At night, dreams came like silent mists. And they always ended the same way: Ithor ran among unfamiliar trees, leaves cutting his face, until a howl emerged in the distance. A howl he recognized as Faaron's—deep, melancholic, calling to him. He ran toward the sound, desperate, but never reached it. He always woke up before that, with his chest heaving and eyes watery.
These were not ordinary dreams but manifestations of the damaged bond. In Naruun tradition, the connection between human and Anirû existed on multiple planes of consciousness—physical, mental, and spiritual. When violently severed, the spiritual component of the bond did not simply disappear but continued to exist in a fragmented, unreachable state. These dreams represented Ithor's spirit unconsciously searching for its missing half across the barrier of death itself.
What made Ithor's case unusual was the persistence and clarity of these dream encounters. Most bond-broken Naruun reported that such dreams faded over time, becoming less frequent and vivid as the spiritual wound slowly scarred over. But for Ithor, they remained as intense months after Faaron's death as they had been in the immediate aftermath—a sign that something about his broken bond was different from the typical experience.
It was as if his wolf brother was trying to reach him from some place he didn't understand. Or was waiting... for something. For a moment. A reunion.
The Naruun had ancient legends about bonds that transcended death—rare cases where an Anirû's spirit remained tethered to the physical world due to unfinished purpose or exceptional spiritual connection. These legends spoke of "Twice-Bonded" Naruun who, after a period of separation and trials, were reunited with their Anirû in a transformed state. Such stories were considered mythical by most modern Naruun, spiritual metaphors rather than literal possibilities.
Yet there were whispered accounts among the elders of cases where something similar had occurred—where a bond thought permanently broken had somehow been restored through extraordinary circumstances. These accounts were not shared with the general population, considered too dangerous to spread false hope among the bond-broken.
Once, in a village near Varthom, he heard one of the elders say that true bonds don't die—they just retract in time, waiting for the right call to bloom again. Ithor didn't respond.
But the words accompanied him like extinguished embers under the skin.
The elder who had spoken these words was Kaelan, a blind seer who lived in selfimposed exile at the edge of the Whispering Marshes. Unknown to most, Kaelan had once been a high-ranking member of the Naruun Council of Elders before choosing to leave the forest after a philosophical disagreement about the nature of the bond. His unorthodox views—particularly his belief that the bond existed beyond physical death—had made him an outcast among his own people.
Kaelan recognized Ithor immediately despite his blindness, sensing the distinctive spiritual wound of a broken bond. He invited the young exile into his modest hut and shared a special tea brewed from herbs that temporarily eased the constant ache of separation. As they sat by the fire, Kaelan spoke of ancient Naruun wisdom that had been largely forgotten by the modern packs.
"The bond between Naruun and Anirû is not merely a connection of mind or body," he explained, his blind eyes seeming to look through Ithor rather than at him. "It is a spiritual covenant that transcends the limitations of physical existence. When your wolf died, your bond was wounded but not destroyed—merely transformed into something you cannot yet access."
Ithor had wanted to dismiss these words as the ramblings of an old exile trying to offer comfort, but something in them resonated with his own experiences—particularly the dreams that continued to haunt him night after night.
During his journey, he met Naruun who had heard his name. Some spat on the ground when they saw him. Others simply moved away. But there was also an old tamer—a blind hunter who lived on the edge of a swamp—who offered him tea and said:
"Those who betray, Ithor, rarely have the chance to redeem themselves. But when they do... the whole world changes around them. You just need to listen again. Not with your ears. But with what you lost."
The blind hunter was Kaelan, though he never identified himself by name to Ithor. His words were carefully chosen—not just to comfort, but to plant seeds of understanding that would germinate when the time was right. As one of the few living Naruun who had studied the ancient texts regarding the Dome's creation, Kaelan understood more about the cyclical nature of Inhevaen's history than most. He recognized in Ithor's broken bond something he had only read about in the oldest scrolls—the potential for a "Broken Bond" as mentioned in the prophecy of the Bearer.
What Ithor couldn't know was that Kaelan had been waiting for him, guided by visions that had come to him since the moment of Faaron's death. These visions had shown him fragments of a possible future—one where Ithor's broken bond would serve a purpose far greater than either of them could imagine. The tea he shared with the young exile contained herbs that would help preserve the fragmented connection to Faaron, preventing it from fading completely as would normally occur over time.
As Ithor traveled further from the forest, his reputation as a protector of its borders grew. The mercenaries and poachers who had once operated with impunity along the forest's edge now found their operations disrupted by a solitary figure who seemed to anticipate their movements with uncanny accuracy. Some believed he had spies throughout the border regions; others claimed he could communicate with the forest itself, receiving warnings of intrusions through some remnant of his Naruun abilities.
The truth was both simpler and more complex. Though exiled from the Naruun people, Ithor retained the training and instincts developed during his years as a bonded hunter.
More importantly, his broken bond had created an unexpected side effect—a heightened sensitivity to disturbances in natural magical patterns. Where intact Naruun focused their perception through the lens of their bond, Ithor's shattered connection had left him open to broader, if less defined, awareness of magical disruptions.
This sensitivity made him particularly effective at detecting the artificial Dead Zones that had begun appearing with increasing frequency along the forest borders. These small pockets of corrupted energy—precursors to the larger Dead Zones appearing elsewhere in Inhevaen—disrupted the natural flow of magic in ways that caused Ithor physical discomfort, a persistent ache in the spiritual wound where his bond had been torn.
He began mapping these disturbances, gradually recognizing patterns in their placement that suggested deliberate positioning rather than random occurrence. The mercenary groups he intercepted often carried small black crystals similar to the ring Nora had given him—objects that seemed to resonate with the corrupted energy of the Dead Zones. Though he didn't understand their purpose, he systematically destroyed every crystal he found, instinctively recognizing them as threats to the forest he still considered home.
His activities did not go unnoticed. The Lady of Shadows, working through her network of vessels and agents, became aware that her carefully placed corruption seeds were being systematically removed along the Naruun forest border. Reports described a lone Naruun exile who seemed immune to the mental confusion that normally affected those who approached the nascent Dead Zones. This development was unexpected but not entirely unwelcome—it confirmed that Ithor's broken bond had developed precisely the qualities she had intended when ordering Nora to sever it in that specific manner.
Rather than eliminating this obstacle immediately, the Lady chose to observe. Ithor's actions, while disruptive to her immediate plans, provided valuable data on how a broken bond interacted with her corruption magic. More importantly, his growing reputation as a protector was creating exactly the kind of redemption narrative that would make him psychologically receptive to the role she ultimately intended him to play in her grand design.
And then, in Esh-Tahar, came the rumor.