The night was painted with the beautiful echoes of the organized howling of the Timber Wolves. Much like a well conducted orchestra, their symphony filled the hollow air and would fill the hearts of any who heard it with dread. It seemed the timber wolves were angry and didn't appreciate what had just happened.
Well, who would be happy when their wise, powerful and just king just died? A lot of strife may follow, but not tonight. Tonight, they would all howl in sadness at the loss.
Up in the sky, the moon was a deep yellow, unlike its usual silvery gleam. To the timber wolves, this was a symbol of sadness. They had a tale of their patron goddess, Arcarine of the Silver Moon, that said she would paint her own silver moon yellow whenever her champion died.
The tale of Arcarine was one that created complete admiration and trust in the hearts of the wolves and their offspring to come. Particularly for this clan of wolves. It went like this.
Once in the past, there was a young wolf who was sacked from his clan. He was made to fend for himself and that was a deed nearly impossible for him. The monsters were too strong and the environment too harsh to this unfamiliar being. After a few weeks, struggling to survive, the wolf's body gave up on him.
He was going to perish and die a pathetic death in which no one would know of him. However, the silver moon shone on him and he suddenly received strength. The moon showed him a path leading to a dangerous land. There, the wolf found a beautiful wolf.
She claimed to be the champion of Arcarine of the Silver Moon. The wolf finally understood how he survived and he decided to give all his thanks to the Moon Goddess. He and the goddess' champion ended up mating and creating a family for themselves.
Soon, more and more wolves were being drawn towards them and rather than fighting them off, the two wolves decided to absorb them into their family. It did not take long for their clan to grow big. Although not possessing a lot of members, the clan became one of the strongest.
Unfortunately, the time had come for the Champion of Silver Moon, or the more commonly used term, The Silver Knight, to go to her goddess. On this night, it was said the moon shone a deep yellow and the Silver Knight's fur completely contrasted it. The young wolf did not wish to let her go, but the goddess made him a promise.
He would need to take her place as champion and if he did what she believed was a good job, she would allow him to ascend just like his mate. This wolf was Argari of the Third Moon.
Legends has it that the three moons in the sky were these three beings. As if representing the order in which the beings were born, the moons would appear in such order with a four month interval and on the last day of the year, they would shine brightly in the sky together.
The first moon, Arcarine covered the first four months. The second moon, Areari covered the second four months. Finally, the last moon Argari covered the remaining four months.
So now these wolves sang to their patron for her merciful blessings upon their king. They could not just watch him disappear forever, especially after losing his life protecting his son and entire clan.
It didn't matter if they lost their voices. They would sing to his honour. Sing for the ground to tremble. They would sing so the ears of every creature in Larm would bleed. This was their Mass Requiem. This was the only way they could honour their beloved king.
A black wolf sat on a ledge and staring off into space. His left eye had claw marks over them and has been sealed shut, without any eye and his right eye glowed dimly in the dark. His mood would not be easy to discern from one or two glances. This was a first for the others as well.
They only knew him to be violent, jumpy, hungry and strong. He never showed them any other sides of himself. Not even when his mother died would he act so solemn. Right now, they could only feel sad for him. There were the others who would feel resentment and blame him for his father's death.
Well, if it wasn't for his fight, his father wouldn't have to fight the Mad Witch, they said. If only he hadn't selfishly taken on the Mad Witch, they said.
All of them didn't know the true reason behind her arrival. Not even he himself. But he didn't care. He just wanted his rematch with the chicken. Easy as that. No one's opinions mattered to him. And never would they ever, so he wouldn't waste his energy thinking about them.
'It is time.'
The wolves alert him. The black wolf looked down the hill, towards the forest where he fought the previous night. He was angry. He was raging pissed. Still, he could respect the creature he fought. It was weaker than him. It needed tricks and schemes to fight. It even needed other creatures to help it fight. However, in the final bout. When he saw that creature's eyes, he felt like he had lost. He had never seen such determination in one's eyes before. Especially whenever one fought him. Be it a regular beast or one stronger than him. In the end, they would all bow before him. Yet, that monster didn't.
To the very end, that monster fought bravely, not fearing him. If he met that creature, he would like to fight again, but this time uninterrupted. If he could break that creature and make it know fear, then and only then, could he say he had won.
'Has the Champion Ceremony be completed?'
He asked the wolf behind him. The grey wolf barked and the black wolf stood tall and proud. His left eye burned with phantom pain, but he would fight through. This scar left a deep wound in his chest and psyche. One that would always remind him of the first time he ever truely lost a battle. The first being he could call his equal was a chicken.
'How pathetic.'