Conrí

It was a seemingly average, if dreary evening. Wolves and other critters milled about the area, bartering items of value and socializing with one another. A light mist sprinkled the air, cool drafts spreading it across the horizon. The sky was a dull grey, as was customary for wintertime in the area, and yet for one young wolf in particular, the gloom was suffocating.

Conrí weaved his way in between the sea of bodies, green cloak shadowing his form and allowing him to blend in with the other travellers. His heart felt as though it would beat right out of his throat. His legs felt numb, paws taking him to his destination almost on autopilot, physically focussed even as his mind scattered further with each passing instant.

Finally, after what felt like days, the young male stopped in front of a dirty, ripped, and ugly-looking tent. In spite of its shambled appearance, Conrí knew exactly who - or rather, what - awaited him inside. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he padded through the entrance, shrugging off his hood and letting weariness take hold of his form.

The she-wolf staring at him now looked more like a fox than the canid she supposedly was. Her gaze was sharp, her smile sharper still. And then there was that sickly sweet voice.

"And what might your name be, little one?"

Do not be deceived by her kind words. This wolf was highly renowned as the most evil and powerful witch in all the lands. That is the only reason Conrí had sought her out in the first place. He needed to achieve the impossible. So, steeling his nerves, he replied,

"Conrí."

Instantly, nausea overtook him, along with the deep-set weight of dread, settling in his bones as seconds ticked past.

"Conrí," the vixen-like wolf repeated, as though it were a spell to be uttered with reverence. "And, my dear Conrí, what might a little old mange nest like me be able to do for you?" As though to punctuate her comment, she took a moment to use her hind leg and scratch at a spot behind her ear. It was a clear empty gesture; anyone could see from a glance that her fur was flawlessly kept.

"Please, it's my mate; Accalia. She- She's-" No matter how hard he tried, Conrí found himself unable to say the words, as if that alone would cement them as fact, admitting the thing he'd been desperately denying since its occurrence. She's dead.

The vixen-wolf, however, seemed to read his mind, as she merely nodded with a faint air of amusement, and stood to walk further into the tent. Conrí followed, mindless and desperate with grief.

"And you wish to bring her back, yes? You understand that this will be no easy feat, nor will it come for free on either of our parts?"

Conrí nodded firmly. This was an easy question for him. "I'll do anything. Whatever you want, it's yours, if you can bring her back."

The witch paused in her tracks. She slowly turned her head to look at the wolf trailing her, her grin appearing somehow broader, sharper, even more chilling than before. "Anything?"

"Anything," Conrí affirmed, refusing to back down after getting this far. The witch studied him for a moment longer, before she seemed to find what she was looking for, and whirled back around to continue walking.

"It would seem that you're in luck, little one. Your determination is just enough for the task. I must inquire once more, though." She turned around again, and this time, her smile had vanished, a look of solemn despair replacing it. Conrí stood for a moment, stunned by the sudden juxtaposition. "Are you absolutely certain that you'd be willing to give anything in order for this wolf to live? Would you risk even her very soul along with your own?"

"Yes," Conrí replied, more confident than ever. He understood the risks that came with indulging in such dark magic. He'd done the searching he needed to find every detail on the admittedly obscure process, and he was more than certain of his choice.

"...Very well." The vixen-wolf turned fully to face him, now, and stalked forward until the two were almost nose-to-nose. She ducked her head and used her muzzle to guide Conrí's head upward, so he faced the ceiling. In the next instant, Conrí felt a flash of pain, rivalling anything he'd ever experienced before. He opened his jaws to howl in shock and hurt, but found that no sound would escape him. He could only wait as he felt the she-wolf's claws rip through his throat, severing his veins and windpipe all in one ugly slash.

"I, Gwynnevere, hereby declare this wolf, Conrí, along with his mate, Accalia, the new Overseers of Limbo. I give up my role, as well as my mate's, and pass them on to these most willing souls, offering them up and obtaining freedom for our own vessels in exchange. Heed these words, and consume these existences as you once consumed mine. Let it be done, as the balance is once more struck and restored. Let it be done in full."

As the witch's speech came to a close, Conrí felt his consciousness fade away, and he closed his eyes for what he thought to be the final time. I'll see you soon, my love...

When he next opened his eyes, the once-average wolf would find himself awakening in a foreign realm, the love of his life rising by his side, and a new destiny laid out in front of him, along with power beyond his greatest imagination. He would be the new King of Limbo, a realm of shadows and emptiness, and despite its bleak nature, he would soon come to conquer his new land, and claim his throne in a way none of his predecessors had ever dared to attempt. Limbo was his home, and he wouldn't let anything take what was his away from him again. Even if it cost his soul. Even if he'd already paid that price.

With a new ruler, two (and perhaps more) new faces, and a world filled to the brim with mystery, Conrí would awaken, and would slowly begin to understand the cost of what he'd done. He was so focussed on returning to his love, that he didn't even realize what he'd lost in the process, or where he'd truly been taken.

Perhaps someday he'll uncover the truth for himself, and find a way to restore the balance between two worlds. Perhaps he'll manage to rid the universe of its perilous captor once and for all.

Or perhaps he'll never break free, and will continue to spiral forever, into the depths of the void known as Limbo.