Once, in a time when the world had yet to unleash its wrath, waters on this earth flowed in gentle streams into rivers and lakes, eventually merging into the vast ocean. The youthful sea covered the earth like the delicate skin of a lemon. The sun and moon rose and set each day, and the night sky was adorned with stars that signaled the seasons of fruit picking, migrations, rains, and showers of falling stars.

In those days, forests were lush, lands brimming with flowers, fruits, and creatures. Plains dotted with villages painted tiny dots in the twilight, alongside solitary castles of lords standing desolate amidst winter's snow-covered fields.

In those days, there was a half-demon, half-human creature, uncertain whether to be human or demon. She decided to make a gamble: one half would consume the other, to see which half would make it whole. She closed her eyes, chose randomly, opened her mouth, and swallowed. When she opened her eyes, blood streamed down! She had devoured her human part, becoming the most terrifying, dreadful demon in the world.

In those days, under a rain of arrows from hunters, there was also a gray wolf, on the verge of death, suddenly longing to become human.

For this mad desire, the whispers of the underground streams revealed it needed to consume at least half of the heart of the demon – who had eaten its own human part in tears of blood.

When Hiver – the wolf – found Soleii – the demon, Soleii was barely alive. Soleii was torn apart, foul-smelling, lying under a python's canopy near a swamp. Her hair was matted with mud, her hands, feet, and belly marked with countless red claw wounds, her eyes both bloodshot and tear-filled. Soleii's heart had just been gouged out, leaving only a small piece, barely beating in the empty chest cavity.

That was a tale of a hunt three months ago. For it was said that whoever consumed the heart of the most terrifying demon in the world would become the most powerful lord in the world.

-

The tiny last piece of Soleii's heart was enough to keep her barely alive but not enough for Hiver to become human. They did not know how long the piece of heart, loosely held in the demon's chest by the last intact blood vessels, would keep beating. Soleii needed at least half a heart to continue existing, even in a cursed form. Hiver needed at least half a heart to at least appear human.

"Why do you want to become human?" Soleii asked.

The gray wolf bared its fangs, growling, momentarily seeing the rain of arrows falling once more, piercing through the forest, hearing the cheers like thunder as they skinned it, broke its fangs, split its bones, and hung its head on the wall of the most skillful hunter.

"You want to become like them?" Soleii saw images flash in the wolf's eyes. The demon's pupils dilated, not knowing if it was out of disdain or pity, "Do you think becoming them will let you walk proudly in the sunlight?"

And so they made a deal, like so many other deals in the world. Giving something to receive something in return, both sides would have the same goal until their benefits were achieved.

Hiver carried Soleii to retrieve the pieces of heart that the hunters had taken. Soleii would share back to it half of each piece. The hunters sent to steal Soleii's heart had almost all been torn apart by the demon in a fit of insane rage. An elite, most battle-hardened group had triumphed, after extracting most of Soleii's heart, torturing her in the manner befitting human ethics toward inferior creatures, placing the hot, pulsating heart of the demon into a wooden chest. They were escorting this chest back to the Valley of Temples.

So Hiver began to lick Soleii's wounds, tilting so she could drag herself onto its back, regardless of the foul black blood matting its wolf fur. From then on, a wolf carried a demon, beginning their journey to reclaim the nearly rotting pieces of heart. They moved towards the Valley of Temples, the city of palaces and gray-white temples covered in the dust of time's sands, where beneath lay vast wealth from slave trade and charms, above all ruled by Lord Raven.

But they had very little time left.

Very little.

The tale tells that Lord Raven was born under a cursed moon, with jaundiced skin, often anemic, his legs twisted like ancient roots, and as he grew, his belly swelled like a drum. His face was a sharp mask, with a hooked nose and eyes as mysterious as the night. His heart, grotesquely protruding from his chest, beat a rhythm that echoed in his skull, each throb a drumstick striking his brain. He was the spawn of a tribe where men could only procreate with women of the same bloodline, preserving the power of a single lineage ruling eternally over the Valley of Temples.

Raven always draped himself in long cloaks to conceal his deformity. Despite his immense wealth, despite nurturing the fiercest hunters and the most learned sorcerers, Raven carried an unspeakable shame: the shame of a creature who was not fully human.

Raven knew, like a dagger poised just a heartbeat away from severing his life's thread, that his days were numbered. Each morning he feared might be his last, each night he dreaded death's embrace.

Until one fateful day, the winds whispered secrets atop the temple towers and reached Raven's ears: whoever consumed the heart of the most terrifying demon in the world would become a perfect human, almost godlike.

Every creature on this earth has its moments of fragility. Times when change outstrips their capacity to adapt, leaving them adrift, as if they had stumbled into a mire. They stand paralyzed, each movement a trembling fear of sinking deeper. Perhaps they sense the mire's existence only when they falter in the race against time, yet they remain unsure when time will pause to let them rise again.

Every animal, human, or demon must wade through these mires, when inner strength seems to evaporate, wise choices turn out misguided, and wounds easily appear and leave deep scars.

The hunters, hundreds of them, fed by Raven with meat and milk, trained through thousands of days of beatings and sleepless nights, had become the most formidable force on earth. Guided by sorcerers chanting incantations, they trampled young trees and crushed helpless creatures, seeking Soleii at her weakest moment, as revealed by their dark magic. Soleii was then trapped in her own mire, haunted by memories of devouring her half-human self, feeling the eternal loss of something bright, sweet, and warm from deep within. The past flooded back like a raging torrent. Soleii hugged her knees beneath the python's canopy, not knowing who she was, not remembering what she had done, not understanding why she was in this state. She was naked, crying loudly.

When the nets surrounded and the spears flew, Soleii was a moment too slow. The most terrifying demon in the world bared her fangs, clawed, and tore apart hundreds of hunters. Her screams pierced the night. But she was a moment too late, allowing the fiercest hunters to prevail, plunging a dagger washed with enchanted water into her chest, severing most of her blood vessels and pulling out the majority of her heart.

The humans did not forget to stab her body wherever they pleased, as a punishment and a demonstration of the supposed superiority granted by their favored creation.

"That's the story, wolf. Do you find it dramatic?" Soleii recounted, then hummed strangely sad songs as the wolf carried her across the cold river full of fallen leaves, shimmering with the reflection of the Milky Way stretched across the sky. Soleii's song dripped into the cold water, fading away until she fell asleep.

Hiver swam silently; they were far from reaching the Valley of Temples. It needed to move faster. The wolf's nose smelled the faint scent of the lost part of the demon's heart, its vitality waning. Soleii heard the remaining part of her heart, connected to the part taken, beating slower and slower. Thump, thump, thump... thump.

The remaining hunters carried the wooden chest containing Soleii's heart on their relentless journey back to the Valley of Temples. For three long months, they traveled. On the first day of the fourth month, they reached the outskirts. The path was treacherous, but the true curse lay in their steps; each felt shackled, the further they went, the heavier their steps became. The chest, passed from one to another, radiated scorching heat. The steadfast hunters pressed on, despite blistered backs and legs burdened by invisible chains.

None of the surviving sorcerers and hunters understood why Soleii's heart had awakened, powerful and dangerous, exuding an aura as if cursing those who dared to reverse the scales of a dragon. After three more days, the hunters could no longer endure the torment. They began buying slaves from the villages they passed through to carry the chest. Yet, any slave who took the chest onto his back would immediately collapse, die, and rot away.

The last remaining sorcerers gathered all their magic, wrapping Soleii's still-beating, hot heart in a cloth bag. This would calm the heart but also poison it, strangling its power and hastening its final beat.

The group trudged onwards, their steps heavy. Time ticking away.

Soleii's heart lay still, curled in darkness, occasionally emitting long, choked breaths, as if it wanted to cry but couldn't.

-

Hiver carried Soleii through day and night, across forests known only to cunning wolves, leaving their marks. They dashed over cliffs' edges, climbed desolate mountains, and crossed regions of heavy rain and sunny meadows. Hiver had a single goal: catch up with the hunters, retrieve Soleii's heart, and claim half of it to transform into a human.

One misty morning, Soleii screamed in agony. She knew someone had used dark magic to control her heart, forcing its rage into silence, binding its immense power into whispers. This humiliation was intolerable, this pain an everlasting hatred. Soleii dug her claws into Hiver's neck, then, after a scream that tore through the air, collapsed.

Hiver realized they had very little time left before Soleii's heart, torn from her body and bound by enchantments, decayed beyond saving.

The wolf sprinted faster, each day more urgent. It sensed death approaching slowly but gaining speed. At first, Soleii muttered songs, Hiver catching broken verses, singing of days when the sky touched the earth, and the sound of dying forests. Singing of a forest somewhere in the vast desert, a patch of land in sight but no place to step.

The songs were sad, sung with the lisp of a child. Hiver felt its spine tremble every time Soleii began to sing, or sighed, or when she no longer sang but counted, one... two... one... two, in rhythm with the tiny heart left in her chest. Soleii's claws dangled down the wolf's back, her face buried in Hiver's rough gray fur. One... two... one... two, she kept counting, each beat longer than the last. The wolf's vision blurred momentarily. It laid Soleii down, licking her black wounds to soothe the pain. It nuzzled her neck, growling softly as if to comfort, as if in sorrow. As if to say, I'm here, don't be afraid, don't be afraid.

"No, I want revenge. You want to be human, don't you, wolf?" Soleii's eyes suddenly reddened with blood. "Go on, keep moving! Faster! I want to rip the heart out of the one who ate mine. Raven? That deformed wretch with parents who were siblings, and grandparents who were siblings too, right? I want to kill him, rip his heart out, drink his blood!" Soleii screamed, and Hiver hoisted her onto its back, racing forward.

It was an extraordinary journey, even one that could be called epic. The hunters had a three-month head start when Hiver began carrying Soleii. A wolf with a demon on its back, they seemed to leap through the buffer zones between day and night, through strange spatial structures, as if they had circled the sun and earth. Yet, Hiver still felt slow. Time's fabric stretched, sluggish, stagnant. They traveled as if they hadn't moved at all, because what they sought was still out of sight, and Soleii's tiny heart grew weaker. Hiver's limbs felt more exhausted, and Soleii increasingly clung to its fur, seeking comfort, asking why, why, why?

And as they approached the Valley of Temples, where wind, sunlight, and ancient dust mixed before the gray wolf's nose, Hiver thought, if it had to choose for Soleii to be whole again, and for itself to wear human skin, what would it choose?

-

Through the mist, the gray wolf emerged, following the scent trail left by the hunters through deserted streets. It approached the temples, where whispering winds carried ancient curses over the bare stones of the shrines. The townsfolk, seeing the shadow of the gray wolf carrying the demon reputed to be the most terrifying in the world, hid away in corners, fearful and curious, like ghosts haunting the earth. Wherever Hiver walked, they kept their distance, seeing the tattered demon on the wolf's back, with an empty chest and limp limbs. They vaguely understood what had happened: the crippled and deformed Lord Raven had sent out hunters to capture the demon's heart, to transform himself into a perfect human, almost godlike.

Lord Raven, supported by crutches and wearing a crown heavy with precious stones that sat askew on his head, was helped by his servants to the temple entrance where the hunters and the last sorcerer had finally arrived. Over a hundred strong men had set out, but only four returned, all with blistered backs and swollen, cracked feet. The box containing Soleii's heart lay quietly on the stone floor. Lord Raven, excited, felt his deformed heart pound painfully against his ribs. He cast aside his crutches and dragged himself to the box, clutching his own heart, tightening with excitement, and ordered the box to be opened.

The demon's heart lay still in its cloth wrapping, looking beautiful. Raven knelt down, almost crying with satisfaction and reverence, rubbing his hooked nose against Soleii's heart, caressing the cardiac fibers through the fabric.

Lord Raven had never felt more complete as a human.

He cradled the demon's heart, smiling a hideous yet radiant smile that made the servants shudder with fear. He brought the heart to his mouth, ready to kiss it. At that moment, Hiver, with Soleii on his back, leaped forward, swallowing the entire heart and tearing part of Raven's face.

Blood splattered on the stone floor. The terrified hunters recoiled as Raven screamed in agony. With the last beat of her tiny remaining heart, Soleii awoke, stretching from the gray wolf's back to claw out Raven's eyes, swallowing the eyeballs whole. The lord clutched his empty sockets, writhing. A second later, Hiver lunged, biting through Raven's neck. In the dusty temple, the sound of bones breaking was crisp, the tearing of flesh was soft.

Swiftly and efficiently, the lord of the Valley of Temples died, before his deformed heart could beat its final rhythm. In this valley, the most generous elements were the wind and dust, which soon covered the unrecognizable face that had once been human.

The wolf and the demon looked around the temple, seeing only the frightened eyes of the servants hiding behind corners. Hiver laid Soleii down, spitting out the demon heart. After more than three months and many days soaked in poison, Soleii's heart was almost entirely necrotic. Returning the heart to Soleii would mean her eventual death. Tears streamed down Soleii's face, and Hiver's too.

Hiver bit off the last intact piece of the heart and placed it in Soleii's chest. The demon regained a bit of life, giving her a little more time. The wolf consumed the remaining necrotic heart, starting to grow human skin, while inside, Hiver began to rot.

"Let me carry you, and we'll find a way," Hiver spoke in human language, gently holding Soleii, lifting her onto his back, placing her hands around his neck, her head nestling against his fur.

"Maybe if we keep going, we'll find a way. Don't be afraid, I'm here, don't be afraid."

"But I'm scared," she whispered.

"Hush, it's okay," he reassured.

-

And so they left the Valley of Temples, this time moving slowly, gently. Hiver felt a thrill in every pulse, walking proudly under the sun, yet also felt death counting the rhythm of each new heartbeat. He was both elated and breaking apart.

He walked slowly, Soleii sleeping peacefully on his back. He concentrated all his life force into a single point, needing more time, hoping it would be enough.

With Lord Raven dead, the most formidable army torn apart by the demon in the deep forest, other lords rushed to plunder the wealth of the Valley of Temples. The fires of war flared up, consuming everything.

Hiver kept walking. Then winter came, followed by snow. The desert and hills were blanketed in white. Hiver and Soleii continued resolutely toward the snow. The deeper the snow, the deeper Hiver's tracks sank. The piece of heart they retrieved wasn't enough for Soleii to fully recover. Black blood began to drip from Soleii's legs. Their footprints and her blood—two strange entities intertwined on the white snow. Soleii's tattered body grew colder, her breaths light, eyes closed as if in a deep sleep. Hiver held her on his back, wrapping her hands tightly around his legs. His golden eyes tried to pierce through the snowy fog. They aimed for a coast, hoping that things might be a bit gentler in the warm breath of the ocean.

But before they reached the coast, Hiver's time ran out.

He laid Soleii on the snow, gently stroking her face, kissing her forehead. He tore out his own heart—a heart imbued with the demon's power and the wolf's courage, nourished by Hiver's blood—and placed it in Soleii's chest. The new heart connected to Soleii as if it had always belonged there. Hiver collapsed in the form of a gray wolf. His time ended there, without a chance to say goodbye to his dearest one.

But it was enough for the wolf's fur to keep Soleii warm until a new season arrived.