Never Bend

Prologue

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My vision...
Life continues whether we want it or not,
She continues to flow like a torrent.
Be ready to navigate murky waters,
Because she will carry you away
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The light of the crescent moon fades softly over the forest. The air caresses my cheek, stripped of its usual essence. The magical vibrations it once carried are gone.

Alone at the entrance of a subterranean refuge, I felt lost in this unfamiliar forest. The sturdy roots anchoring the ground growled and trembled around me, reshaping the path ahead of me where the galleries had been just minutes ago. A tree, seemingly unbothered, stood sentinel at the entrance, lingering at the edge as if guarding some ancient secret. The surrounding area felt distinctly different from any place I'd encountered in the past few days.

My head spins with too many thoughts. This place feels unlike any of the others I've passed through in recent days. Here, the bare trees and tall conifers stand in eerie silence. It's unsettling, a stark contrast to the constant rustle of the forest I grew up with. Each tree back home had its own behavior, its own voice. I knew them all, having befriended them as the only child in the area. They rarely spoke to magicians, not even the powerful ones. I was fortunate to have such wise and willing companions.

Here, in this distant land, the trees stand unnaturally still, as if some ancient magic had long since washed their souls clean. I can't help but wonder : who wields such power, and why would they use it this way? Every witch needs nature to restore her strength. Where I come from, we nurture the land. But here... how do witches survive?"

A tightness coils in my chest. My eyes sting. Once, it was an unfamiliar sensation until we left the Wolf Realm. Back then, I rarely cried. But now... now I understand the word that's settled in my bones these past few days: anxiety. This journey has worn me thin, and being surrounded by others carrying the same fear has only made it worse.

Worse still, my dad had gone a different way a while back. Being hunted by fully trained men with skilled trackers was bad enough, but trying to run while protecting younger kids was even harder. I had to stay behind with another group. The woman, who my dad told me to call my mother, was the leader. She said I had to stay here and hide with the others. She had to go back to look for him.

Dad and I... we always felt like we were living on two sides of a line. He was always coming or going, like a shadow slipping past the edge of my life. I'd only see him once in a while, a few times a year if I was lucky. He always said his duty came first. I used to nod like I understood. But all I really knew was that he never stayed.

Still, I waited. I always waited. Even when the days got long and quiet, even when no one said his name, I kept a part of myself ready, longing, wishing he would come back. Because when he was there, everything felt different. Softer. Like I mattered. He was the only one who looked at me like I wasn't just a soldier or a mistake. He saw me. And in a place where I had to be strong all the time, that meant everything.

Back there, I was surrounded by soldiers: tough ones, cold ones. They never smiled, never asked if I was okay. To them, I was a warrior in the making, not a child. There was no softness. No comfort. No space for feelings. Just orders. Just silence. Just duty.

The truth was, I missed my dad. I missed him more than I could say. And I wanted a mother. THE mother he once told me about. The one from his stories, the one he showed me in a small, worn photo. She had kind eyes and a warm smile. But the woman he told me to call "Mother" wasn't like that. Not when he wasn't around. She was sharp, quiet, always thinking ten steps ahead. Cold, like winter stone. Not at all what he'd promised.
Where was he now?