A Wolf's Howl, A Fairy's Wing

Naturally, Erik eventually managed to pierce through the obsession, which then began to be slowly reined in by Elora's growing love for him. But, it never entirely disappeared, as part of the obsession simply changed faces.

Suddenly realising what she had just said, Elora coughed a little and had a rare, embarrassed expression on her face, "A- Anyway, let's get going?"

Erik snickered and caressed her head with a finger, "You know I don't mind when you get a little crazy over me, right? In fact, I might even like it."

She still looked a little uncomfortable but enjoyed his caress while answering, "Yeah, but… I don't like myself that way… back when all my feelings for you stemmed from obsession over my own desires, I didn't treat you very well."

She particularly remembered the first time she infused Erik with a bloodline.

She shook her head, "And I don't want to return to that."

Erik smiled at her, "You worry too much. It's not like your feelings for me are suddenly going to disappear, after all."

Sporting a relieved smile, Elora shook her head, "No… Of course not."

Feeling the conversation's end and seeing the anticipation in Elora's eyes, Erik finally approached the edge and, despite being unsure why, had to sigh in relief when he saw Frostvik lay spread out below them, mostly intact yet unfamiliar.

The common building, the heart of the village, and more a bar than anything else stood as a reminder of a communal life so distant from his current reality. The simple yet sturdy houses evoked memories of a simpler, unburdened existence.

A wave of nostalgia washed over him. He was thrilled with his current life and was not interested in returning to his old one, but he had a happy youth in Frostvik until it ended. Many memories he had suppressed because of Edda started floating to the surface again.

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But there were also the bad memories, particularly of that night. It was from here that he witnessed both of his parents fighting for their lives, and in particular, his kind and loving father was driven into a corner on the verge of being killed.

He turned to where he last saw his mother while she valiantly led the village in its defence. Would she have approved of his choice to run away? Or would she have preferred he stand his ground together with the village?

He had asked himself this question in the past and always concluded that she would have wanted him to run, especially considering what running away led him to. Yet, doubt always managed to creep itself back in.

Shaking himself free from these thoughts and once again confirming to himself that he did the right thing, he kept inspecting the town.

There were new additions that caught his eye – a robust fence, for one.

When he lived here, there was no need for such a thing, as it would have been hard to build anything that would actually protect against hunters and vampires, while a shapeshifter's strong hearing and sense of smell were usually enough to warn of any intruders.

Unless someone had poisoned the whole town with wolfsbane, of course.

It was a blessing that aetherium had severely reduced a shapeshifter's weakness to wolfsbane in the same way as it had done with a vampire's weakness to light.

The second new addition he could see had some more impact — it was a graveyard, a stark memorial to the lost. His gaze lingered on the stones, each a silent guardian of a story that ended too soon.

His heart began to beat faster. "Could someone have survived?" he mumbled. "Someone who went through the trouble of burying everyone?"

Yet, the voice of harsh reality came from his shoulder. "I don't want to stomp on your hope, but we can't assume that," Elora said. "Seven years is a long time, and we don't even know if it's actually your people that are buried there."

Erik put a halt to his thoughts and sighed, "I know. You're right. We should get down there and check the place out."

While she couldn't read his thoughts, Elora did notice the swirl of emotions he was going through and put her small hand on his cheek as she smiled. "There's no point to stewing in your own thoughts when you can find out the truth for yourself."

Erik sighed. She was right. And when had he become so emotional anyway? He thought he'd put all this behind him during his time on Söl, but just being here made it all come rushing back.

He smiled and turned to the three women behind him, "Come on. Let's see what's left of my old home."

Emma smiled, but Emily looked complicated. She may have come to some form of agreement with Erik, but she still wasn't sure how much she actually cared about him emotionally.

Meanwhile, Astrid naturally didn't react at all.

They descended a path to the right and soon found themselves in front of the fence. Strangely, there didn't appear to be any opening or gate to allow people through. It was all just one long, uninterrupted wall of stone, wood, chain-link fencing, and barbed wire.

Naturally, this didn't stop them, but since all his methods were a little too destructive, he asked Emily to use her corrosive darkness to create a hole instead.

Emily nodded without saying anything. She noticed Erik's emotional mood and felt that her input would only make things awkward.

Instead, she just conjured her five dark orbs, combined them all into one big, flat surface, and covered as much of the fence with it as she could.

Soon, a hole appeared that was large enough for them to fit themselves through, and not long after that, they were all standing next to the first house.

It looked intact.

In fact, just from looking at this settlement, you wouldn't be able to tell that the inhabitants were once slaughtered. But that wasn't a big surprise. Those hunters used a combination of guns and melee weaponry, which meant no large explosions.

After all, back when the hunters attacked, the destructive powers of today's Earth were still rare.

Currently, he and Elora suspected Erik's mother of having already been a rank-one back then, which meant the hunters likely had a rank-one as well, assuming they investigated their opponent before attacking.

Yet, two initiate-rank fighters were not enough to demolish a town like Frostvik, where the houses were sturdy and had plenty of space between them.

The worst he found were some bullet holes in the walls.

Erik's footsteps crunched in the snow. Each step felt like a journey back in time as they passed house by house. Sometimes, Erik would stand still and let some memories of his past drown out the present.

While reminiscing, he told the girls everything that came to him. It helped to talk about it out loud. That way, the memories became real and no longer locked inside his head.

Emily and Emma just followed silently, not wishing to disturb Erik's moment.

Sometimes, he would look at a spot and recognize it as the location of a significant memory. Like the place he first kissed Edda, one of the many would-be sweet memories, which Edda's betrayal had turned sour instead.

Or where he talked about the birds and the bees with his father after the man learned about that exact kiss.

Or the spot where he often trained with his mother. A bittersweet memory, as he got to spend time with his mother while doing something he didn't enjoy at the time.

He also saw himself being pampered by Aunt Ingrid and Uncle Viljar. They were his actual Aunt and Uncle because Ingrid had been his father's sister.

As he passed their home, he could almost smell the hearty stews and hear the warmth of their laughter. Ingrid, always bustling around with a smile, and Viljar, the gentle giant whose strength was matched only by his kindness.

It was them who adopted Edda when she and Viljar found her as a baby, left alone in the woods. Fury rose inside him when he thought about their kindness being used against them. Against their family. But he quickly shook it off. This was not the time for anger.

Viljar was a werebear, but most just called him the local teddybear, despite his absolutely fearsome strength being only second in the entire village, right after Runa, Erik's mother.

Approaching the common house, the heart of their community, Erik's eyes fell upon the makeshift graveyard. The snow lay undisturbed, each grave marked by a boulder, names etched with a care that spoke of respect and mourning. His heart tightened at the sight – a tangible reminder of what was lost.

He seemed to hesitate a moment but immediately shook his head. He had already sorted through his emotions earlier. Now, it was time to act. It was time to find out whose graves these were.