He reached out to touch the familiar, shimmering boundary of his father’s realm. Usually, the transition was seamless, his father would sense his presence and the barrier would part like mist, allowing him entry into the celestial sanctuary.

But this time, he was met with a firm, unyielding resistance. The boundary remained solid, vibrating with a quiet power that held him at bay.

Wulv’s brow furrowed in a deep frown but understanding dawned on him almost instantly, his father was perfectly aware he was there. The former King simply didn’t have the heart to face his son, to look into Wulv’s eyes and discuss the fate of the daughter he had spent a lifetime pampering.

Resigned, Wulv didn’t try to force the barrier. Instead, he slid down the side of the boundary, sitting with his back against the shimmering wall of his father’s heart. He stared out into the swirling void of the dimension, speaking softly to himself, knowing his words would ripple through the veil.

"I tried to protect her, Father," he whispered, his voice echoing in the vast emptiness. "I tried to build walls high enough that the world couldn’t reach her. I tried to give her a peace we never had."

He leaned his head back against the boundary. "But the walls I built only became her cage, and the peace I gave her turned into a delusion. Amethyst is right. You and I... we loved her into a state of weakness. And now, the world is at the gates, and she is the one holding the key."

He let out a held breath. "The Silver Kingdom has made their move. The Björn are being maneuvered. If I don’t use her now, the humans will. I have the plan, Father. My gift has already finished the map. But to walk it, I have to stop being her brother. I have to be her King."

"I have done the best that I could with her, and more," Wulv continued, his voice echoing against the unyielding barrier. "I even allowed her to spend all this time with those princes, despite our people’s vocal disagreement. I have bent and broken so many of our laws just to keep her shielded and happy, but this time... I don’t think there is any way to bypass the consequences."

He looked out into the shifting mists of the divine dimension, his expression hardening. "This is no longer the era where humans will simply swallow their disappointment and anger because we hold the greater power. We cannot just ignore them and expect silence."

"Now, it is different. Now, they hold power too. A choice must be made for the sake of our people. If we offend both kingdoms now, it will mean nothing but hardship for the godlings once they leave the protection of our borders. They would be outcasts in a world largely populated by huamns. One side must be chosen, Father. One bridge must be built so the others can be crossed."

Wulv sat there for a long while, the silence from the other side of the boundary acting as a heavy, silent confession of his father’s own guilt. Finally, Wulv stood up. He smoothed his robes and offered a deep, formal bow toward the boundary space, an acknowledgment of the King his father used to be and the God he had become.

"At least she will be happy," Wulv murmured, the cold light of his Constellation Gift flickering one last time before he suppressed it. "She will be with the one her heart favors. That is the only comfort I can take for her situation" 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

With those final words, his form shivered and dissolved, vanishing from the celestial realm. A moment later, his figure reappeared in the dim light of his office. He stood behind his desk, the silence of the room now feeling like a countdown. He reached out and picked up the Silver Kingdom’s proposal, his grip firm and his mind already drafting the summons for his sister.

On the other side of that shimmering veil, Maul stood exactly where Wulv had sensed him, his hand pressed against the inner surface of the boundary. He had felt every vibration of his son’s voice, every tremor of the guilt and cold logic that now warred within the new King’s soul.

He hadn’t opened the space. He hadn’t even offered a whisper of comfort. He knew that if he allowed contact, the resolve Wulv was trying so desperately to maintain would shatter. Maul knew his own heart, he would have made an unreasonable request. He would have begged his son to find a third way, to keep the girl safe, to sacrifice the kingdom’s stability for one more year of his daughter’s laughter.

"I am a coward," Maul thought, the realization echoing through the vastness of his domain.

He sighed. He had ascended to godhood to ensure the future of his people, yet here he was, unable to even look his successor in the eye because he couldn’t bear the price of that future. He had left Wulv to carry the burden of being the "cruel" one, the pragmatic ruler, while he remained in the clouds, haunted by the very sentimentality that had put them in this position.

Maul let his hand drop from the boundary. He watched the spot where Wulv’s presence had faded, feeling the finality of the choice his son had made. Wulv was right, the age of their absolute dominance had passed. The world was changing, and hesitation meant being left behind.

"Forgive me, my son," Maul whispered into the empty brilliance of his realm. "For leaving you to be the one who has to break her heart to save her life."

On the sun-drenched side of the continent, the atmosphere inside the Great Hall of the Björn Palace was thick with tension. Yuki sat upon her throne, the current Vessel of Björn positioned at her side. Before them, the full High Council was locked in a heated debate, their voices echoing off the walls as they dissected the Silver Kingdom’s recent maneuvers and their suspiciously timed diplomatic requests.

Suddenly, the air in the hall grew heavy, charged with a crushing pressure.

The Vessel sitting beside Yuki began to tremble. A vast stronger will, greater than anything a mortal shell could naturally contain descended into it. The shift was instantaneous. The council members, sensing the arrival of their god, didn’t hesitate, they hit the floor, taking a knee in a wave of synchronized reverence.

Only Yuki, Olaf, Finn, and the two other Paragons remained in their seats. Even for them, the weight was immense; they kept their heads bowed low, a silent sign of respect for the God who now peered through mortal eyes.

Björn took a moment to settle into the Vessel’s consciousness. He flexed the fingers of the host body, feeling the surge of vitality within. The muscles were firm, the veins clear, and the mana capacity was improving well.

A sense of smug satisfaction rippled through Björn’s divine mind. He took a moment to praise his own foresight, unlike many deities who crushed the souls of their vessels into nothingness, he had allowed this one to retain a core sense of self. By letting the original inhabitant maintain a drive for self-improvement, the body had become a much more resilient and evolving house for his spirit.

"Still growing," Björn thought, his voice vibrating through the Vessel’s throat with a deep depth that wasn’t there before.

Björn stood, but his feet did not touch the cold stone. He hovered inches above the steps to the throne. His first word was not a greeting, but a sentence "War."

The declaration hit the room like a physical blow. The Council members, who had been kneeling in silence, felt their hearts skip a beat before hammering against their ribs with newfound ferocity. Throughout the hall, the legendary Björn "madness" that primal, berserker rage that had been carefully shackled by law and civilization for decades began to stir. Eyes that were once calm clouded with a reddish hue, and the air grew thick with the scent of ozone and iron.

Björn’s gaze was distant, he was under certain law and hence could not be clear with his words.

"Listen well," he commanded, the authority in his voice vibrating in the very marrow of their bones.

"The mirror cracks beneath the claw, and the moon bleeds white upon the throne. When the Silver melts, it shall flow as a river to drown the forests. When the Great Wolf feasts on the crown, he shall find only a hook of cold light in his throat. The map is a shroud. The borders are scars. Do not look for survivors where the metal meets the marrow, look only for the Red Harvest that grows in the tracks of the fleeing."

As the final syllable left the Vessel’s lips, the crushing pressure vanished. The divine light faded from the host’s eyes, and the Vessel slumped back onto the throne, gasping for air as if he had been submerged in deep water.