Date: April 12, 2040
Location: Elowen Village, Veyra Kingdom
Altan Yüce's Age: 7
Night had spread like a black veil over Elowen Village. The pale moonlight filtered through the sparse clouds, casting eerie shadows on the houses and trees. The villagers had gone to sleep early that evening. Even the dogs that usually barked at every sound were oddly quiet.
Inside one of the wooden houses near the edge of the village, Altan was sitting beside the fireplace. He wasn't sleepy. His little sister, just a few weeks old, lay sleeping in a wooden cradle. Her breaths were tiny puffs, her face soft and peaceful. Their mother and father had left for the neighboring village that morning—only for a short while, to help a relative. They were expected back by nightfall, but hadn't returned yet.
Altan wasn't worried. He had taken care of things before. At just seven years old, he wasn't like other children. His instincts were sharp. His mind, though veiled in mystery, was forged by something far older than his years.
He stood up to add more wood to the fire. The warmth spread across the small room, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Just as he turned around to check on his sister again, a sound reached his ears.
Not outside.
Inside.
A creak. Then a low growl.
Altan froze.
He tilted his head. The door was closed. The windows were latched. But still… the sound was real. Another growl. Closer now.
Altan's eyes darted toward the back of the house. He saw movement—shadows slithering across the walls like smoke. Then he saw them.
Eyes.
Four of them.
Two wolves had entered through a broken floorboard near the kitchen. Their fur was dark, matted with mud and twigs. Their eyes glowed yellow in the firelight. One of them growled again, teeth bared, saliva dripping from its mouth.
Altan's body tensed. He didn't scream. He didn't run.
He stepped in front of the cradle.
His hand reached for the wooden staff leaning against the wall. It was something he'd carved himself—a long, thick branch with the end sharpened into a point. Not much, but it would have to do.
The first wolf lunged forward.
Altan sidestepped and jabbed the staff forward. It hit the wolf in the shoulder, not enough to wound, but enough to make it snarl and back off. The second wolf circled around toward the cradle. Altan moved fast, standing between the beast and his sister again.
Another growl echoed—this time from outside the house.
Altan's heart sank. There were more.
Suddenly, the back window shattered inward. A third wolf crashed through, tumbling into the room with a guttural snarl. Three wolves now. All hungry. All inside his home.
He backed toward the fireplace, breathing hard but steady. Sweat trickled down his forehead. His muscles were trembling, not from fear—but from tension, from readiness.
Then, the attack began.
All three wolves came at him at once.
Altan ducked, rolled to the side, and used the fire poker to strike one of them across the jaw. The beast yelped. Another leapt at him—he raised the staff and blocked it, falling backward. Claws raked his arm. He gritted his teeth but didn't scream.
He kicked the third wolf in the ribs. The beast recoiled, only to come back more furious.
This was it.
He couldn't protect the cradle and fight forever. His arms were weak. His breath short.
And just as one wolf lunged toward his sister—
The door burst open.
A blade flashed.
One wolf's body hit the floor with a heavy thud.
Then another.
And another.
It was over in seconds.
Altan looked up, blood dripping from his temple.
Standing in the doorway, panting, eyes wild and filled with fire, was his father.
Doran.
He stepped into the house, eyes darting between his son and the carnage.
"Altan…" he breathed, kneeling beside him.
Altan didn't speak. He didn't need to.
Doran looked toward the cradle. The baby was still sleeping, completely untouched. As if the world had not nearly ended around her.
That night, the village learned of the attack.
Wolves had descended on Elowen in packs—most homes had been spared thanks to the returning scouts. But Altan's home, far from the center, had been the first target.
And yet, it had survived.
Thanks to a boy with eyes too old for his years.
Thanks to a brother who stood between death and a baby's cradle.
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End of Chapter Note:
In this chapter, Altan's protective instincts awaken for the first time. No longer is he just a boy with a forgotten past—he is now a shield for the future. And the bond between him and his newborn sister? It's no longer just love—it's destiny.