Mira woke to the sound of leaves rustling, claws scratching the soft earth, and the distant hum of battle, though the battlefield itself was gone.
She blinked. The sun was low, spilling gold through the thick canopy of Elderwood Forest. Her body ached, but it was more than just fatigue. Her heart felt heavier. Every movement reminded her she wasn't on Earth. Here, she wasn't even really human—not in the way these creatures saw her.
She tried to sit up and immediately felt the warmth of golden eyes on her.
The wolfman.
He knelt nearby, massive, with fur bristling in the sunlight. His ears twitched like a predator waiting for a signal. "You're awake," he said softly. No growl. No bark. Just the calm of someone who had been holding their breath for centuries.
Mira swallowed, cautious. "Where… am I?"
"This is Elderwood," he replied. His voice was low but steady. "One of the neutral zones between tribes. We brought you here to recover and to explain…" He paused, searching for the right words. "To explain what you are and what you mean to us."
"What I am?" Mira asked, rubbing her arms. "I'm just… me. Human. That's it."
He shook his head. "No. You are the last human. The Heart-Bearer. And your presence is both dangerous and necessary."
Mira's stomach twisted. "Dangerous? To whom? Me?"
"To everyone." He stood and motioned for her to follow. "And yet, no one will harm you. You are protected by our tribes. By me."
She hesitated, then followed. Each step felt like a mix of fear and wonder. The forest around her wasn't just a forest; it felt alive. Trees bent slightly as they passed, and leaves shimmered in colors she didn't recognize. The air smelled of metal, flowers, and something wild.
"Why me?" she asked.
The wolfman glanced at her, his amber eyes softening. "Because humans are different. You feel in ways we cannot. You see in ways we cannot. Your emotions are a power. Your humanity is both a weapon and a shield. When the Frenzy comes"—he spat on the ground—"you will be the anchor that keeps this world from tearing itself apart."
Mira wanted to argue, but the weight of his words pressed down like iron chains. She realized she didn't want to argue. She didn't even know how.
They reached a clearing, and Mira froze.
Dozens of beastmen stood waiting—some seated on rocks, others leaning against trees, all watching her with a mix of reverence, hunger, and curiosity. She counted four types: the wolfmen, towering and golden-eyed; the tigerkin, striped and graceful, muscles coiled like springs; the hawkfolk, wings folded but tense; and the antlered stag warriors, glowing in soft, hypnotic light.
"They're all… watching me?" she whispered.
"Yes," he said. "They are deciding who will serve you, who will protect you, and who will be closest to your Heart."
Mira shivered. Her heartbeat had nothing to do with choice yet all of them seemed to read it and respond. It was overwhelming. She had never felt so noticed, so desired, so important.
A shadow moved at the edge of the group. A hawkfolk glided forward smoothly, wings reflecting the light, eyes sharp as blades. "I am Polemistes," he said, his voice as strong as steel but smooth as velvet. "I'll keep you safe from above. If you allow it, I will stand at your side."
Then the stag warrior stepped forward. His voice was a melody, soft but commanding. "I am Elyon. I guard with patience. I will follow your heart, not the elders' commands."
Finally, the wolfman stepped closer, his body almost shielding her. "I am Ryn. I carried you through the first battle. I will carry you through all the rest, if you let me."
Mira's chest tightened. She hadn't expected this. Affection? Desire? Loyalty? She wasn't sure what she was feeling, but their instincts and unspoken urges were clear. Their devotion was not just about loyalty; it was territory, protection, hunger, and awe all tangled together.
Her humanity, the thing that made her weak and fragile on Earth, was their beacon, their anchor, their obsession.
She closed her eyes. "I… I don't even know where to start."
Ryn lowered his head, a faint growl vibrating through him—less threat and more reverence. "Then start here. Start with trust. Learn our tribes. Learn our world. Learn your gift."
Mira opened her eyes. The forest pulsed with life around her. The tribes watched. And deep in her chest, she felt it—the first spark of understanding.
This world had rules. Beasts had instincts. But she had something that could go beyond those instincts. Something that could bend them.
And if she survived the next battle, perhaps, just perhaps, she could bend even hearts.