Warmth.
That was the first thing Mandle felt — a warmth that didn't belong to the panic clawing inside his chest. His eyes snapped open, and the world blurred into focus. He was cradled in the arms of a man he didn't recognize, the courtyard stones cold beneath him, the night air heavy with silence.
"Mandle… thank the heavens," the man whispered, voice trembling with relief.
But Mandle jerked away instantly, scrambling backward, his palms scraping against the rough stone.
"D‑Don't touch me!" His voice cracked, shaking. "Who are you?! What is happening?!"
The man froze. His face twisted with pain. "Mandle… it's me. Your father."
But the word meant nothing.
Then Mandle saw it.
A monstrous wolf‑like beast sprawled across the courtyard, its body so massive it seemed to spill into the forest itself. Its fur was dark and coarse, its limbs thick like ancient tree trunks. Golden eyes half‑open, it watched him with bored disinterest.
No reverence. No tension. Just a lazy, irritated stare.
Mandle's breath hitched. His body shook violently.
"N‑No… no, no…" he whispered. "What is THAT?!"
The creature blinked slowly.
And in that moment — it understood.
It understood that Mandle didn't remember. It understood the bond was gone. Its eyes narrowed slightly, as if thinking:
So… he forgot.
Mandle's panic spiked. His chest tightened, his breath came in ragged bursts, and the world tilted.
The wolf's golden eyes sharpened, no longer lazy but piercing, cutting through him like blades.
Mandle's heart lurched. He couldn't bear it.
With a strangled cry, he turned and ran.
The camera of the moment would follow him — his feet pounding against the courtyard stones, his body trembling so violently he could barely keep balance. The sound of his heartbeat thundered louder than his footsteps.
He didn't see the uneven slab ahead.
His foot caught. He stumbled. And then—
He fell hard.
His head slammed against the ground. The world shattered into blackness.
Darkness swallowed him.
Then—
A flash. A scream. The princess.
Her eyes wide with terror. A blade plunging into her chest. Her heart torn out.
Mandle reached for her—
But the vision fractured.
Pieces scattered like shards of glass. Her face blurred. Her voice cut off. The memory was incomplete.
He saw enough to know it was real. But not enough to understand why.
Mandle jolted awake, gasping, his body trembling uncontrollably.
He was lying across his father's lap, cradled carefully, his father's arms wrapped around him like a shield.
"Mandle… breathe," his father whispered, voice tight with worry. "You're safe now."
But Mandle shook his head violently, tears spilling down his cheeks.
"I saw her," he whispered hoarsely. "I saw her die… I saw her heart—"
His voice cracked.
And then he broke.
The fear, the confusion, the fragments of memory — it all crashed down at once.
"I don't understand… I don't understand anything…"
He clung to his father's clothes, sobbing like a child drowning in grief. His cries echoed through the courtyard, raw and unrestrained, the kind of sound that could break even stone.
His father held him tighter, his own eyes shadowed with sorrow, as if he too carried wounds that would never heal.
The monstrous wolf watched silently, golden eyes unblinking, its massive form now tense and alert.
It understood everything.
Especially the most important part:
Mandle's memories were returning. But only half of them. The rest were still locked in shadow, waiting.
Mandle's sobs slowed, though his body still trembled. He lifted his tear‑stained face, eyes red and desperate, voice breaking like glass.
"Dad…" he whispered, pleading. "Take me to her."
His father stiffened, his jaw tightening. "Mandle…"
"I need to see her," Mandle insisted, clutching his father's sleeve with trembling hands. "The girl… the one I saw. Please. I can't… I can't live like this, not knowing if it's real."
His father's silence was heavy, his eyes filled with conflict.
The wolf's golden gaze narrowed, its voice rumbling like distant thunder:
"He must."
on his father's face — torn between fear and duty, love, devastation and worry.
Finally, he whispered: "Then prepare yourself, Mandle. What you ask… may break you."