The founder stayed.
He stood at the edge of the camp with his heavy sword and killed every raider who tried to enter.
He built wooden houses for the refugees.
He taught the young men how to fight.
When he made plans to leave and travel west, the people dropped to their knees on the ground and begged him to stay and lead them.
He agreed.
He became their king.
He spent decades expanding the borders, winning land, and protecting the weak.
The young wolf boy he had saved from the ruins of Olio grew up by his side, eventually becoming his top advisor, the man who held the keys to the city.
Williams Renn Vikings.
The name hit my mind like a heavy stone dropping into deep water.
Williams was the name of the trusted advisor who turned against the founder.
He was the wolf who sold his king to the enemy after receiving fifty years of shelter and safety.
My chest heaved as I looked at Elden standing in front of me.
My pulse hammered in my ears.
He was the founder from my father’s old stories.
He was the king everyone thought died hundred years ago.
I remembered another detail my father had mentioned.
He said the founder was over 400 hundred years old when he disappeared from La Fita.
I looked Elden up and down, taking in his broad chest, his thick arms, and his sharp, smooth face.
Five hundred years old?
He did not look old at all.
He did not look like the wrinkled grey elders who sat in our pack council back home.
He looked handsome.
Very handsome.
I caught myself thinking that word and immediately squeezed my hands into fists.
Why was I thinking about his looks right now?
A minute ago, I wanted him to hold me.
Now I was standing here staring at his mouth, wondering how his skin would feel against mine.
My head was spinning.
My body was reacting to his presence in a way I could not control or explain, could it be because I am wet?
Don’t misunderstand me, I mean Like body wet.
But one thing was clear in my head now.
I was not going to leave this cave without him.
If we were going to get out of this dark pit, I was going to help him break that second chain no matter what it takes.
I took a step toward him, setting my feet firmly on the sand.
“I remember the story now,” I said, my voice steady.
Elden kept his grey eyes fixed on my face.
“What story?”
“My father told me about the founder of La Fita,” I said, looking at the heavy iron band still wrapping his right wrist.
“I never knew it was you.”
His eyes remained cold and quiet.
“What exactly did your father tell you about me?”
I took a breath and held his gaze.
“He told me the founder was betrayed by his closest advisor. He said the Kingmaker bloodline was tied directly to the royal throne. If a king failed to keep the Kingmaker line close, his kingdom would fall apart and his power would fade.”
I pointed a finger at his chest.
“My father told me the founder died and since then wolfs no longer have their abilities”
I stepped closer, stopping two feet away from his chest.
“I thought you were dead. Everyone above ground thinks you are dead.”
“I was dead to them,” Elden said, his voice flat.
“That is what the advisor wanted everyone to believe. It is easier to rule a city when the people think the true king is resting six feet under the ground.”
I studied the strange white marks running along his bare arms and across his chest.
“I need you to prove you are really him,” I told him.
Elden lifted his right arm, rattling the long chain that bound him to the wall.
“I am chained to a stone wall, Jessica. This chain on my right arm is full of suppression magic. It shuts down my strength and keeps my wolf locked deep inside my bones.”
He lowered his arm, letting the heavy metal links hit the floor with a loud clatter.
“I cannot pull a mountain down or turn into a giant wolf to prove my identity to you right now.”
I folded my arms across my wet dress.
“The story my father told matches you. He said the founder woke up from the battle of Olio with strange marks on his skin where the ancient magic touched him. You have those same marks on your arms.”
My hand moved up without my permission, my fingers touching the metal heirloom hanging beneath my dress collar.
“So yes,” I said, looking into his eyes.
“I believe you are the founder. But I still do not completely trust you.”
Elden did not say a word.
He stood there, waiting for me to finish.
“I cannot just trust a man because he tells me a historical tale,” I continued, keeping my voice firm.
“There are dark spirits, shape shifters, and things in this world I do not understand. What if you are a monster pretending to be a hero?”
A faint smile touched the corner of his lips.
“What if I am lying to you?”
I swallowed hard, my throat feeling dry.
“I need real proof before I touch that chain.”
Elden watched me for three long seconds.
Then he took a step forward, bringing his broad chest inches away from my face.
“Come closer,” he said softly.
I stood my ground, refusing to take a step back.
“Why?”
“I will prove to you that I am the wolf from your father’s stories,” he murmured, his deep voice bouncing off the stone walls around us.
“Your blood carries a mark that answers to mine.”
He leaned his head down, his dark grey eyes searching my face.
“And your presence is making it very hard for me to keep my distance.”
I wrinkled my nose and tried to sound tough, pretending I was not affected by his breath on my neck.
“That is probably just your natural instincts acting up.”
“My instincts?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
“You said the people above throw a girl down into this hole every five years, right?” I asked, pointing a finger toward the pile of old clothes in the corner.
“Maybe it has been five years since the last one, and you are just desperate for company.”
Elden shook his head slowly.
“You talk too much when you are nervous.”
I ignored his comment and kept my eyes on his face.
“You say you are over hundred years old.”
“I am.”
“And you have been sitting in this dark room for over a hundred years.”
“I have.”
“Then answer me one thing,” I said, narrowing my eyes.
“How was Williams still alive long enough to turn against you? Normal wolves do not live for hundreds of years.”
Elden let out a slow breath, leaning back against the rock wall behind him.
The movement stretched the muscles in his chest and arms.
“When I died in the battle of Olio, I was already over a hundred years old,” he said quietly.
“The wolf boy I saved was young. It was his first war. He was barely sixteen years old. That was the main reason I picked him up and carried him on my shoulder. He was too young to die.”
I kept my mouth shut and listened to every word.
“Like you said We traveled together for fifty years before we ever built the first wooden house in La Fita,” Elden continued.
“By the time the city walls were built, I was over two hundred years old. I looked thirty. He was sixty years old, and he was starting to age like a normal wolf.”
His voice grew colder, like ice forming on dark river water.
“I gave him power. I made him my chief advisor. I gave him gold, land, and a seat at my right hand. He married a woman from the high pack. He had three sons. His sons grew into grown men, and Williams began to look like an old man with grey hair and weak knees.”
Elden squeezed his free left hand into a hard fist.
“He looked at me every morning in the council room. He saw that my skin was smooth, my back was straight, and my strength was unchanged. While his body was slowly breaking down with age, I remained immortal.”
His eyes went dark as he stared at the far stone wall.
“Jealousy is a quiet poison, Jessica. It sits inside a man’s mind for years, growing bigger every time he looks in the mirror. He started to hate me for living while he was dying. He wanted the royal throne for his sons before his own life ended. So he made a deal with dark forces, put poison in my wine, and locked me in this hole.”
I stood quietly, adding up the timeline in my head.
Five hundred years of life.
A bloody war in Olio.
A young survivor rescued from the ruins.
Fifty years of wandering through wild lands.
Building La Fita from wooden huts to stone walls.
A growing family, aging advisor, and decades of silent jealousy.
The story made sense.
It fit together cleanly, without any gaps or strange lies.
I took a deep breath and nodded my head once.
“Okay.”
I took a small step closer to him, stopping right in front of his boots.
“So how are you going to prove it to me right now?”
Elden bent his knees slightly, bringing his face down until his grey eyes were level with mine.
We were standing closer than we had ever been since I woke up in this cave.
I could feel the natural heat radiating from his broad chest through his shirt.
Neither of us spoke for a long minute.