The dreams continued.
Every few nights, Ragnar woke screaming. The wolves with red eyes came to him in sleep, circling, whispering things he couldn't quite remember upon waking. He grew pale. He lost weight. Dark circles formed under his eyes.
Kaelan stopped sleeping altogether.
He sat by his son's bed each night, the Leviathan Axe across his knees, watching for threats both seen and unseen. Sigrid took the day shift, watching Ragnar during his waking hours, making sure he ate, keeping him close to the village.
"It's getting worse," she said one evening, her voice low so Ragnar wouldn't hear. "He's fading, Kaelan. If this continues—"
"It won't." Kaelan's voice was hard. "I'll find whoever's doing this and make them stop."
"How? You don't even know what it is."
Kaelan had no answer for that.
---
Vladimir sent word through Korvus three days later.
"The Master invites you to the court. He has found something. Information that may help your son."
Kaelan went alone this time. Sigrid wanted to come, but he refused.
"If something happens to me, Ragnar needs you. Stay. Protect him."
She hated it, but she understood.
---
The Night Court was different this time. Darker. Quieter. The vampires lined the walls like statues, their red eyes following Kaelan's progress but their bodies utterly still.
Vladimir waited at the center of the hall, standing before a massive stone table. On it lay a map—not of lands, but of something else. Dimensions, perhaps. Spaces between worlds.
"The dreams your son experiences," Vladimir said without preamble, "are not merely dreams. They are visitations. Something is reaching across the dimensional boundaries to touch him."
Kaelan studied the map. It meant nothing to him. "What kind of something?"
"Old things. Hungry things." Vladimir pointed to a spot on the map—a void, empty of markings. "There is a dimension here. Unnamed. Unclaimed. It has existed since before this universe was formed. And something in it has noticed your son."
"Why?"
"Because your son is unique. The first child of a progenitor. Such beings are rare in the multiverse. They are... valuable." Vladimir's ancient eyes were grim. "Whatever is in that dimension wants to claim him. To twist him. To make him its own."
Kaelan's hands clenched into fists. "How do I stop it?"
"You can't. Not alone." Vladimir met his gaze. "But we can help. Vampires have walked the dark paths for millennia. We have allies in places humans cannot reach. We can shield your son from the dreams. Buy you time."
"And in return?"
Vladimir was silent for a long moment. Then: "In return, when your son grows into his power, he will owe us a favor. One favor. To be named at a time of our choosing."
Kaelan stared at him. "You want my son's future."
"I want his gratitude. His alliance. His friendship." Vladimir's voice was soft. "We are old, Kaelan Ragnar. We have seen empires rise and fall. We have watched gods die and demons fade. But we have never seen anything like your bloodline. When your son becomes what he is meant to become, we want him to remember who helped him when he was vulnerable."
Kaelan considered. It was a dangerous bargain—binding his son to vampires. But if it meant saving Ragnar from whatever was reaching for him...
"I need to think about it," he said finally.
"Of course." Vladimir gestured toward the exit. "But do not think too long. The dreams will not wait."
---
Kaelan returned to the village to find chaos.
Ragnar was missing.
Sigrid met him at the edge of the village, her face white with terror. "He was right beside me. I turned for one moment—one moment—and he was gone. Kaelan, he's gone."
Kaelan's world narrowed to a single point.
"Where?"
"The forest. Toward the old rockslide. The hunters found tracks."
Kaelan didn't wait. He ran.
---
He found Ragnar at the base of the rockslide, standing before a crack in the earth that hadn't been there before. It glowed with faint red light, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Ragnar stood perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the crack. His lips moved, but no sound came out.
Kaelan approached slowly, afraid to startle him. "Ragnar. Son. Come back to me."
Ragnar didn't respond. His eyes—his blue eyes—were flickering with red light.
The crack pulsed. A voice emerged from it—not in words, but in feeling. Hunger. Want. Mine.
Kaelan moved.
He grabbed Ragnar, pulling him away from the crack. The red light flared, reaching for them both. Kaelan felt it touch his mind—ancient, vast, hungry.
He roared.
The White Wolf rose within him, not partially but fully. He shifted in an instant, the massive wolf form tearing through his human shape. His jaws closed on the tendril of red light and ripped.
The crack screamed.
The sound was not physical—it was psychic, spiritual, a wound in reality itself. The red light flickered, withdrew, and the crack began to close.
But before it vanished completely, the voice spoke one last time.
Your bloodline is mine, progenitor. Your son. Your descendants. All of them. I will wait. I am patient. I am eternal.
The crack sealed.
Kaelan stood in the forest, still in wolf form, Ragnar clutched against his chest. The boy was unconscious but breathing. Alive. Safe.
For now.
---
Sigrid found them an hour later. She fell to her knees, gathering Ragnar into her arms, weeping with relief.
Kaelan shifted back to human form, exhausted, shaken.
"We need help," he said quietly. "I can't do this alone."
Sigrid looked at him, her eyes red but steady.
"Then we find help. Together."
---
The next day, Kaelan returned to the Night Court.
Vladimir was waiting, as if he had known Kaelan would come.
"I accept your offer," Kaelan said. "Protect my son. Shield him from the dreams. And when he's old enough, if he chooses to honor the debt, that's his decision. I won't force him."
Vladimir nodded slowly. "Fair enough."
He extended his hand. Ancient, pale, but steady.
Kaelan took it.
The alliance was formed.
---
END OF CHAPTER 17