A world ruled by power.
A rotting order pulling every living thing into the mud.
And in the middle of it all-a pup who dared to rise.
He wasn't a hero. He never claimed to be.
He carried sorrow like a crown and refused to let others taste it.
...
This is not a tale of heroes and villains—but of a soul walking through shadow, silence, and the storm of instincts.
It's the journey of one who fights beasts outside, only to find darker ones within.
In this forest, power corrupts not just others—but the self.
And every act of courage is haunted by memory, fear, or longing.
If you've ever struggled with the line between good and necessary—this story is for you.
Step quietly... the forest is listening.
Fear had run its full course. The sky blushed and, in shame, began turning off the stars one by one. But the moon—at its fullest—remained, and that alone was enough to send the wolves and hyenas into a drunken joy.
The redness in their eyes burned like fire, and the glint of their drooling mouths had dried the lips of the forest's creatures. The twilight of life and death had arrived.
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The forest's inhabitants, huddled beneath trees and tangled bushes, breathed fear. They clung to one another in embraces that no longer held warmth. Some, though, faced the night alone—cold, and full of dread.
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But there were those who sought battle.
From every corner of the woods, they moved—finding each other, forming ranks at the base camp. It was time to fight. And the dogs had claimed that duty.
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