The wind was chilly as the rain fell lightly for hours without showing signs of stopping anytime soon; the street was empty and eerily quiet, so one could hear the echoes of their heart beating within their chest aside from the continuous pitter-patter of the rain. In the midst of all this, a woman walked slowly, holding a basket to her chest, shielding it from the rain; a black cloak protected her from the rain but also covered her face. She didn't pick up pace despite the rain becoming heavier and slowly becoming unbearable; she trudged on and came in front of a house at the corner of the street. Knocking softly at the door, she didn't wait to see the occupants of the house as she looked at the content of the basket while laying it down. A tear streaked down her left cheek; she didn't clean it. It just dropped into the basket as if that was her last goodbye, and she turned to leave. There was a slight noise coming from the house as someone went to check who was at the door.
An elderly man in his late 40s opened the door; he couldn't see clearly what was in the basket, but when he looked for who dropped it, he saw the silhouette of a person afar, and he could see an insignia at the back of the cloak: it was the full moon having a union with the sun.
'Which pack does that person belong to, because I'm pretty sure it's not a local?' he wondered as he bent down to retrieve the basket when he heard the shrill cry of a baby from within the basket.
"Hunny, is that a baby I'm hearing?" The man's wife's shocked voice echoed within the house; the sound of hurried feet could be heard going towards the door. The man slowly walked into the house, closing the door behind him while answering his wife's question.
"Yes, it is love... Yes, it is."
His wife didn't wait for any explanation and picked up the child from the basket, cuddling with earnest love, tears dropping from her eyes.
"I don't know… but it seems like our prayers have been answered in the most unlikely way." Emotions were overflowing within the man as he made that statement, and he couldn't help but let out a loud howl.
Aoooooooo
His eyes giving a golden glow, the aura around him changed; it felt like he was a different person. His wife smiled and was even amused that the baby only giggled at the howl.
"He's a brave one, isn't he?"
The man just nodded in response before adding.
"His name is 'Bara' because he came to us out of nothing. The D'Aragon family finally has an heir."
His wife just snuggled into her husband's embrace,, with the baby enjoying the warm feeling.
. . .
In the obscured nook of the street, where the human eye could not see, a silhouette appeared and disappeared like a candle flame caught by a gust of wind. He was a young adult, probably in his twenties, and he was the one with the ghostly body that allowed the torrential rain to flow through him without doing any harm. He put a hazy hand out in the direction of the door which had just shut, and with his fingers shaking he pointed at the wood and rubbed but did not feel any surface.
A smile of mixed feelings curled at the lips of his face, while he ignored the ghostly tears that caused his sight to be unclear. He recognized them. The rigid determination of the man's face, the tender softness of the woman's hug—his parents.
"Bara…" he said softly, the name seeming strange on his lips.
The picture of the family's love suddenly gave way and was replaced by the metallic taste of blood and the smell of electricity in the air.
The rain was gone. The serene road was suddenly and dramatically taken over by the noise of a battlefield. Bara cast a glance at his chest. There was no heartbeat, only the shocking entrance of a hand—big, hairy, and blood-soaked.
He inhaled sharply, the recollection of the blow hitting him harder than the blow itself. He turned his head up, his sight getting blurry, and he was looking at the rival alpha's snarl. It was not a fight of honor; it was a massacre. He was blinded by vengeance for his family that he fell right into their trap.
"You were not good enough," the Alpha had hissed while turning his hand.
Bara felt the wet sound that was heard when the skin and the flesh parting as the hand was pulled back. He dropped to his knees, the cold mud of the battle ground against his face. He was so confident in his power, so covered in his own pride, that he had brought his pack with him into a slaughter.
The battlefield stopped to exist. He was again at the street corner in the rain, observing his father as he howled at the moon.
Therefore, this is it, Bara thought, his ghostly shoulders dropping. My life flashing before my eyes. A cruel trick to let me see where it all started, just as it comes to an end.
He felt a quick, cruel pull behind his belly button. The entire world was stretched, turning into the merging lines of dark grey and black. A silent force was taking him back, melting him away from the house's light, and into a stifling void.
It was a nonexistence that was indescribably cold but at the same time, it was a very frightening heat that tortured him.
"Conceited brat…" A breath of sound came to his ear. "He will take us to perdition…" A second voice, with contempt, added. "The D'Aragon legacy is a waste on him."
The sounds of his yesterdays. His pack. The old ones. Those he had treated like dirt under his shoe. Their aversion was not only noise; it was a tangible burden, suffocating him, heavier than the death stroke that he had just received.
"I'm sorry," he shouted into the stillness, but he was voiceless. His throat was on fire with a sensation of regret, sharp and bitter. "If I had just listened." "If I hadn't been so blind…"
The blackness grew thicker, blotting his eyelids and choking him to the point of—
Drip.
He felt wetness on his skin. It was not the rain. A warm liquid.
Drip.
Bara's lungs drew air in a sudden, hurtful gasp. The darkness opened up.
He found himself looking at a ceiling covered in rough canvas. The odors of old sweat, healing plants, and wet earth were very strong and unpleasant to him. A big, wet towel that had been placed on his forehead came off and dropped on his cheek.
"Young Master?"
The voice was uncertain, quivering.
Bara opened his eyes with great effort. The light was very faint; it was coming from an oil lamp which was sputtering on a crate beside the bed. A very young woman in a maid's costume was standing beside him, her hands forming a kind of a circle around a basin of water. Her eyes opened in surprise and amazement.
"Young Master is alive!" she yelled, dropping the wet cloth into the water with a loud splash. She hurried backward, upsetting a stool. "Doctor! Someone call the Doctor! He's awake!"
She dashed out of the tent, the flap blowing crazily behind her.
Bara was the one lying there and his heart was banging hard against his ribs—ribs that were intact. Not broken. He was sitting up, holding his chest. The skin felt tender. No scar. No hole. No blood.
"What..."
He tossed off the heavy wool blanket and let his legs drop off the cot. His body was weightless, less scarred, vibrating with a youthful energy he had not experienced for many years. The dizziness in his head he disregarded and made a quick dash for the exit.
He pushed through the tent flaps and stopped immediately.
The fresh night air came to him, but it was not the quiet street of his early childhood anymore. The rows of military tents, which were lighted by the enchanted torches with the blue flame, were everywhere he looked. The soldiers in D'Aragon armor were busy polishing their weapons near the fire, and in the far corner, a jagged purple rift was ripping the sky apart.
The Dimensional Fracture.
Bara couldn't breathe for a moment. His eyes went to his hands—calloused but without the rough scar on his thumb he had received at twenty-two. The banner above the command tent was now seen by him: The Sun and Moon together but at half-mast mourning the first wave's casualties.
He realized it was the Invasion of the Dimensional Monsters and his blood just stopped. I was eighteen when this campaign started. I was a newly awakened Wolf.
"I'm... back?" he said in a low voice, as the realization struck him with a physical force. "I have gone back?"
Before he could think it through, the night was shattered by a horn blast. It was a low and guttural sound that the whole of his dental structure was vibrating.
A screech—a non-human and hungry one—came from the purple rift in the distance. The ground was moving under Bara's bare feet as the alarms went off for the whole area.
"BREACH!" yelled a guard from the lookout tower. "THEY'RE BREAKING THROUGH!"