The village did not sleep that night.
Torches burned along the main road, their flames bending under the mountain wind. Doors stayed open. Whispers spread faster than fire ever could.
A child had struck down a Frostcrag Ursid.
A child had bonded it.
A child had done both without ritual, without permission, without precedent.
By the time the sun rose, the judgment had already been decided.Narkun awoke to unfamiliar silence.
Not the quiet of snow or night—but the heavy, watchful stillness of people holding their breath.
He lay on a padded mat inside the Elder Hall, the largest stone structure in the village. Thick pillars carved with old markings rose toward the ceiling. Braziers burned low, filling the air with smoke and herbs meant to steady the mind.
His body felt… different.
Not hurt. Not weak.
Full.
Like something had taken up space inside him and settled in comfortably.
He sat up slowly.
The sound echoed.
Immediately, movement rippled through the hall.
Ray and Rex stood to one side, their faces tight. Max stood behind them, arms crossed but shoulders tense. Samantha sat closest to Narkun, one hand resting firmly on his back, grounding him.
Across from them, arranged in a half-circle on raised stone seats, sat the Seven Elders of Hendrix Hollow.
Old men. Old women. Some scarred, some stooped, all powerful.
Every one of them watched Narkun like he was a loaded weapon.
Elder Varrin spoke first.
"You are awake," he said, his voice dry as winter bark.
Narkun nodded.
"Do you know where you are?"
"Yes," Narkun replied quietly.
"Do you know why?"
Narkun hesitated.
"I… went outside the gate."
A murmur ran through the hall.
Elder Kessa leaned forward, sharp eyes narrowing. "Do not insult us by pretending ignorance, child."
Samantha's hand tightened slightly on Narkun's back, but she did not interrupt.
Elder Varrin raised a hand. Silence returned.
"Narkun Ka," he said, "you stand accused of three violations."
He lifted one finger.
"First: engaging a high-threat beast without authorization."
Second finger.
"Second: killing that beast with power exceeding your registered capacity."
Third finger.
"And third—most grave of all—forcibly forming a bond without ritual, consent, or compatibility testing."
The word forcibly echoed.
Narkun swallowed.
"I didn't mean to," he said.
"That," Elder Kessa snapped, "is irrelevant."
Ray stepped forward. "He saved us."
"That does not excuse what he is," another elder said coldly.
Samantha rose to her feet.
"He is a child," she said, her voice steady but sharp. "One you would have left to die in the snow if I had not found him."
Several elders stiffened.
"And now," Samantha continued, "you judge him for surviving?"
Elder Varrin's gaze hardened. "We judge him because survival without control is destruction waiting to happen."
Narkun clenched his fists.
Something inside him stirred.
The air trembled.
Max spoke instantly. "Narkun. Breathe."
He did.
The pressure eased.
But the elders noticed.
All of them.Elder Heth, the oldest among them, leaned forward slowly.
"There has never been a recorded case," he said, "of a human child overpowering a Frostcrag Ursid barehanded."
He paused.
"There has never been a recorded case of a forced beast absorption without death—on either side."
Narkun looked down at his hands.
"I didn't feel like I was killing it," he said quietly. "It felt like… answering."
The hall went dead silent.
Elder Kessa's voice dropped. "Answering what?"
Narkun hesitated, then spoke the truth.
"It recognized me."
A ripple of unease passed through the elders.
"That is not possible," one whispered.
Elder Heth's eyes gleamed. "Unless…"
He trailed off.
Elder Varrin slammed his staff against the stone floor.
"We will not speculate on myths," he snapped. "We will deal with reality."
He turned to Narkun.
"Do you know what a bond is, child?"
Narkun nodded. "A pact. A shared growth. A promise."
"And what did you promise the Ursid?" Elder Varrin asked.
Narkun opened his mouth—
And stopped.
Because he hadn't.
There had been no words.
No exchange.
Just instinct.
"I don't know," Narkun admitted.
That answer terrified them.Ray finally lost his patience.
"So what?" he demanded. "You're going to exile him? Kill him? He's eight!"
Elder Kessa's gaze snapped to him. "He is dangerous."
"And so were you," Ray shot back. "Once."
Silence.
Elder Kessa did not deny it.
Max stepped forward.
"If you're afraid of what he might become," Max said, "then guide him. Don't condemn him."
Elder Varrin studied Max carefully.
"Tell me," he said, "can you stop him if he loses control?"
Max did not answer immediately.
That hesitation spoke louder than any words.Elder Heth raised his staff slowly.
"There is another matter," he said. "The beast is gone. Yet the bond remains."
He looked directly at Narkun.
"Can you feel it?"
Narkun nodded.
"Show us."
Samantha turned sharply. "Absolutely not."
"It is required," Elder Varrin said.
Narkun stood before she could stop him.
"I can," he said.
He closed his eyes.
Inside, the world shifted.
Cold stone. Snow. Weight. Territory.
The Ursid was there—not alive, not dead.
Present.
Narkun opened his eyes.
Blue-white markings briefly traced across his arms and chest like frost patterns. His breath fogged heavily. The temperature in the hall dropped.
A deep, distant growl echoed—not from his throat, but from the space around him.
The elders stiffened.
Then the markings faded.
The hall warmed.
Narkun swayed slightly but remained standing.
Elder Heth exhaled slowly.
"It did not consume him," he murmured. "It integrated."
Elder Varrin's grip tightened on his staff.
"This cannot be allowed to spread," he said.
"What?" Samantha demanded.
"The idea," he replied, "that power can be taken instead of earned."
Narkun looked up sharply.
"I didn't take it," he said.
Elder Varrin met his gaze.
"That," he said coldly, "is exactly why you are dangerous."The elders withdrew to deliberate.
Minutes stretched into hours.
Narkun sat in silence, staring at the floor.
Ray paced. Rex sat rigidly still. Max stood unmoving. Samantha never left Narkun's side.
Finally, the elders returned.
Elder Varrin spoke.
"Narkun Ka," he said, "by the authority of this village—"
Samantha's breath caught.
"—you are hereby placed under Restricted Ascension."
Confusion rippled through the room.
"You will not be expelled," Elder Varrin continued. "Nor executed."
Samantha exhaled shakily.
"But," he said, "you will no longer be treated as a standard child."
Narkun felt a chill.
"You will begin early academy integration at age nine."
Murmurs erupted.
"You will train under observation."
"You will not bond again without elder approval."
"And," Elder Kessa added, eyes sharp, "you will be watched."
Elder Heth leaned forward one last time.
"And if you lose control," he said softly, "we will end you."
Silence.
Narkun nodded.
"I understand."
But inside—
Something smiled.That night, Narkun stood outside his home, staring at the mountains.
The wind brushed past him.
The card rested in his hand.
The king symbol gleamed faintly.
"You shouldn't exist," a voice whispered from deep within him.
Narkun tightened his grip.
"Then why am I here?" he whispered back.
The answer came not in words—
But in certainty.
Because this world needs something it cannot control.