1/9/2025, 3:07 AM
six months
The world was changed.
He wished it felt like it. The earth kept spinning, the sun continued to rise and fall, the sea chewed at the shore and his stomach grumbled at him to eat even when Sverke was distracted with other duties.
He had not returned to the den, not within visible range of it, entirely incapable of facing the place he'd once been sheltered within by his mother's protective, warm embrace. Unable to face the reality of how many days or nights he'd attempted to wriggle free or chase a butterfly or mouse away from that same shelter, driven by some instinct that even now rooted itself deep within.
Another vision, recently - not as violent as the first, but with more detail. A voice, a moniker, one he didn't dare repeat all the same. His family needed no further turmoil now. Even Jaormir, the brother to find Sverke after his first 'vision' had been...taken. No one knew, none would ever suspect. It made Sverke feel terribly alone, even if he knew it was for the best.
His paws roamed without his input or effort, carrying a lanky teenaged form across snow-covered territory missing the honeyed scent of his Goddess. A few other scents were missing too, a brother, a sister, and a guardian.
It had put Sverke in an odd mood, melancholy or perhaps furious. He wasn't quite sure, even when an awful wheezing sound made his dark navy ears prick. It reminded him of the split-faced boy. He almost walked away, in no mood to deal with his father's potential for paternal protectiveness...But Sverke had by then already circled around a tree and spotted the shuddering form draped in shades uncannily like his own.
No other child looked so similar to him, in either litter.
Sverke frowned thoughtfully, approaching the collapsed half-sister with a dangerous nonchalance to his posture. He oozed confidence, all too secure in his place as Prince even now. She could raise fang against him like the other sibling in her litter of bastards, but he had his own teeth, malice, and a fiery twin who dogged his every step.
She didn't seem like a threat, though. She just wheezed and shook and wheezed some more. Sverke scowled, then - reminded uncomfortably of his first 'vision'. Perhaps this one, too, was plagued with a monstrous fate, with visions that felt as real as memory. Maybe more real.
The sun-chariot haunted him even months later. The midnight Prince knew he was destined to burn.
