Stark

Stark
Wanderer, Healer, & Hermit🌿
Observant ⭐️ Friendly

-- Against Better Judgement -- 11/02/2024
Stark moved carefully through the dense, icy underbrush, his black coat blending seamlessly with the shadows as he scouted for herbs and remedies. He was accustomed to solitude and preferred it that way. But as he approached a small clearing, he caught a faint whimper—small, but defiant.

Curious, he stepped forward and found a young wolf pup, no bigger than a hare, huddled in the frosted grass. Her coat was ruffled, and her eyes were bright with fear she was trying hard to mask. When she noticed him, she immediately bristled, standing as tall as her small legs could make her. Her gaze locked onto him, fierce and unwavering, despite the cold that had clearly worn her down.

"What do you want?" she demanded, her tiny voice laced with a stubborn growl. She puffed up her chest, trying to look formidable, though she barely reached his ankle.

Stark tilted his head, surprised at her boldness. "You're alone," he observed, his tone neutral.

"So?" she shot back, her tail giving a little flick of defiance. "I don't need anyone. I can take care of myself."

A hint of amusement tugged at Stark's usually stoic expression. She was all bluster and fire, this one, but he could see her legs shaking slightly, a sign that the cold was already taking its toll. He thought briefly about leaving her—she was likely a stray, and he wasn't one to coddle—but something in her fierce gaze gave him pause.

"Is that so?" he replied, his tone low and unhurried. He watched her carefully, wondering how long she'd keep up the act.
"Yes!" she insisted, lifting her chin. "I don't need help from some gloomy stranger." But even as she spoke, her voice wavered, betraying a hint of exhaustion she couldn't quite hide.

Stark sighed, glancing at the sky, where dark clouds threatened snow. "Well, pup, if you can handle yourself, then I'll be on my way," he said, turning as if to leave.
He didn't get far before a small yelp sounded behind him, followed by a stubborn, "Wait!" Stark paused, glancing back to see her looking anywhere but at him, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She scraped at the ground with her paw, muttering, "I mean… it's not like I need help, but… maybe just this once…"

Her pride was still intact, he noted, but her need for warmth and shelter was stronger. Stark shook his head, letting out a soft huff before nudging her forward with his nose. "Come on then, little firebrand. Just this once."

She tried to pretend it didn't matter, walking beside him with her head held high, but every so often, she'd steal a grateful glance his way. Stark couldn't help but feel a flicker of respect for her spirit.

-- The Beginning -- 12/15/2024
The air felt heavier tonight, as if the forest itself held its breath. Stark padded silently through the dense trees, his dark coat blending into the shadows. Behind him, Kima followed, her now-mature frame moving with confident ease. She'd come far since he'd first found her—a scrappy pup with more fire than sense.

They had left the Desolate Ridge Pack's territory once again at dawn, Stark deciding it was time to replenish his stores of herbs found only in the southern woodlands. Kima, ever curious and restless, had insisted on coming. Now, under the canopy of stars, the familiar stillness of night felt…off.

Stark paused, his ears swiveling. "Do you hear that?"

Kima stopped beside him, tilting her head. "Hear what?"

He hesitated. The sound was faint, like a distant hum, but layered with something else—whispers, just beyond understanding. His fur prickled along his spine.

Kima's gaze narrowed. "You're being weird again."

Ignoring her teasing, Stark shook his head and continued forward, his paws crunching softly over fallen leaves. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, like a thousand voices speaking all at once. His vision flickered, and for the briefest moment, he saw them—small, glowing lights weaving between the trees.

He froze.

"What is it?" Kima asked, her voice low.

"There," Stark whispered, nodding toward the lights. "Do you see them?"

Kima squinted into the darkness. "I don't see anything. Are you sure you're not just tired?"

Stark didn't answer. The lights danced closer, their faint glow illuminating the gnarled roots of the forest floor. They seemed alive, shifting and flickering in patterns he couldn't quite follow.

And then the whispers came again, louder this time. Words he couldn't understand, yet they tugged at something deep within him. His chest tightened as a strange warmth spread through him—a mixture of fear and awe.

Kima's voice broke the spell. "Stark!"

He blinked, realizing he'd been standing still for too long. "I'm fine," he said quickly, though his heart was racing.

Kima frowned and shook out her fur. "You're not fine. What's going on with you?"

Stark turned to her, his voice quieter now. "I don't know. It's like…they're calling me. The lights. The whispers. They're trying to tell me something."

Kima glanced around uneasily, her confidence faltering for the first time. "Maybe we should keep heading south. It's the mountain pass isn't it."

"No," Stark said, more firmly than he intended. "I will investigate further, get to the bottom of this."

The lights flickered again, retreating deeper into the forest, as if beckoning him to follow. Stark took a step forward, his body moving on instinct.

"Stark," Kima said, her voice sharp now. "Don't—"

But he was already moving, drawn by the haunting melody of the whispers and the glow of the lights.


-- The Cave -- 12/16/2024
The wind howled through the mountain pass, carrying with it a biting chill. Stark's paws slipped slightly on the uneven terrain, the rocky path narrowing as he ascended. Kima followed close behind, her breaths visible in the frigid air.

"Do you even know where you're going?" Kima asked, her tone clipped with frustration.

"I don't," Stark admitted, his gaze locked ahead. "But…this is where the lights are leading me."

Kima let out a low growl of discontent but said nothing more. Her unease was evident in the way her tail flicked nervously, her amber eyes scanning every shadow. Stark couldn't blame her—he wasn't sure if he was chasing some divine purpose or falling into madness.

The path opened abruptly into a wide plateau, and there it stood: the cave. Its mouth yawned before them, dark and foreboding, framed by jagged rocks. Stark halted, his eyes narrowing as the faint glow of the lights flickered within, just visible against the blackness.

"You want to go in there?" Kima said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"They're inside," Stark replied simply.

Kima's ears flattened. "I don't like this."

"Then stay here." Stark padded forward, his resolve unshaken despite the weight in his chest.

"Like I'm going to let you wander into some creepy cave alone," Kima muttered, reluctantly following him inside.

The air shifted the moment Stark crossed the threshold. The biting cold was replaced by a damp, heavy warmth that clung to his fur. The walls of the cave were smooth, carved by centuries of water and wind, and as he ventured deeper, a faint bioluminescent glow began to illuminate their surroundings.

The light was subtle at first—a gentle shimmer along the cracks in the stone—but it grew stronger the further they went. Soon, the walls were alive with color, a soft blue-green radiance pulsing like the heartbeat of the earth itself.

Stark stopped as the path opened into a cavern. At its center lay a pool of water, glowing faintly with the same ethereal hue. The surface rippled gently, though no breeze disturbed it. The wisps were here, dancing above the pool like tiny embers caught in a breeze. Shadows flickered along the walls, their movements erratic and unsettling.

"This place…" Kima whispered, her usual bravado gone.

"It's beautiful," Stark murmured, though the beauty was tinged with unease.

The whispers returned, clearer now. They echoed off the cavern walls, a chorus of voices speaking in a language Stark didn't know but felt in his bones. The words seemed to wrap around him, tugging at his mind and heart, urging him forward.

Stark approached the pool cautiously, the glowing water casting a soft light over his dark fur. The closer he got, the more distinct the voices became. They were neither male nor female, young nor old. They simply were.

"Do you hear them?" Stark asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kima shook her head. "I just hear…noise. Like the wind, but wrong."

"They're speaking to me," Stark said, his voice distant. He reached the edge of the pool and stared into its depths. Shadows danced beneath the surface, shapes he couldn't quite make out.

"What are they saying?" Kima asked, her voice laced with worry.

"I don't know," Stark admitted. "But I feel like…I should."

The whispers grew louder, the flickering lights spinning faster above the pool. Stark closed his eyes, the sound overwhelming yet oddly soothing. His chest rose and fell in time with the rhythm of the whispers, his pulse matching the glow of the water.

"Stark," Kima said, stepping closer, her voice sharp. "We should leave. Now."

But Stark didn't move. He felt rooted to the spot, as though the cave itself held him in place. The lights, the whispers, the glowing water—they were calling to him, begging him to understand.

And for the first time in his life, Stark felt as though he was standing on the edge of something far greater than himself.


-- Who are You? -- 12/16/2024
The cave was as it always was—silent, sacred, and alive. The bioluminescent glow of the walls pulsed faintly, as though breathing in the darkness. Stark stepped carefully, his offerings balanced delicately in his jaws: a smooth river stone, a sprig of heather, and a small bundle of feathers he'd gathered on his travels. Each time he returned, he brought something new, drawn by an invisible force he didn't quite understand.

Kima hadn't come with him this time. She'd stayed behind, muttering something about Stark chasing ghosts. Maybe he was, Stark thought, as he approached the glowing pool once more.

The whispers started before he even reached the edge—louder now, clearer, though still slipping beyond the grasp of meaning. Stark set the offerings down on the cool stone and gazed into the water. It rippled faintly, though he hadn't touched it. The hairs along his spine stood on end.

And then he heard it.

A single voice.

Distinct. Deep. Resonant.

His ears twitched, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as though it came from within him rather than around him.

"…Return."

Stark's pulse quickened. He couldn't move, rooted to the spot, his wide amber eyes locked on the center of the pool.

The water stirred violently, ripples deepening into waves that churned with an unnatural energy. From the glow came a light brighter than he'd ever seen, pulsing with a sharp blue hue that sent shadows dancing across the cavern walls. Stark's breath caught as a shape emerged—first mist, then something solid.

A wolf.

He rose as though pulled from the very fabric of the glowing water, his form ethereal yet unmistakably real. His fur shimmered with hues of deep brown and midnight shadow, but his eyes—those golden eyes glowed brighter than any of the bioluminescent lights, like twin stars burning in the dark. Around his neck hung a necklace of blue stones that pulsed faintly, matching the soft glow of the cave.

Stark's mouth opened, but no sound came. He staggered back a step, stunned as the figure fully emerged, standing now at the edge of the pool where no solid ground existed.

The wolf stared at him. Unmoving. Unblinking.

Stark finally found his voice, though it came out hoarse and trembling. "Who… who are you?"

The wolf tilted his head slightly, his gaze unwavering. And when he spoke, the voice reverberated through the cavern—calm yet impossibly vast, like the echo of a thousand forgotten voices.

"Ithelan."

The name rang through Stark's mind, as though it were more than just a name—it was a memory, a truth, a force.

The glow intensified, spreading like waves across the cavern. The whispers grew louder, an overwhelming chorus that surrounded Stark, flooding his senses. He felt the spirit realm pressing against him, the weight of its presence filling every corner of the cave. It was too much—too loud, too bright, too real.

Stark swayed, his vision blurring at the edges as the world tilted. "I…"

His legs buckled. Darkness swept over him, the last thing he saw being the golden eyes of the wolf—of Ithelan—watching him.

And then, nothing.



Notes for me:
- Stark's story arc will have ties to the faelcu and the lunar realm. He travels between packs who are bout to have pups to help protect and make sure none are lost. He will start to have visions (the lunar pups) and voices that he will have to figure out what more is going on with Coigreach, etc.)
- Adding onto this, he will see Morbid's Ithelan resurrect and.

Adopted from https://www.wolvden.com/chatter/topic/1071390?page=1 run by https://www.wolvden.com/profile/127528
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