Chapter 2: Silver Hollow’s Sorrow

Below was a vast blue lake, and in the distance, a mist-shrouded island.

The water sparkled under the moon, calm and endless. The island rose from the mist like a memory, half-formed and haunting. My heart beat faster, anticipation and dread warring inside me.

The moment I saw it, my heart clenched as if gripped by an invisible hand.

Silver Hollow.

My home.

Three thousand years. I was finally back.

The air tasted different here—sharper, tinged with longing and loss. I swallowed hard, the weight of centuries pressing down on me.

His touch was a quiet promise.

The moonlit cloud drifted through the mist, landing gently before Silver Hollow.

I stared at the scene before me, my chest weighed down by a heavy stone.

The land was quiet, almost too quiet. The trees stood still, their branches bare and brittle. The wind carried the faintest scent of maple and smoke, a ghost of what once was.

Was this really the home I remembered?

Was this the Silver Hollow where the maples blazed year-round and the fruit never stopped?

The memories warred with reality, each step forward making the truth harder to bear. The colors were faded, the vibrancy gone, but the bones of the place remained.

The mountain was still there, but the wild energy was gone. It felt empty.

The waterfall by the Moonlit Den was now just a few thin streams, like an old man’s tears.

The sound was weak, a mere echo of the roaring cascade I remembered. Moss clung to the rocks, and the water trickled sadly, as if mourning what had been lost.

Maple trees all over the mountain were withered and dying. The air was thick with rot, the wild scent long gone.

The leaves crunched underfoot, brittle and brown. The rot hung heavy in the air, a reminder that even the wildest places can be tamed—or destroyed—by time and neglect.

"Alpha…" The wolf wrung his paws nervously. "All these years, the world’s wild energy has dried up. We… haven’t had it easy."

His voice was thick with guilt, his ears drooping. I could see the strain etched into every line of his face, the weight of survival pressing down on him.

I stepped forward.

With every step, the earth trembled faintly under my feet, as if welcoming its pack leader home.

The ground seemed to remember me, the old magic stirring in response. I felt the eyes of the land upon me, waiting, hoping.

Fragments of memories flashed in my mind;

Packs of young wolves playing among the maples, me teaching them to hunt beneath the waterfall, nights spent around a bonfire sharing wild apples…

The laughter, the warmth, the sense of belonging—they all came rushing back. I could almost hear the crackle of the fire, the howl of the pack beneath the stars.

"Where are the others?" I looked around. The mountain was eerily quiet.

The silence was oppressive, broken only by the distant drip of water and the soft rustle of dying leaves. My heart pounded, fear and hope tangled together.

The wolf lowered his head. "Some are gone, some scattered. There are only a few dozen of us old-timers left."

His words were a knife to the heart. I felt the loss keenly, each absence a wound that would never fully heal.

We climbed the desolate path up the mountain. Here and there, a few bleached bones lay by the roadside—some from wolves, some clearly from other animals.

The path was steep, the stones slick with moss. The bones were a stark reminder of all that had been lost, the price paid for survival. I stepped carefully.

The higher we went, the heavier my heart grew.

Grief settled on my shoulders, heavy and unrelenting. The air grew colder, the shadows deeper. Still, I pressed on, driven by a need to see what remained.

In front of the Moonlit Den, a dozen or so old wolves with graying fur huddled together.

They looked up as we approached, their eyes wary, bodies hunched against the cold. I saw scars, missing limbs, the marks of a thousand battles fought and lost.

When they saw us, they pulled back, wary at first.

Their ears flattened, tails tucked. For a moment, I wondered if they would turn me away, refuse to believe I was who I claimed to be.

Then, one squinted his cloudy eyes and suddenly let out a trembling howl.

The sound was thin, but it carried. The others lifted their heads, hope flickering in their eyes for the first time in years.

"It’s the Alpha! The Alpha is back!"

The cry was picked up by the others, their voices joining in a ragged chorus. I felt tears prick at my eyes, the weight of their faith almost too much to bear.

The old wolves erupted into motion. Some leaned on fallen branches as canes, some dragged crippled hind legs, all scrambling to reach me.

They pressed close, their bodies warm and trembling. I could feel their relief, their joy, their desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be better again.

They surrounded me, trembling paws touching the hem of my coat, cloudy tears streaming down their wrinkled faces.

"Alpha, you’re finally back…"

Their voices were soft, reverent. I knelt down, letting them touch me, comfort me. The years melted away, and for a moment, I was home.

"Three thousand years, we’ve waited so long…"

The words were a balm and a wound, both at once. I felt their longing, their pain, their unshakeable loyalty. My throat tightened, the urge to weep overwhelming.

"We knew you wouldn’t abandon us…"

They said it with such conviction, such faith. I wished I could believe it myself, wished I could erase the years of absence and loss.

I stood there, my throat tight.

Despite everything, I could still see traces of the young wolves they once were.

Their eyes still held the spark of youth, the glimmer of mischief and courage. I smiled.

But time and suffering had ravaged them beyond recognition.

Their bodies bore the scars of survival, their spirits battered but unbroken. I felt a surge of pride, mingled with guilt. They had endured, even when I could not.

A wave of guilt crashed over me.

It threatened to drown me, the knowledge that I had been gone while they suffered. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet their eyes.

"Where’s Old Gray?"

I looked around.

I recognized the old pack, but the wisest of them all was missing.

His absence was a hollow ache, a question that demanded an answer. I scanned the crowd, searching for the one who had always been my guide. But he wasn’t there.

The old wolves fell silent, exchanging glances.

Their eyes met, silent messages passing between them. The air grew heavy with unspoken words.

At last, one with a missing right ear pointed toward the Moonlit Den. "The Elder… he’s been waiting for you."

His voice was soft, respectful. The others nodded, stepping aside to let me pass. I felt their eyes on my back as I entered the den.

Inside, the den was darker and damper than I remembered. It felt smaller, too.

The air was thick with the scent of earth and old fur. Shadows clung to the walls, the only light a faint glow from a dying ember in the corner.

By the faint light, I saw a hunched figure sitting on a stone, clutching something tightly to his chest.

His body was frail, his fur patchy and dull. He rocked gently.

Humming a tune I half-remembered from childhood.

"Old Gray?" I called softly.

My voice trembled, the name tasting strange and familiar on my tongue. The figure stirred, lifting his head with effort.

The figure slowly looked up.

The face was almost unrecognizable—

Once sleek fur now dry and brittle, once bright eyes now clouded with cataracts.

But when he saw me, his eyes suddenly lit up.

"Alpha…" His voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible. "This old wolf knew… you’d come back…"

The words were a lifeline, anchoring me to the past. I knelt beside him, taking his paw in mine.

He shakily held out what he’d been hugging.

A Crown of Silver Feathers.

My old crown.

The sight of it stole my breath.

The feathers gleamed, delicate and perfect, a symbol of all I had once been. My hands shook as I reached for it, memories crowding in.

Suddenly, a torrent of memories crashed into my mind.

I saw myself, crowned, standing atop the mountain as all the wolves bowed in worship; I saw myself swinging the Crescent Rod, facing a hundred thousand night sentinels;

I saw… I saw myself sneaking back to Silver Hollow late one night, only to find envoys from the High Court draining the mountain’s wild energy…

The betrayal was sharp, a knife twisting in my gut. I remembered the rage, the helplessness, the vow I’d made to protect my home at any cost.

"The second rebellion against the Court…" I pressed my temples as the shattered memories churned in my mind like shards of glass. "It wasn’t just about the Harvest Feast… they were stealing the world’s wild energy all along…"

The truth burned. I looked at Old Gray, seeing the pain and pride in his eyes.

Old Gray started coughing violently, and the one-eared wolf hurried over to steady him. "Elder, please don’t get too worked up…"

His cough was harsh, rattling in his chest. The other wolf rubbed his back, murmuring words of comfort. I felt helpless.

"Tell him…" Old Gray clutched my hand tightly. "Tell the Alpha everything…"

His grip was surprisingly strong, his eyes boring into mine. I nodded, turning to the one-eared wolf for answers.

The one-eared wolf nodded and turned to me.

"Alpha, after you disappeared, the High Court went even further."

His voice was steady, but I could hear the anger simmering beneath the surface. The others gathered closer, listening intently.

"Not only did they drain the wild veins, they set up massive barriers, sucking the wild energy from all four lands right into the Court."

The words hit me like a hammer. I pictured the world growing weaker, the Court growing fat on stolen power. My hands clenched, the Crescent Rod vibrating with fury.

"The living things below grew weaker and weaker, while the immortals in the High Court grew ever stronger."

I saw it now—the withered trees, the dying rivers, the fading light in the eyes of my pack. The cost of immortality had been paid in blood and suffering.

I gripped the Crescent Rod, which buzzed in my hands as if echoing my anger.

The energy surged, hot and wild. I could feel the old magic responding to my rage, hungry for justice.

"No wonder they sealed my memory…" I sneered. "I discovered their secret, so they did whatever it took to make me vanish."

My words were bitter, laced with betrayal. The others nodded, their eyes hard with shared pain.