Three days ago.
The moment Silas stepped into the cave, a strange stillness greeted him.
No laughter. No small voices calling "Papa!"
Only the faint crackle of dying embers.
"Leo? Milo?" his voice echoed softly, his emerald eyes scanning the dim chamber.
Two small faces peeked from behind the hides. Leo's lips trembled; Milo clutched his brother's hand tightly. Their eyes were wide — red from crying.
Silas' stomach tightened. "Where is your mama?"
At that question, Leo's face crumpled. "Mama heard… fighting sounds… from the forest," he stammered. "He told us to stay here and went out. He didn't come back, Papa."
For a long heartbeat, the world fell silent.
Then Silas' chest rose and fell sharply — his pupils narrowed into thin, glowing slits.
The ground beneath his feet cracked as his tail slammed once, sending a tremor through the stone floor. "You mean—he went out alone?"
Both cubs flinched and nodded.
Silas turned away, his jaw clenched so tight that his scales along the neck shimmered and lifted like blades. He forced himself to kneel before the children, lowering his head to their level.
"I'll bring him back," he said in a voice barely steady. "No matter what."
Then, swiftly, he began to prepare. He dragged a few heavy stones near the cave mouth, sealing the entrance until only a narrow space remained — just wide enough for the children to crawl through if danger came. Inside, he laid extra jerky, dried taro powder, and two water skins.
"You'll stay here. No matter what sound you hear. Don't come out. Understand?"
Leo sniffled and nodded. "Papa, will Mama be okay?"
Silas looked at them — at their tear-filled eyes so like Evan's — and his heart twisted. "Yes," he whispered. "Because I will find him."
Then he was gone.
.....
The forest stretched before him, buried in white silence.
The snowfall had covered all tracks — no footprints, no scent of Evan. Not even the faintest trace of his shed scales.
It was as if the forest itself had swallowed him whole.
Silas's fists tightened until the claws dug into his palms. His breathing deepened, coming out in short bursts of white mist. "Evan…" he murmured under his breath, tasting the name like a vow.
For the next two days, he searched without rest.
He slithered across frozen ridges, climbed ice-slick stones, and tore through thorned undergrowth. He shifted partially into his beast form, letting his tail carry him faster through the snow, his senses sharp, every breath filled with the desperate need to find.
But every place he searched — nothing.
Only old scents, windblown snow, and silence.
By the second night, his mind frayed. His scales were streaked with frost, his hands raw from digging through snow and frozen dirt. The only warmth left in him was rage.
You promised to protect him.
The words echoed in his mind like venom.
He remembered Evan's laughter when he tried the first taro shoes, his shy smile when sewing coats, his soft "be safe" before Silas went out hunting.
Memories that now stabbed deeper than any blade.
"Evan…" His voice cracked — more growl than whisper. "Where are you?"
That night, he nearly lost control. The beast within clawed against his chest, screaming to be unleashed, to destroy everything until the forest gave him back his mate.
Only the thought of his cubs — waiting, frightened — kept him from tearing apart every living thing in his path.
....
By dawn of the third day, the wind carried a faint, metallic tang.
Blood.
Silas froze. His nostrils flared — there it was again, faint but distinct. Not Evan's scent, but something foul, heavy with decay and beast musk.
He followed it.
The trail led him to a hollow between two ridges, where a narrow cave mouth gaped beneath tangled roots. Inside, two figures lay slumped — hyena orcs, their fur matted with dried blood. One groaned weakly, the other dragged himself near the wall, clutching a half-healed wound.
Silas almost ignored them — they were rogues, by their stench and filth. But then—
"...that black panther bastard…" one of them spat, voice rough. "He ruined everything. We were so close to tasting the snake's female."
Silas froze mid-step.
The other laughed hoarsely. "Yeah. I still remember her skin — pale, soft, smelled so good. That snake was lucky to find one like that."
Something inside Silas snapped.
The snow around him hissed as his aura flared, a low vibration shaking the ground.
Before the hyenas could react, he was already there — one massive hand closing around the nearest throat, slamming him against the cave wall.
"What. Did. You. Say?"
The words came out low, guttural — not entirely human.
The orc gasped, claws scraping against Silas's wrist. "W-We didn't—!"
"Where is he?" Silas's eyes glowed with lethal emerald light. "Where is my mate?"
The other hyena tried to lunge at him, but Silas moved like lightning — his tail whipped out, coiling around the attacker's waist and crushing him mid-air. Bones cracked. Blood splattered the wall.
The first orc whimpered. "P-Please, we didn't—she's—she's still there! In the den beyond the northern ridge—"
"Who else?" Silas hissed, tightening his grip until the hyena's breath hitched.
"S-Six ,we were six ! The panther came that night, killed half— we ran!"
That was all he needed.
With a low snarl, Silas's claws slid deep, and the hyena went limp.
The cave fell silent again, filled only with the faint sound of dripping blood.
Silas stood still for a long moment, his chest rising and falling in violent rhythm.
He looked down at his hands, crimson staining his silver scales, and felt no remorse — only a burning, consuming fury.
Slowly, he wiped his claws on the snow, the red quickly vanishing into white.
He turned his gaze toward the north — the direction of the den.
"Evan," he whispered, voice trembling with both love and wrath. "I'm coming."
Then, without another breath, he moved — fast and silent, vanishing into the snow, leaving behind nothing but a trail of faint emerald shimmer under the pale morning light.
.....