Cyrinne ran.
Silver-white paws tore across mountains while forests shattered beneath her weight. Rivers burst apart around her massive form as she fled deeper into lands untouched by civilization.
Behind her,
the mating bond screamed.
Every heartbeat felt wrong.
Pain clawed endlessly beneath her ribs, demanding she return.
Return to Isaac.
Return to the Demon Realm.
Return to the one soul her own had chosen.
Cyrinne kept running.
The night sky blurred above her.
Mountains became forests.
Forests became wastelands.
Entire kingdoms passed unnoticed beneath her feet.
Still,
she could feel him.
The bond did not weaken with distance.
If anything, it only worsened.
At some point, Cyrinne realized something horrifying.
She could no longer remember whether she was running from Isaac,
or from herself.
The Null Forest welcomed monsters.
It tries to devour everything else.
The ancient woods stretched endlessly across the northern continent, swallowing mountains, rivers, ruins, and entire civilizations beneath its endless trees. Strange creatures lurked beneath the roots. Even dragons avoided nesting there.
Demonic power weakened inside the forest.
Corrupted mana dissolved unnaturally fast.
Ancient primordial instincts ruled the land instead.
It was one of the few places in the world where even the Demon King could die.
And most importantly,
Isaac would never willingly enter it recklessly.
Not with an army.
Not while weakened.
Not while surrounded by creatures older than recorded history itself.
Cyrinne knew this.
But that was not the true reason she returned.
The Null Forest held memories.
Painful ones.
The forest reminded her that eternity always ended in loss eventually.
Isaac would never imagine she would willingly return somewhere tied to grief.
That misunderstanding alone bought her freedom.
So Cyrinne entered the Null Forest.
This was where her ancestors chose to cease their existence.
The graveyard of the Primarchs.
Once,
she escaped from this place.
Yet now,
it had become her refuge.
Years passed.
Cyrinne remained in her wolf form almost constantly.
Human thoughts hurt.
Human memories hurt.
Speech hurt most of all.
Whenever she transformed back, the mating bond inside her screamed for her to return to Isaac's side.
So she stopped becoming human.
The great white wolf wandered the forest endlessly instead.
Sometimes she slept beneath frozen lakes for years at a time.
Sometimes she hunted ancient monsters deep underground.
Sometimes she simply stared at the moon while longing slowly hollowed out her chest.
The forest adapted around her loneliness.
Creatures learned her scent.
Entire territories became silent whenever she passed.
Even the oldest beasts instinctively lowered their heads before the Primarch.
And gradually,
Cyrinne herself became something quieter.
Less woman.
More instinct.
More beast.
The years eventually blurred together.
Until one day,
a human entered her forest screaming.
"WHY ARE YOU CHASING ME?!"
Cyrinne slowly lifted her massive head from beneath the trees.
A tiny woman burst through the undergrowth at full speed while carrying an armful of mushrooms.
Behind her, a six-legged swamp beast snarled furiously.
"OKAY! I TOOK YOUR EGGS! YOU CAN ALWAYS LAY MORE!"
The monster lunged.
The human immediately threw mushrooms directly into its face.
"…Take that?!"
Cyrinne stared silently.
The swamp beast looked equally confused.
Then it became angrier.
The human screamed louder.
Cyrinne watched the disaster unfold for several moments before slowly turning away.
Then,
the screaming continued.
Relentlessly.
"…Still alive?" she thought blankly.
After that,
the human kept appearing.
Constantly.
She talked to flowers.
Argued with absolutely everything.
Complained loudly while gathering herbs.
Cursed dramatically whenever she tripped over roots.
Once, Cyrinne watched her spend nearly twenty minutes interrogating a tree because she believed it intentionally dropped fruit onto her head.
"I know you did it!" Jemina accused while pointing upward. "Come on! Do it once more, oh magical tree! I won't be mad. Promise!"
Her voice became oddly pleading near the end.
Cyrinne stared silently from nearby bushes.
A fruit immediately dropped onto Jemina's head.
Jemina gasped loudly as she picked up the fruit. .
"I knew it!!!"
The Primarch slowly lowered her head back into the bushes.
Another time, Jemina attempted to sing while cooking.
The large mudwolf usually attached to her side slowly buried its own head into the ground to avoid hearing it.
Even Cyrinne physically recoiled.
"The lyrics are atrocious. Why did she even learn those vulgar rhymes?" the Primarch wondered in genuine confusion.
And somehow,
despite herself,
Cyrinne kept watching.
She barely even noticed when it started.
The giant wolf slowly grew accustomed to Jemina's voice echoing through the trees.
The noise.
The laughter.
The constant complaints.
The human who somehow treated the deadliest forest in existence like an inconvenient public garden.
Then,
something changed.
Jemina finally succeeded in cooking something edible.
Cooked meat.
Simple.
Warm.
The scent drifted softly through the forest.
Cyrinne froze.
It had been years since she last cared about food.
Years since anything smelled comforting.
The Primarch stared silently through the trees while Jemina proudly held up the cooked meat like a victorious hunter.
"I DID IT!" Jemina shouted triumphantly. "Look at this… dry and tough burnt meat…"
The mudwolf beside her looked deeply confused.
"You want to taste it?"
Jemina offered the meat to the mudwolf.
The creature continued staring at her in visible betrayal.
Then,
Cyrinne stepped slowly from the shadows.
Jemina turned immediately.
Silence filled the forest.
The giant white wolf stared down at the tiny human.
Jemina stared back.
"…Good afternoon."
Cyrinne blinked.
No screaming.
No fear.
No running.
Jemina simply held up the burnt meat awkwardly.
"Do you want some?"
The mudwolf looked personally offended on Cyrinne's behalf.
And somehow,
for the first time in centuries,
the unbearable loneliness inside Cyrinne eased slightly.
Deep within her being, she felt it instinctively.
This was a decision she would never regret.
A dream.
Cyrinne slowly opened her eyes.
Late afternoon sunlight filtered softly through the cabin windows.
For several quiet moments, she remained motionless while memories drifted slowly through her mind.
Jemina.
The tiny human who had somehow walked directly into a Primarch's loneliness,
and refused to leave.
Cyrinne rubbed her eyes sleepily before standing.
At some point during the night, she had apparently removed all her clothes.
That seemed like a perfectly reasonable explanation.
Unimportant.
The Primarch wandered outside half-asleep.
The moment Lucas saw her,
his soul visibly departed his body.
"PUT SOME CLOTHES ON, STUPID WOMAN!!!"
Cyrinne blinked slowly.
Meanwhile, from the kitchen,
"Good morning, Cyrinne!" Jemina called cheerfully. "Food is ready!"
Lucas looked one second away from collapsing permanently.
Cyrinne ignored him entirely and continued toward the dining table.
The young mercenary turned away,
only to freeze immediately.
Rosaline stood directly behind him.
Her expression looked calm.
Too calm.
Then she smiled.
The smile did not reach her eyes.
"Rosaline—"
Rosaline walked past him silently before placing dishes onto the table slightly harder than necessary.
The plates clattered ominously.
"Whoa," Jemina whispered while peeking from the kitchen doorway. "Someone is in trouble."
Lucas glared at her instantly.
Rosaline quietly returned to the kitchen.
Lucas followed immediately like a man walking toward his execution.
Jemina sat down across from Cyrinne with obvious excitement sparkling in her eyes.
"I like jealousy tropes," she announced seriously, "but this is not erotica, so please clothe yourself more for the sake of the plot."
Cyrinne stared at her in confusion.
"You need to join me in following this show about Lucas and Rosaline," Jemina continued while tearing off a piece of bread. "It's a childhood-friends-to-lovers story. Very entertaining."
She began munching dramatically without taking her eyes off Cyrinne, clearly waiting for a response.
After a long pause, Cyrinne finally answered:
"… Changing clothes repeatedly is a nuisance, but I will try."
"Thank you for respecting literature."
Cyrinne did not try to understand what that meant.
"By the way," Jemina added casually, "where did you go last night? Ayine said you suddenly flew into the sky."
"Hm?"
"And you're covered in dust."
Cyrinne looked down at herself.
She was indeed filthy.
Dust clung across her skin and tangled through her silver hair.
"I…" Cyrinne frowned faintly. "I do not remember."
Jemina narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"Are you a dangerous drunk?"
"No."
"Should we be worried you randomly destroyed a city after one night of alcohol?"
"No. I am certain that—"
Memories suddenly resurfaced.
Stone collapsing.
Screaming demons.
The Demon King's fortress splitting apart beneath her claws.
Isaac yelling her name while entire towers exploded behind him.
Cyrinne froze.
"…Oh."
Jemina slowly lowered her bread.
"…Oh no."
Then suddenly...
"CYRINNNNNNNNNNNNE!!!"
The roar from outside shook the entire lodge.
Windows rattled violently.
Several Ghastlies screamed and jumped directly into the nearest barrel.
Everyone inside the cabin froze.
Silence.
Then chairs scraped loudly as people rushed outside.
Cyrinne stood slowly.
For the first time since arriving at the lodge, genuine panic crossed her face.
"…Isaac," she whispered breathlessly.