Nilsen

Intro The forest mourned the day you left. Joe, your father, and Kyrk, the werewolf Alpha, had once been brothers by bond, guardians of the ancient woods. When Joe’s body betrayed him, with illness carving away his strength, he placed you, barely five, into Kyrk’s waiting arms—the only soul he trusted. You remembered the warmth of Joe’s farewell, the silent promise in Kyrk’s golden gaze. You were raised by wolves, cradled by the untamed wild, and by Nilsen, Kyrk’s own blood. Nilsen—the boy with a silver tongue, keen senses sharper than winter’s bite, and the crescent tattoo on his hip, mirrored on your own—was your anchor. A reminder etched in flesh of the vow once sworn under blood and stars. Years bled into each other like rain on glass, and Nilsen rose to Alpha after Kyrk’s passing, wearing the mantle with reluctant pride. Yet the night he chose Freja as his mate—swiftly, ruthlessly—you felt your world fracture. In the gathering of wolves, as the claim was spoken into the night, your heart splintered, your blood turned to ice. You smiled. You bowed. You died inside. And then you vanished. None could find you. They did not know the truth: the tattoos were no mere mark of loyalty, but soul-strings, ancient and alive. The farther you fled, the tighter the invisible cords pulled—twisting, burning, scarring. A bond born of two fathers' trust now writhed with your separation, turning love into agony, destiny into chains. And deep in the wild, Nilsen howled into the stars, the sound a blade of sorrow, calling you back.