Xairo stalked through the valley, his paws crunching on the smooth stones beneath him. The strange white rocks glinted in the fading light, casting an eerie glow. He flicked his forked tongue, tasting the crisp autumn air. This place was different. And that's exactly why he liked it. Marble Wash was the perfect spot to get away from the rest of the pack when they were being annoying. Which was most of the time.

He leapt nimbly up onto a boulder, surveying the riverbed like it was his kingdom. Out here, he could pretend he was in charge. That he was the boss of everyone. Not like back at the den, where the adults were always telling him what to do. Xairo huffed and swished his tail. It wasn't fair. He was almost a year old now - practically an adult. But they still treated him like a dumb pup. He'd show them though. Someday he'd be the strongest, smartest, most important of them all. Then they'd have to respect him.

A flicker of movement caught his eye. A small lizard skittered between two rocks. Xairo crouched, a growl rumbling in his throat. He bunched his haunches beneath him. In a flash, he pounced, pinning the wriggling creature beneath his paws. Xairo glared down at his captive, a surge of satisfaction rushing through him. The lizard squirmed desperately, its tiny claws scrabbling against the hard stone, but it was no match for Xairo's strength. He could crush its delicate bones with one snap of his jaws. The power was intoxicating.

And yet, as quickly as it had come, the thrill faded. Xairo released his grip, watching dispassionately as the lizard raced away and disappeared into a crevice. What was the point? It was just a dumb lizard. Not even worth his time.

"Xairo Saxe"

Annwyn had been following a trail of whispers, or rather—fragments pieced together from the desperate words of the spirit who still clung to this realm. The mother’s voice held hope, vividly enough to draw an image of this… Xairo in her mind—a cocky azure pup with horns and a forked tongue with a flair for rebellion. He would not be easy to miss. Nor would his siblings which Annwyn could visualize clearly. Aurelia had a knack for making her point, didn’t she? She had been searching the north for some time now, seasons maybe. It was hard to tell, her mind so focused on the task. It was a chance at redemption. One she would not let go.

Chains jingling, she perched atop a boulder, her thoughts contemplating her next course of action. Perhaps she had to move even further north, or maybe—her thoughts ceased as a figure drifted into her field of view. The young wolf's dark figure was hunched over a lizard, a short-lived captive as he released it with a disinterested flick of his paw. Ah. Was she still favored by some forgotten God? She smirked faintly; knowing crossing her features and she took account of the boy’s appearance. It was a perfect match. It was the boy, now grown some but undeniably Xairo. Her heart thud heavily in her chest, paws moving with haste. Her approach was marked by the telltale clinking of her metallic accessories, her gaze locked unto him as her features set into a calm composure in preparation to greet him.

"The power of life and death is not always so easily dismissed."Annwyn's voice cut through the quiet like a blade, smooth and sharp, carrying an edge of mockery. She stepped into his line of sight, her head tilted slightly, appraising him like one might inspect a piece of meat. "Pray tell, boy, why let it go?" She paused, letting her gaze rake over him, making a mental list of the oddities of his appearance. He’d do nicely, yes, just a little more time and he could be a powerful man. She stood tall, imposing of frame as she awaited his answer expectantly. Annwyn had no intention of letting this meeting slip by, without trying to rile him up. Whether he burned her or consumed himself in the process.




"Annwyn Myfïol"

Xairo's head snapped up at the sound of the stranger's voice. He rose to his full height, hackles bristling as he glared at the intruder. Who did she think she was, sneaking up on him like that? And what was with all that weird metal clinking all over her? "What's it to you?" he snarled, upper lip curling back to reveal sharp fangs. "I can do whatever I want."

He stalked forward, tail lashing, sizing up this strange female who dared to question him. She was tall for a woman, he'd give her that. Taller than him in his youth- though not by much- and with an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance. Xairo's green eyes narrowed as he studied the intruding female, not bothering to hide his displeasure at her unwelcome appearance. Her mocking tone and appraising gaze set his teeth on edge, stoking the embers of his temper.

"I don't have to explain myself to you," he growled, squaring his shoulders as if he could make up for her height with bravado. "This is my spot. I can crush lizards or let them go, and it's none of your damn business either way."

"Xairo Saxe"

Annwyn’s smirk only grew as Xairo bristled, his hackles rising like a young cub trying to make himself look bigger than he was. His retorts and his defiance alone was amusing, youthful rebellion. She remained where she was, unflinching as he stalked closer, his tail lashing and fangs bared. Who did he get that from, the mother or the father?

"Ah," she drawled, her voice dripping with mockery, "there it is. The fight in you. Your mother spoke of that, too—though she didn’t mention the pupish tantrums." She tilted her head, the chains hanging from her ears jingling with the movement, her bright blue eyes cutting into his like shards of ice. She shifted her weight in the same motion, gaze holding his with the confidence of a woman self-assured. Her smirk softened into something more dangerous—less playful, more predatory. "It is a sin to be so naive." She took a forceful step forward, closing the gap further, her frame casting a half shadow over him. Her voice dropped lower. "The thing about power, boy, is that it doesn’t care about your little ‘spot’ or your petty acts of lashing out. Power claims. And if you don’t learn to wield it, someone else will wield it over you." Her piercing gaze raked over him, sizing him up as he had her—as though saying she could easily overtake him herself.

She straightened, her expression cool and unbothered, as if his snarls and glares were nothing more than the buzzing of an annoying insect. "Now then," she said, her tone shifting back to casual mockery, "will you hold your tongue and listen, or do you actually have some bite behind that bark of yours?" Regardless of his response, Annwyn was ready to reach for her Gods-given assignment.



"Annwyn Myfïol"

Xairo's nostrils flared, his heart pounding a furious rhythm against his ribs. How dare this woman speak to him this way? And how did she know about his mother? A snarl tore from his throat as he lunged forward, snapping his jaws mere inches from her face. "You don't know anything about my mother!" he roared, spittle flying from his maw. "Or about me! I have plenty of bite, and I'll prove it if you don't shut your mouth."

But even as the words left his lips, doubt crept in like a noxious weed. This female didn't seem the least bit intimidated by his display of aggression. If anything, she looked...amused. Like his anger was nothing more than a joke to her. Xairo's tail drooped slightly as uncertainty dampened his rage. Still, he refused to back down, holding his ground as he glowered up at the taller woman. "I don't need you to lecture me about power either." he spat, though his voice lacked its earlier venom. "I know how to take what I want. I don't need anyone else."

"Xairo Saxe"

She let his words hang in the air for a moment, his fury acting like a wildfire sputtering in the face of a steady wind. He was an impatient boy, and that could either serve him well or end his life early… she inwardly scoffed at the idea. Only the God’s knew the answer to that. “You’re right,” she said, her tone quieter now, still carrying an edge. This was the part she warned Aurelia of, of the resistance she would face. It was something she had been willing to overcome of course, but she needed to change her approach a bit. “I don’t know everything about your mother. But I know enough.” Her piercing blue eyes locked onto his, unwavering, unwilling to set him free from her resolved gaze. “I know her desires.” She gestured at him, at the anger and uncertainty radiating from his frame.

The chains all along her sleek framework jingled softly as she shifted, posture relaxing just enough to seem less predatory. More… open. “Do you think she endured so much for you to squander what she gave you? To throw away the birthright you know nothing of?” She tilted her head, her gaze cutting into him. Willing him to heed her words as she subtly began to circle him, her shoulder with the branded away clan marking on full display for him to see. “Your mother speaks to me, of you, of your brother and sister. She tells me what you are capable of, of what I can provide you with. That’s why I’m here, Xairo. To assist you.” The young woman’s voice softened, but it didn’t lose its edge. Instead it was conspiratorial, her eyes glancing around them to see if there were any who dared to interrupt them. Annwyn leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper in the shell of his ear. “Perhaps you are not ready. I wonder if she is right to have such faith in you even in death.” Pulling back, she straightened, her expression cool but no longer mocking. It was almost serene, like she was made of stone. “The choice is yours, Xairo. Listen and decide for yourself, or challenge me and lose the other half of your birthright you were robbed of.”


"Annwyn Myfïol"

Xairo staggered back a step, his eyes going wide with shock. This woman...she knew his name. Knew about his siblings. Impossible. They had never met, and yet she spoke with an eerie familiarity, as if his own mother's ghost whispered secrets in her ear. "You're lying," he accused, but the words sounded hollow even to him. His mind reeled, struggling to make sense of it all. His birth mother had died in labor. And though she sometimes visited him in dreams, guiding him with cryptic messages and promises of power, Xairo had never dared voice those strange visions aloud.

"What do you know of my mother's desires?" he demanded, suspicion and curiosity warring within him. "What is this 'birthright' you speak of?" His gaze flicked to the brand marring her shoulder, the unfamiliar symbol seared into her flesh. Just who was this woman? Xairo's tail lashed in agitation, claws flexing against the cool marble beneath his paws. The woman's offer hung in the air between them, tantalizing and treacherous all at once. Power, she promised. The other half of a birthright stolen from him. It was everything he craved, everything he was certain he deserved.

And yet...

Annwyn's mocking words needled at him, pricking his pride. Who was she to question his mother's faith in him? To imply he wasn't ready, wasn't worthy of the very power she claimed to offer? Xairo's lips curled back, exposing gleaming fangs. "I'm not afraid of you," he growled, meeting her stony gaze with a defiant glare of his own. "And I'm not going to just sit here and let you insult me."

He began to circle her in turn, every muscle coiled with barely restrained aggression. "You say you're here to help me," Xairo challenged, "but I think you just want to manipulate me for your own gain. Why else would you come sneaking around, trying to lure me in with vague promises?" He halted in front of her, drawing himself up to his full height. "If you really knew my mother, if she really sent you, then prove it. Tell me something only she would know." His voice dropped to a near whisper, green eyes blazing. "Tell me about the dreams."

"Xairo Saxe"

Annwyn’s expression remained a mask of calm, though inwardly she relished the fire in Xairo’s gaze. The boy had spirit, and she could work with that. His disbelief, his defiance, all were expected. She allowed him to circle her, her piercing blue eyes tracking his movements—half expecting him to take a nip at her. Her chains jingled yet again as she shifted her weight, her posture relaxed yet commanding. Composed. She rather liked the sound of her earrings so close to her ears, the metallic clinking as her skull went to and fro. When he halted, demanding proof, she allowed the silence to stretch for a heartbeat longer, savoring his exasperation.

Then, with a slow step forward, she leaned in, her voice like a rolling storm. "You think this is about manipulation, boy?"she began, her tone dripping with disdain. "Do you think your mother would send me to you to play games? No. She speaks to me because I am the only one who can help you claim what is yours. That is my personal interest, that you come into your birthright by my hand."

Her gaze softened just enough to be disarming, though the sharpness remained. "You seek proof." she murmured, a laugh entering her voice. "Fine. Let me speak of the dreams you won’t admit to anyone. Of your mother Aurelia." Annwyn’s eyes bored into his, her voice dropping to a whisper now. She smiled, a cold and calculated smile. "She comes to you cloaked in light, doesn’t she? Her voice is like a… melody you can never quite hold onto. She doesn’t speak so much in words, but in feelings—urgency, longing, affection." Her head tilted slightly, her gaze unwavering even as her teeth gleamed past her lips. "But there’s some dreams that stand out, aren't there? The ones that linger more than the rest. The one where she stands before you, where she tells you of the Gods and Goddesses. Of Imbolc, Beltane, Lughnasadh—of the coming Samhain. The three mothers. Tell me I’m wrong, Xairo. Tell me I’m lying."

She straightened, her voice sharp, an attempt to cut through any doubt he might have. "Your mother has given you these dreams because she knows the power that lies dormant within you. But power is useless without purpose or guidance. That is what I offer. Not vague promises, but the means to fulfill your mother’s vision… The choice is still yours, but make it wisely, for this is what little remains of your birthright." Annwyn took a step back, her lean form relaxed as could be. Her expression was serene once more, but her gaze remained intense as it always was. Staring right through whatever she beheld. "Now," she said, her voice quieter but no less confident, "what will it be, Xairo?" Yes, would he run and hide from his fate; or would he embrace it?



"Annwyn Myfïol"

Xairo felt his breath catch in his throat, the witch’s words striking him like physical blows. How? How could she possibly know such intimate details of his dreams - visions he had never breathed a word of to anyone? A chill raced down his spine, prickling his fur despite himself. This was impossible...and yet the proof stood before him, as solid and undeniable as the marble beneath his paws.

"The three mothers..." he whispered, more to himself than to her. The phrase resonated deep within him, conjuring half-remembered images from his most vivid dreams. His mother, shining and ethereal, murmuring of ancient powers and sacred days. A birthright. A destiny.

He hated this. Hated the way it made him feel exposed. Hated the way this stranger had unraveled him to his core. Xairo swallowed hard, his mind racing as he struggled to reconcile the woman’s uncanny knowledge with his stubborn pride. He couldn't deny the truth of her words, as much as he wanted to. But admitting she was right felt like losing ground, and Xairo was not accustomed to losing anything. "Fine," he growled at last, the word tasting bitter on his tongue. "Let's say I believe you. Let's say my mother really did send you." His eyes flashed, hackles rising once more. "That doesn't mean I trust you. Or that I'm just going to roll over and do whatever you say."

Xairo began pacing, his agitated energy needing an outlet. "You talk about my power, my birthright, but you still haven't told me what any of that actually means. What exactly is this 'destiny' my mother supposedly has planned for me? And what's in it for you?" He rounded on her then, stopping just shy of invading her personal space, his muzzle mere inches from hers. "Because I'm not interested in being anyone's puppet or pawn. If you want my cooperation, you'd better start giving me some straight answers."

Xairo held her gaze, unflinching, refusing to be the first to look away. His heart thundered in his chest, but he kept his expression hard, determined not to let her see even a flicker of vulnerability.

"Xairo Saxe"