The Return Of The Fenrir Wolf-Lord

When Cole Brown walked out of the state prison gates, it was drizzling.

The iron door closed behind him with a heavy sound, like something being shut forever.

He stood at the entrance, still wearing the same gray T-shirt from three years ago when he came in, carrying a canvas bag with just a few changes of clothes and a release certificate inside.

Cole looked up at the sky, raindrops hitting his face, cold and chilly.

He'd spent three years in prison, from nineteen to twenty-two, taking the fall for his older brother Tyler's drug dealing and murder charges.

During those three years, not a single person from the Brown family came to visit him, not even a letter.

He was used to it by now.

Cole slung the canvas bag over his shoulder and was about to leave when he caught sight of someone leaning against the prison wall.

The old man wore an old leather jacket, his hair gray, unshaven, holding a silver short blade with patterns carved on the sheath that he couldn't understand.

It was Old Eric, who'd been released early—a sixty-eight-year-old man who'd been Cole's cellmate, in prison for who knows how many years.

The two had shared a cell, and the old man had taught him a lot—how to fight, how to treat injuries, how to find the weakest point to break through when surrounded. Cole had always thought the old man was just an experienced old convict with some skills, nothing more.

"Come here." Old Eric waved at him, his tone different from his usual lazy drawl.

Cole walked over, and before he could speak, Old Eric shoved the silver blade into his hands. "Take this, it belongs to your family."

Cole was confused. "What?"

"Now that you're out, it's time to tell you the truth! Cole, I know what I'm about to say will be hard to believe, but I hope you can accept it!" Old Eric stared into his eyes, his tone suddenly heavy. "Actually, you're not part of the Brown family. You're a descendant of the Fenrir wolf clan! The bloodline of the ancient giant wolf Fenrir—have you heard of it?"

Cole's expression suddenly turned serious.

Of course he'd heard of the giant wolf from Norse mythology, the monster that bit Odin to death during Ragnarok. But that was just mythology.

Old Eric seemed to see through his thoughts and let out a cold laugh. "It's not just mythology! Remember when you punched through the prison's concrete wall?"

Cole took a deep breath. He remembered a few things.

Three years ago, when he first entered prison, a gang leader and his crew cornered him. Four guys held him down and beat him.

He felt something burning in his chest, and then he swung his fist. The gang leader's ribs broke—three of them. At that moment, Cole's mind went blank, and in his confusion, he actually punched a huge hole in the prison's concrete wall.

Afterward, the guards checked the surveillance and said it was an "adrenaline rush," but Cole knew it wasn't that simple.

That feeling was like something waking up inside him, hot and painful, making him want to tear apart everything in front of him.

Later, Old Eric found him and taught him a breathing technique, saying it would help him "calm down."

After that, the feeling never came back. Cole had always thought it was just Eric's experience talking, never thought deeper about it.

"When you were born, The Volchatnik dug out your wolf clan crystal core." Old Eric continued, his voice very low, as if afraid someone might hear. "The crystal core is the power source of the wolf clan. Without it, your bloodline will slowly consume you. You're still alive because the Fenrir bloodline is strong enough, but you've got a year at most."

One year.

Cole's fingers tightened around the sheath.

"The Volchatnik is an organization that hunts bloodline inheritors." Old Eric pulled out a small notebook from his pocket and stuffed it into Cole's canvas bag. "They took your crystal core to study how to use bloodline power to make weapons and extend life. Your birth parents were killed by The Volchatnik years ago trying to protect you and the crystal core. The Browns who adopted you are The Volchatnik's informants. Their job was to watch you and report on your condition."

The rain was getting heavier.

Cole stood in the rain, his expression unchanged, but his knuckles had turned white gripping the blade.

"How do you know all this?"

Old Eric pulled open his leather jacket collar, revealing a nasty scar at his collarbone, like something had torn through it. "I used to be captain of the Nordic wolf clan's guard. Twenty years ago, The Volchatnik attacked our base in Norway and killed twelve of my men. I chased them for three years, finally found leads in America, but they set a trap and threw me in prison. I spent fifteen years inside, investigating what they were really after."

He paused. "Later I found out. They want to find the Alpha Fenrir lord and the sacred phoenix bloodline inheritors and take both crystal cores. The two cores together can create what they want. You're that Alpha."

Cole was silent for a few seconds. "Where's the crystal core now?"

"Your adoptive parents have the leads." Old Eric said. "You have to go back and find them. They know you're out, and so does The Volchatnik. It won't be long before someone comes looking for you."

Old Eric pulled out another small bottle from his pocket, containing several dark brown pills. "This medicine can temporarily suppress the pain from your bloodline going out of control, but it won't cure the root cause. To completely solve the curse, there are only two ways—either get back your wolf heart crystal core, or find the phoenix bloodline inheritor. Phoenix bloodline can neutralize your bloodline curse, at least keep you alive."

Cole took the medicine bottle and put it in his pocket.

"Where do I find the phoenix bloodline?"

Old Eric shook his head. "I've been searching for fifteen years. I only know the phoenix bloodline inheritor is in America, but who exactly and where, I haven't found out yet. But The Volchatnik is also looking. They have more people and a better intelligence network than you. Follow The Volchatnik's movements, and you might find them before I do."

Cole pulled the silver blade partway out of its sheath. The blade gleamed coldly, with a line of ancient text he couldn't read carved on it, and the edge had a very faint dark red tinge, like it had been soaked in blood.

"This blade can help you control bloodline outbursts." Old Eric said. "The Fenrir wolf clan's bloodline power is too strong. Without the crystal core to suppress it, you'll easily lose control when your emotions run high. The blade has runes passed down through your clan. Hold it tight, and it'll help you stay rational. Don't lose it."

Cole slid the blade back into its sheath and hung it at his waist, covering it with the bottom of his T-shirt.

"What about you?" he asked.

"I still need to stay in town for a while, check on some things." Old Eric patted his shoulder hard. "Remember, the Browns aren't your family. They're The Volchatnik's informants. When you go back, whatever they say, don't believe all of it. And your brother Tyler—he's no good."

Cole nodded and didn't ask more questions. He turned and walked toward the highway.

Old Eric shouted from behind, "Kid, don't die too soon."

Cole didn't look back, just raised his hand and waved.

He walked for about twenty minutes and hitched a ride to the city.

The driver was a middle-aged fat guy who rambled on about how his son got into college this year and his wife ran off with another man because he didn't make enough money. Cole leaned back in the passenger seat, eyes closed, fingers pressed on the blade at his waist, replaying Old Eric's words in his mind.

Three years ago when he took the fall for Tyler, what did the Browns say?

"Cole, Tyler is the family's hope. He can't go to prison."

Cole was nineteen then, had spent two years in the Navy SEALs reserves, just three months away from becoming full-time.

Tyler was four years older, high school dropout, ran with street gangs, dealt drugs. In a deal gone wrong, he shot someone dead, then shoved the gun into Cole's hands and called the cops.

When the police arrived, Tyler was on his knees crying, saying Cole killed someone by accident and he couldn't stop him.