A few moments longer, Richard continued watching the raven until its black silhouette disappeared beyond the line of trees.
The branches, stirred by the beat of its wings, gradually settled back into place, and the forest once again sank into its usual winter silence.
Snow continued to fall slowly from the sky, settling over the stone paths, rooftops, and bare branches, as though winter itself were trying to conceal everything that had happened here that night.
The wolf pup was still sitting before him.
Small, white-furred, and visibly exhausted from its long journey, it looked nothing like the creature Richard had expected to find in these lands.
Its breathing was heavy, its paws trembled slightly with fatigue, yet despite its wariness, the pup made no attempt to hide and showed none of the instinctive fear animals usually had of humans.
Kain was the first to break the silence.
“Do not touch it, milord.” Richard slowly turned his gaze toward him.
“Why?” Kain continued watching the creature carefully, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword.
“Because we do not know where it came from.” Richard looked back at the wolf pup, which had not taken its eyes off him.
“He is only a child.” “He is still a wolf,” Kain replied calmly.
“And we have no idea what might have brought him here.” There was reasonable caution in his words, but Richard had already noticed something that Kain, apparently, had not.
“He is wounded.” Only then did Kain lower his gaze toward the creature’s paws.
A thin streak of blood was indeed visible along its hind leg, almost immediately disappearing beneath the snow.
The wound was small, but the pup had clearly travelled a considerable distance despite it.
Richard straightened as much as the weakened muscles of his old body allowed and turned toward the butler standing nearby.
“Fetch Claudia and find a physician.
Have them examine him as soon as we return to the house.” “Yes, milord.” The butler was already preparing to carry out the order when Kain looked at Richard with some hesitation.
“You intend to leave it here?” Richard glanced toward the snow-covered forest from which the creature had presumably come alone.
“No.
At least not tonight.” A faint smile appeared on his face.
“First, we need to get him through the night.” As though sensing that the decision had already been made, the wolf pup slowly rose.
It took one uncertain step, then another, carefully placing weight on its injured paw before stopping beside Richard.
He lowered his gaze.
“Looks like he has already decided for us.” Kain let out a quiet sigh.
“That does not mean anything.” “I never said it did.” Richard gave the faintest smile.
“You are stronger than I am.” Kain shot him a brief, displeased look.
“Not exactly a difficult feat.” Richard gave a quiet chuckle.
“See?
Then the choice is obvious.” Kain said nothing more.
Removing his cloak, he crouched before the wolf pup and extended his arms.
The creature initially backed away, watching him warily, but after a few seconds, it finally allowed itself to be picked up.
Kain carefully wrapped it in his cloak, taking care not to touch the injured leg, and carried it toward the manor.
Richard followed behind, moving slowly with the aid of his cane.
However, before passing through the gates, he stopped.
The raven was sitting atop the stone pillar again.
The same one.
Richard was certain of it, though he could not explain where that certainty came from.
The bird was staring directly at him.
For several seconds, they remained perfectly still, as though some silent understanding existed between man and bird—a meaning Richard had yet to comprehend.
Then the raven spread its wings.
This time, it did not fly north.
The bird rose above the gates and flew straight toward the main house.
Richard followed its movement with his eyes until the black silhouette disappeared beyond the roof.
“Strange,” he murmured.
The butler, walking beside him, turned his head.
“What is, milord?” Richard continued staring at the roof where the raven had vanished for several seconds, but said nothing.
He did not know what, exactly, had seemed strange to him either.
Perhaps nothing.
Perhaps it had been nothing more than a raven that happened to be near the estate.
But then why did he have the distinct feeling that the bird had looked at him as though it truly knew who was standing before it?
Inside the house, it was considerably warmer.
After the biting cold outside, Richard almost immediately felt the exhaustion that had been building throughout the day begin to weigh heavily upon his body once more.
There had simply been too much to process, even for a man accustomed to making decisions under pressure: the journey into town, his encounter with Garrett Crowe, the confrontation with the guards, the betrayal, the memories, the first wolf, and now another wounded creature that had somehow found its way to the very gates of the estate.
The day had been far longer than he had expected.
Claudia appeared almost immediately after being summoned.
The moment she saw Kain carrying the white wolf pup in his arms, she stopped just inside the entrance and stared at it in silence for several seconds.
“Where did you find him?” “In the forest,” Kain replied.
Claudia frowned.
“Which part?” “Our forest.” She stepped closer and carefully examined the creature.
“A northern wolf.” “Kain already said that.” “No,” she replied quietly.
“That is not what I mean.” Claudia ran her fingers gently through the white fur, taking care not to cause the creature any unnecessary pain.
“He’s very young.
And severely malnourished.” The wolf pup shifted weakly in Kain’s arms before falling still again.
“The wound is shallow,” Claudia continued.
“If it’s treated properly, he should be fine.” Richard nodded.
“Then take care of him.” Claudia raised her eyes.
“Of course, milord.” Kain still did not look convinced.
“You truly intend to keep him at the estate?” Richard looked at him.
“Only until he is strong enough to move properly.” “And after that?” Richard considered the question for a moment.
“We’ll decide then.” Kain seemed about to object, but in the end he merely nodded.
The wolf pup gave a faint whimper.
Richard looked at him and, after a brief pause, added, “For now, he stays here.” Late that evening, Richard found himself back in his study.
The fire in the hearth had nearly died, leaving behind only the reddish glow of the embers, while night had long since settled beyond the windows.
Documents concerning the affairs of the estate lay scattered across the desk before him, but among the papers rested another sheet.
Upon it, Richard had drawn from memory the symbol he had seen earlier.
A raven.
A wolf.
A crossed-out eye.
For several minutes, he stared at the image, unable to understand why such a simple symbol stirred such an unpleasant feeling within him.
Footsteps sounded beyond the door.
A moment later, it opened, and the butler entered carrying a tray.
“You should eat, milord.” Richard did not even raise his head.
“I’m not hungry.” “That was not a request.” Richard finally looked at him.
“Sometimes you allow yourself too much.” A faint smile appeared on the man’s face.
“You gave me permission to do so yourself ten years ago.” Richard froze.
“Ten years?” “Yes, milord.” “And I actually gave you such permission?” “You said that if you ever started behaving like an idiot, I was not to be afraid to tell you so.” For several seconds, Richard simply stared at him before the corner of his mouth involuntarily twitched.
“Was I really that arrogant?” “Much worse.” This time, Richard could not suppress a short laugh.
The sound felt strangely out of place in the old study, yet with it, the tension that had lingered between them throughout the evening eased, if only slightly.
But the butler’s smile soon disappeared.
“Milord.” Richard noticed the change.
“What?” “About our conversation earlier.” “Garrett?” “Yes.” The butler placed the tray on the desk.
“I do not think he was lying.” “About what?” “Your father.” Richard leaned back in his chair.
“You knew Garrett Crowe?” “Personally?
No.” “But you had heard of him.” “Yes.” “From whom?” This time, the answer did not come immediately.
“From your father.” Richard slowly straightened.
“What exactly did he say?” “I did not know everything.” “Then tell me everything you do know.” The butler remained silent for a while, as though recalling a conversation that had taken place many years ago.
“Garrett Crowe was one of the men your father saved during the war.” “He was a soldier?” “No.” “Then what?” “A scout.” “For whom?” The butler met his eyes directly.
“For us.” Richard’s gaze shifted to the drawing lying on the desk.
“And what happened to him after the war?” “He disappeared.” “Why?” The answer came after a brief pause.
“Because he believed the House had abandoned the people it had promised to protect.” Richard frowned.
“So he was not simply a bandit.” “No.” “Then what was he?” The butler looked at him calmly.
“A man who once believed in the Ravenharts.” The words lingered in the silence of the study.
Richard slowly settled back into his chair.
If Garrett had truly once believed in his family, then his current hostility carried an entirely different meaning.
Perhaps he had never sought to destroy the House.
Perhaps he wanted proof that the Ravenharts were still capable of being what people had once trusted them to be.
“You said my father saved him.” “Yes.” “Why, then, did he become our enemy?” The butler looked away.
“Because a decision was made after the war.” “What decision?” A brief pause followed.
“To withdraw the military garrison from the city.” Richard slowly frowned.
“Who made that decision?” The butler looked at him.
“Your father.” And in that moment, a memory flashed before Richard’s eyes.
The study.
The same heavy scent of candle wax and paper, though the room now seemed brighter and more alive.
A young man stood behind the desk—the same man Richard had seen before, the man he had once been.
Dirty maps and torn letters lay before him, while several men stood gathered around the desk.
Richard did not immediately understand what they were discussing.
Then he heard his own voice.
“We cannot keep a garrison here.” Someone across from him answered, tension evident in his voice.
“Milord, people will die.” The younger Richard did not even look up from the map.
“I said we cannot.” The memory vanished as abruptly as it had appeared.
Richard closed his eyes and remained motionless for several seconds, trying to recover the missing details, but all that remained was emptiness.
“I saw it.” The butler frowned.
“What did you see?” Richard slowly opened his eyes.
“Him.” “Who?” “Myself.” He spoke quietly, as though he still could not entirely believe his own words.
“Young.” The butler studied him carefully.
“What was he doing?” “Making a decision.” “What decision?” Richard stared ahead.
“Leaving the city without protection.” The silence grew heavier.
“Then Garrett was right,” Richard finally said.
“About what?” “The city really was abandoned.” The butler did not argue.
“Yes.” Richard ran a hand over his face, feeling his own thoughts collide with the memories that did not belong to him.
Only moments ago, Garrett Crowe had seemed like nothing more than another problem that needed to be eliminated for the safety of the estate.
Now everything had changed.
He did not know whether Garrett had been right about everything else, but of one thing he could no longer doubt: there was a history connecting his downfall to the decline of House Ravenhart—a history the current generations had chosen to forget.
Richard picked up his pen.
Beneath the image of the raven and the wolf, he carefully wrote: Garrett Crowe.
Below it, another line appeared: The Grey Hounds.
And then one more: Find the reason for the break with the House.
He set the pen down and stared at the words for several moments.
“I am not going to simply destroy his gang.” The butler raised his eyes.
“What are you going to do?” Richard turned his gaze toward the Ravenhart crest hanging on the wall.
“Understand.” “And then?” Richard was silent for a moment.
“Then I’ll decide.” Meanwhile, in another part of the estate, Kain sat near the stables.
The white wolf cub was asleep on an old blanket, curled into a small ball.
Kain had settled nearby, leaning his back against the wooden wall, and glanced at the little creature from time to time.
He still did not trust it.
But, if he were being honest with himself, Kain did not trust the circumstances that had brought the wolf cub to the gates on that particular day either.
And it was not only about the cub.
Over the past few days, the Ravenhart family had encountered a wolf near the estate for the second time.
The first incident, Kain could still dismiss as a simple coincidence.
That wolf had been found in the forest—wounded, exhausted, and barely able to stand on its paws.
But now it was happening again.
Another young wolf.
Another injured one.
And once again, right near the Ravenharts.
Kain frowned, his gaze lingering on the snow-white creature.
A coincidence?
Perhaps.
But if so, why had both incidents occurred practically one after another?
His thoughts inevitably returned to Richard.
Kain did not know whether any of this could somehow be connected to him.
Then another, far stranger thought entered his mind—could it be that the blood of the Ravenharts was somehow drawing them here?
He immediately dismissed the idea.
It sounded far too unbelievable, even considering everything that had happened lately.
And yet…
Kain looked at the wolf cub again.
He could not shake the uneasy feeling that there was something more to this.
Something they had yet to notice.
Still, the creature itself did not seem supernatural in any way.
Just a young northern wolf, too weak to continue on its own.
Kain looked at him once more.
The cub slept peacefully, experiencing warmth and safety for the first time in a long while.
Its breathing was steady, and its white fur rose and fell almost imperceptibly with every breath.
“I hope you, at least, won’t cause any trouble,” Kain muttered.
The cub merely twitched an ear in its sleep.
Kain smiled faintly and turned away.
Perhaps it really was nothing more than a coincidence.
At least, Kain wanted to believe it was.
He did not yet know that this little white wolf would one day become a part of the Ravenhart family in a way far greater than anyone could have imagined.
But that was a matter for the future.
Writing Late at night, Richard was once again standing by the window of his room.
The estate had fallen asleep.
Somewhere in the distance, a door slammed, then everything fell silent again, and only the wind continued to move along the walls, making the old beams creak softly.
Richard placed his palm against the cold glass.
Beyond it lay the snow-covered courtyard, and farther still, beyond the estate walls, began the dark forest.
Somewhere out there was the wolf cub they had taken in from the cold.
Somewhere out there, a raven had recently disappeared.
And farther still, beyond the northern lands, lay something he knew far too little about.
Eldarion.
Richard did not understand why, at the mere thought of that name, a strange feeling stirred within him, as though it had been waiting for him for a very long time.
He closed his eyes.
For a moment, he thought he could hear the distant cry of a raven again.
But when Richard opened his eyes, everything outside the window was quiet.
Only snow.
Only night.
Only the endless North, concealing the answers he had yet to find.
And for the first time since awakening, Richard realized that his second chance had not begun with his return to life.
It had begun with questions.
And there were more and more of them.