Chapter 3:It's your turn

Velric stood frozen, chest heaving and legs trembling as he stared at the silhouette in front of him. The darkness around them seemed to breathe, pulsing with a suffocating energy.

The figure didn’t move just stood there, towering over him by at least a head. Broad shoulders and muscular build made Velric feel even more pathetic in comparison. It was a Lapinite, just like him, but far more imposing. The figure’s fur was the same pitch-black as Velric’s, and despite the lack of light, his eyes glowed a deep, sorrowful gold.

Velric couldn’t bring himself to speak.

'What was this thing? Why did it feel so familiar?'

The silhouette leaned down, its massive hand reaching out. Velric didn’t flinch. Maybe it would just end him. Maybe that would be easier.

Instead, the hand touched his forehead, and suddenly...

His world shattered.

His mind was pulled into a vortex of memories not his own, but countless others. Images flashed before his eyes, faster than he could comprehend. He was living and dying, over and over again.

A young Lapinite ran through a village square, fear twisting his face as a crowd closed in, shouting and cursing his black fur. His legs burned, and his lungs felt like they would burst. He slipped between carts and down alleys, desperately searching for a way out. But no matter how fast he ran, they always caught up always cornered him and the blades always found him.

Velric felt his throat tighten as the scene blurred and shifted.

A warrior sprinted through a forest engulfed in flames, heart pounding as the howls of his pursuers grew closer. His instincts screamed at him to fight back, but he couldn’t he wasn’t strong enough. He pushed forward, leaping over roots and ducking under branches, but his foot caught on a root, and he crashed to the ground. Claws raked across his back, and the world faded to black.

Another memory washed over him an old Lapinite staggering through a frozen wasteland, his body frail and broken. Snow whipped against his fur as he forced one foot in front of the other. He muttered something under his breath an apology to himself, perhaps. He collapsed into the snow, his life slipping away, and his final thought was of all the times he had run from the truth.

Velric’s head pounded as the memories continued life after life, always the same. Always running. Always dying.

The memories settled, and Velric found himself standing on a vast, desolate plain. The sky was an ashen gray, and a cold wind cut through his fur. In front of him stood the silhouette, now clearer a Lapinite warrior of immense presence, towering and powerful, with the same dark fur and sorrowful golden eyes.

Velric swallowed hard, barely able to breathe. “Who... who are you?”

The figure regarded him with a gaze that seemed to pierce his soul. His voice was deep and steady, carrying the weight of countless lives.

“I am the First. The one who stopped running.”

Velric felt a shiver crawl down his spine. “Stopped running? What does that mean?”

The First looked past him, as if seeing something far beyond. “All who came before you chose to flee from fear, from fate, from themselves. The curse of our bloodline is not weakness... it is cowardice. A refusal to face who we are. I broke that chain once. I stopped running and faced my fear.”

Velric bit his lip. “Then why did you die?”

The First smiled a grim, tired smile. “Because when I stopped running, I found that fate was crueler than fear. I awakened to my inner being and fought. But in the end, something stronger found me something greater than what I could become.”

He stepped closer, placing a massive hand on Velric’s shoulder, the weight of it both comforting and crushing.

“We are destined to break free or die chained to our fear. I chose to stand and fight, even if it meant death. You... you have that same choice.”

Velric clenched his fists, anger and frustration bubbling to the surface. “But I’m not like you. I’m nothing.”

The First gripped his shoulder tighter. “No. You are more than you know. The fear that binds you is your greatest enemy not your peers, not your bloodline. Yourself. Break the cycle. Stop running. Face fate. Whether you stand or fall, make your choice and carve your own path.”

The First’s form began to fade, his figure melting into the shadows. His final words whispered through the air:

“It’s your turn.”

Velric awoke with a gasp, clutching his chest as sweat drenched his fur. He sat upright, heart still hammering from the dream or was it a vision? The ache of the beatings remained, but his mind burned with something new.

Something shifted within him like a chain snapping. He didn’t fully understand it, but for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel completely worthless.

As dawn crept through the cracked window, Velric whispered to himself:

“No more running."

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