and fools," he muttered. Then, louder: "Move out. Now."
The caravan obeyed.
They didn't speak as they walked.
The fog seemed to part just a little ahead of them, not clearing, but thinning enough to guide their steps. Aiden adjusted his grip as the pup shifted, careful not to jostle the injured leg.
It let out a faint, tired huff.
"See?" Myra whispered. "You're already a terrible influence."
He almost laughed.
They walked until his legs burned and his arms ached and the marsh began to change beneath their feet—mud giving way to firmer ground, reeds thinning, water retreating.
Only when Garrik finally called a halt did Aiden realize how far they'd gone.
The fog behind them felt… heavier.
The fog ahead felt quieter.
Aiden gently set the pup down near a cluster of stones. It curled in on itself immediately, breathing slow and shallow but steady.
Nellie sat beside it, exhausted, mud-streaked, smiling through tears.
Myra sat beside Aiden, shoulder pressed to his.
Garrik looked at the three of them for a long moment.
"This changes things," he said.
Aiden nodded. "Yeah."
The pup's tail twitched once, faint lightning tracing the air like a promise.
Somewhere deep in the marsh, thunder rumbled.
Not above them.
Ahead.
And Aiden knew, with a certainty that settled into his bones, that whatever waited at Ironwake—
The storm had already chosen its path.