Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening everyone, we pick up from the events of Chapter 5 with Chapter 6 - Crossroads.

I really hope you enjoy this chapter and the story so far!

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Chapter 6 - Crossroads

“What’s happening?!” came the rolling thunder of a woman’s silky, yet spine-rattling voice.

Lupus Kintsugi knew he was making a mistake, but he continued anyway.

Around him, commuters were fighting their way out of the square. Pedestrians tried to flee the scene, scattering across the concourse in cars and on foot. Somebody leant on their horn and the noise blared out, jolting the arctic wolf who stood a few meters away from the golden retriever’s paw.

Some viewed him with disapproval. They must have thought he was the dog’s partner in crime. His posture—head tilted, arms outstretched—projected confidence, masking his anxiety to approach.

Lupus concentrated on her moves. He knew her looking glass had undergone a permanent alteration, but he saw the trapped soul of an unconsenting ascendant. A woman looked at her new, enlarged form in shock and horror.

“Please!” she pleaded to the surrounding neighbourhood. “Please, someone tell me what’s happening?”

He wanted to answer; he had to answer, but nothing came out of the wolf’s open maw. Still, he summoned the courage he possessed around American Vastelerians. Whether real or imaginary, he swallowed his fear and spoke up.

“I beg you–”

Lupus knew that no one else understood how to approach or console someone of that size. Most people fled the square. Lupus had to compose a golden retriever. Despite the tremor in his legs and the weight pressing against his throat, he cupped his hands around his maw. “Hey, hey! It’s going to be okay!”

The giantess did not address him but continued to scan the city. Just when Lupus was about to shout again, the earth rumbled when her enormous form shifted to turn.

Asphalt cracked further beneath her paws. Displaced air followed her movement and whipped through the street, stirring dust, scattering leaves, and ruffling the bystanders’ fur and clothes. The vibration shot up Lupus’s legs and rattled his bones as he watched the canine make sense of her surroundings.

Lupus lunged forward. He raised his hand, braced against the quivering ground, and reached for her. His claws yanked at a series of rope-thick ankle fur strands and gave them a firm tug.

“Lupy, be careful!” Tyler projected from across the street, but the wolf had already tugged at her fur a second time. The otter stepped back in retreat and fished his phone out of his pocket.

The wolf glanced back at his friend on the other side of the road until he noticed the otter’s phone camera pointing upwards. He would have told Tyler to stop recording, but his attention deviated when the otter pointed to the sky.

Lupus turned.

Above him, the golden retriever’s emerald eyes had found him. Then her lips parted and released a gale of humid breath.

“H-hello?”

The wolf’s fur rippled as the first syllable shook the air. It came out like an explosion. Her voice blasted down from above, loud enough to rattle the library windows and make Lupus’s hands flinch to cover his ears. Even across the street, a car alarm wailed in protest.

She winced and covered her mouth. “I-I’m sorry,” she added, but her voice still boomed despite her best efforts. “I’m sorry.”

Lupus lowered his hands, while he managed a small, sincere smile up to her. “It’s okay,” he called up. “It’s okay. Just take it steady, Miss…?”

“... Clara,” she whispered, or tried to. “My name is Clara. I'm a doctor at London Hospital, I'm twenty-five, a massive football fan, no pun intended...sorry, my friends say I rant a lot.”

“Clara, relax” he breathed. “Try not to move too much, okay?”

Clara nodded.

Lupus took a cautious step back and craned his neck further back to keep her in view. “Okay,” he said. “You’re doing great. Go back one step from the library.”

“Alright, I’ll try,” she mumbled and peeled her padded paw off the street. Dust and powdered concrete rained down from the ascending sole as it swung back towards Tyler.

The passage of time slowed for Tyler when the canine’s sole cast a shadow over him. The otter tilted his phone camera upwards just in time to catch the coal-black padding of Clara’s foot paw swinging into view. He took one pace backward, his posterior brushing cold metal.

“Wait—Clara!” Lupus yelled up, but her paw came down all the same. A minor tremor vibrated through the asphalt as if the earth itself was groaning under Clara’s weight.

Once the ground settled, Lupus noticed something had wedged the otter between two toes the size of tree trunks. Behind the junior reporter, the unmistakable crushing of an automobile crumpling under the immense pressure.

Panic flooded Clara’s face after she heard the crunch. A brown furry animal was between her toes, which relieved her, but her attention remained on the object under her paw.

Clara lifted her paw to inspect it. “Oh God,” she muttered at the car wreckage. “I’m so sorry, I’ll pay for that,” she added and placed her paw down in the middle of the street beside Tyler.

Before Lupus or Tyler could respond, distant sirens wailed, rising from the street. In the sky behind the building roof, the whir of helicopter blades closed in with each passing second. The sounds grew louder, and Clara’s already fragile composure cracked.

From below, Lupus tilted his head up to peek past her, and the helicopter that opened its side door. Mounted inside was a harpoon-like rifle that aimed towards the golden retriever. Inside, instead of a harpoon, was a sedative projectile. Before the wolf could alert Clara, the anaesthetic dart whistled through the air and…

Just when the dog prepared to move, her body jerked when something struck her neck. The world around blurred as a heavy, dizzying wave of calmness flooded her system. Another car vanished beneath her staggered steps as the tranquilliser took effect.

She glanced down at Lupus before her vision faded. Her limbers grew heavier, her head lightened, and her eyelids closed.

Then Clara fell backwards.

A second later, Lupus’s heart dropped. His eyes darted to the otter, recording the event unfolding. “Tyler!” Lupus shouted across the street. “Get out of there—NOW!”

Tyler’s ears perked, his body snapped to attention. He turned and sprinted toward the library entrance. Behind him, an earth-splitting thunderclap erupted that made every pane of glass shiver in its frame.

Clara’s figure struck the ground with a force that shook the foundations of the road. The golden retriever’s fall flattened everything beneath her: a line of cars, street lamps, the foliage and metal railings that ringed the courtyard.

Dust in a thick plume rose and concealed everything. Lupus tried to squint through the haze as he steadied himself against a fallen traffic pole.

The dust settled and gave way to the spectacle of Clara’s massive form lying motionless. From north to south, her body filled the square.

Although Tyler was still recording on his phone camera, his camera hand trembled. When he spoke, his voice seemed uncertain. “Is she going to be alright?”

Lupus did not answer right away. He focused his mind on assessing the predicament. He looked at Clara and listened to the howling emergency vehicle alarms from down the street. They were almost here.

In moments like this, emotion was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Fear, anger—they will come after the situation has resolved. He had to ease Tyler and get him to safety, and then…

“Lupy? Is she–?” Tyler shouted from the staircase.

As the wailing sirens from down the street grew louder, Lupus exhaled to ground himself. “Tyler, please go back inside,” Lupus instructed and looked toward the sirens.
“But, the story?”

Red and blue light shimmered from the block corner. Lupus sped to meet the hesitant otter at the stairwell, barking, “Move, now!”

That word snapped Tyler into ending the recording.

Often, Lupus valued the otter’s determination to chronicle. Not this time. He wasn’t angry or disappointed in his prodigy, but adamant for Tyler’s safety in the wake of the approaching sirens. As Tyler stumbled up the library stairwell, Lupus raised both arms wide to provide a living barricade between the street and his friend.
He wished to protect more.

His gaze flicked to the tranquilised woman who occupied the square. She did not ask for this. Whatever size she was, it didn’t warrant what was coming down the road.

Lupus’s fingers balled into two fists. He wanted to protect her too—to scoop her up and carry them to safety like he would Tyler. Yet, the gulf between their sizes made that hope a bitter fantasy.

Clara proved too large.

The sirens grew louder until the flashes of red and blue illuminated the base of Clara’s limp figure.

With his back turned to the library entrance in shame, the wolf sought to shield the one he could protect and walked back inside the building. Seconds later, he heard the screech of tires that announced the authorities’ arrival.

Once he stepped indoors, he noticed the crowd of library attendees had retreated into the distant corners of the room.

Lupus’s eyelids closed. It enabled him to listen to other nearby talks. Each one differed, but the tone remained uniform. Resentment, fuelled by the sight of a damaged apartment, to the exposed Ascendant outside.

A part of him wanted to talk back and challenge their small-minded opinions, but he didn’t—he couldn’t risk it. So, he held his posture, and opened his eyelids to look at Tyler.

Except, Tyler had redirected his attention to peek his head above the window-ledge.

…the window!

Lupus’s ears rocketed up. “Tyler!” he urged in a whisper and placed a palm on his shoulder. “Get down before they see you!”

Tyler looked to meet his eyes. “A good reporter never shies away from a story,” he whispered as flashes of red-blue light illuminated his visage. “I’m going to clear my probation with this.”

“You’ll pass, but not like this,” Lupus suggested.

For a heartbeat, Douglas’s voice replayed in his head. The fox’s sly comments and quips from days long since passed echoed in his mind. His hold on Tyler’s shoulder loosened, while his eyes looked towards the dispersed crowd.

Following that, he peeked through the window. Half a dozen figures, only silhouettes in the red and blue lights, form a perimeter around the woman. Then one looked at their window. At once he pulled Tyler and himself down to avoid detection.

At that instant, when the otter quieted, Tyler’s gaze widened toward a sharp knock from the library entrance. Before he could vocalise his concern, Lupus interjected.

“Stay here, Tyler. I’ll take care of this.”

“What do they want?” Tyler asked under his breath while he tried to glance out the window.

“To ask questions about the Ascendant.” He murmured the remark, pivoting toward the door. “To see if anyone else knew.”

“What for?” He rose, but Lupus kept him down by the shoulder.

Lupus muttered, “Remember, harbouring information about an Ascendant is treason,” this time with a blunt tone.

The wolf’s words sank into Tyler’s head. For a moment, dread replaced the otter’s inquisitive expression. When his maw opened, nothing came out when Lupus stroked his shoulder.

“We should be good when I explain we had no clue an Ascendant was nearby, alright?”

Tyler’s curiosity would have remained if concern hadn’t consumed it. “Wait—”

“Stay here,” the wolf instructed. A comforting smile played on his lips as he tried to console Tyler, yet his expression turned serious.

“Lupus, I mean Lupy, the—”

He insisted, “The story will be delayed,” and withdrew his hand from the otter’s shoulder. “I need to convince them we did not know Clara.”

“That’s not what I meant—!”

The wolf crushed lower to be on par with Tyler’s eyes. “It can wait. Please, let me handle this,” Lupus said, his voice gentler, an anaesthetic for his firm conviction.

Tyler folded with a nod.

Lupus gave Tyler’s shoulder one last squeeze. “It’s going to be alright, I promise,” he cooed to the otter and stood up to walk towards the door.

Despite the wolf’s firm tone, Lupus understood the otter’s determination. His aspiration to be a journalist stemmed from his drive to discover narrative. With his curious nature, combined with a desire to give a voice to the Vastelerians, he often dreamt about being the leading reporter in a pro-Vastelerian story on the six o’clock news. He craved to be behind the story that breaks apart the division between the two groups.

Instead, he denied someone else that very accomplishment. His conviction to ensure Tyler’s safety took precedence, but it did not mean he didn’t disdain his actions. Lupus’s mind raged war with itself—duty against guilt, instinct against compassion. An internal conflict that ceased fired the moment flashes of blue and red bled through the library windows.

When the door opened, two constables awaited: a squirrel and a pigeon. They raised their badges in unison before introducing themselves: Officer Lang, the bushy-tailed one, and Officer Roarke, the pigeon.

Unlike the standard-issue high-vis uniforms he had expected, this pair wore dark, tailored suits with a red tie. He had read and watched news stories about them. The Ministry of Ascendant Control (M.A.C.) established a distinct division in the police to expose any Ascendants and their accomplices.

The two suited officers put their badges away, stepped inside the library, and stopped in front of the librarian’s desk. They started with questions about who he is, and like he did many times before, he repeated his rehearsed answer with faux confidence. Regardless of the officer’s blank expression, Lupus continued without a stumble or a stutter, anything that would have revealed his racing heart.

They guided Lupus outside to stand on the perimeter. Lupus kept his posture straight and sculpted a counterfeit semblance of disgust towards Clara. That deed, though wrong, bought him respite from the officers flanking him. That’s when they asked what his ‘affiliation’ was with Clara.

Thanks to his media training, he recognised their trap question, and he knew how to approach it. Uncovering the truth required examining people’s tone, gaze, body language. Code Lupus understood, also able to manipulate.

Before his maw opened, his narrowed eyes scolded the two officers opposite. “Why involve myself with a…Kaiju?” He challenged in revulsion. Self-disgust that he weaponized to preserve his imitation.

They pressed again. “Sir, do you understand it is treason to conceal knowledge about an Ascendant’s whereabouts?” Officer Lang said as she tilted her head.

“Yes. That is why I want to offer my help,” he replied without batting an eye, altering his tone, or body language.

“You can assist by explaining why you did not evacuate like everyone else,” Roarke interjected.

“I was trying to get my friend inside,” he replied. “He’s a junior reporter who wanted to document it so other citizens understand the dangers these beasts bring.” His stomach roiled when the slur escaped his mouth. Douglas and other zealots tarnished that word to push their anti-Vastelerian doctrine, so it disgraced the wolf’s voice for a moment.

Officer Lang raised a brow; Officer Roarke leaned in closer.

The officers nodded to one another, then towards him. Officer Roarke fished out a pocket notepad from inside their blazer. “Can I get your full name? I need it for the report.” The man insisted and hovered his pen over the paper.

Lupus hesitated, but he knew he had to cooperate. “Lupus Kintsugi,” he said.

The pigeon scribbled it down, while Officer Lang cocked a brow, and asked, “Kintsugi? Like that Japanese art?”

Lupus masked a smile. “Yeah, like that.”

“Unusual name, huh?” Her eyes scrutinised the wolf.

Lupus caught on Officer Lang’s skeptical glare and rushed to interject by adding, “You aren’t the first to say that. I can show you my birth record and parental documentation if you’d like?”

The pigeon waved a winged hand and tucked the notepad back into his blaze. “No need. But, we will be in contact if we have any further questions, Mister Kintsugi.”

“Yes, of course. I would be happy to help.” He agreed, skipping the slurs to spare his stomach and his conscience.

A hard swallow escaped him; he couldn’t tell if the name or his saying ‘beasts’ had attracted more attention. Regardless, his gut tightened at both.

Officer Lang gave a curt nod and reached into her uniform’s breast pocket to produce a small piece of paper. Holding it between two fingers, she extended it to Lupus. “This is my direct line. If you remember anything else, anything at all, call this number.”

Lupus took it, and before he addressed the officer, he looked at the name on the card: Officer Kiera Lang. “I will,” he replied.

Rooke gave him one last stare, conveying a scowl coupled with interrogation. The other officer nodded and closed his notepad.

“You’re free to go, Mister Lupus.”

Nodding, Lupus slipped the note into his pocket, but he didn’t move. He refocused on Clara, feigning disgust before the officers to hide his anxiety. Then, careful not to let his fixation arouse suspicion, he tore his gaze away.

As the wolf turned to leave, Officer Lang called after him once more. “Best of luck with your Ascendant story,” she insisted with a pale fabrication of a smile, and added, “I look forward to seeing it on the news.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Lupus replied with a faint smile, the closest he came to appreciation, but it thinned near his cheekbones. His concern about Clara’s fate hindered it.

Though reluctant, Lupus left the officers and then ascended the staircase. Despite his change in view, the square’s image lingered, fuelled by the cacophony of officers and vehicles. He quickened his pace by a fraction, not too fast to avoid drawing unwanted attention, but fast enough to escape the sounds behind him.
Quiet prevailed on the square once he shut the library portal. It allowed the previous events to sink in, but that was temporary. No sooner did his ears twitch at the familiar sound of Tyler’s voice.

“Lupy?” the otter asked as he walked up to Lupus. “Is everything okay?”

Lupus met Tyler’s eyes with a composed visage and nodded. Though the otter had earned his trust, especially today, he couldn’t shake the instinct to mask whatever bubbled or boiled beneath his calm exterior. A veil that was justified after seeing the group of librarian attendees eavesdrop on their conversation. “Yes, we’re good. I took care of it,” he replied and crossed his arms.

“You did?” Tyler responded, starting in a tone of surprise that later transitioned to one of solace. “That’s great!”

Lupus was silent. He didn’t mirror Tyler’s relief—he remained guarded. That did not deter the otter, but invited him to continue.

“Before we go, can we get more Ascendant footage?” the aquatic mammal asked.

The wolf’s body language broke his silence: perked ears, and a droopy tail. Tyler’s query startled him more than he wanted to admit. Unease coiled in his stomach as he thought about what the film had already caught—if it included him. Yet, he pressed that anxiety down to focus on the otter’s original question.

Lupus understood Tyler’s desire to report every story, though he knew such reporting could not persist within the media sector. The otter would someday understand the consequences tied to telling a story better left unsaid. The wolf learnt that lesson when his article on the Division isolated him from his neighbours. Tyler did not deserve that.

“Lupy?” Tyler queried in a voice laced with both curiosity and concern.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Lupus said to Tyler, whose posture sagged.

“What do you mean?” The otter questioned, careful not to push. “It would be great for us.”

A heavy sigh left the wolf’s lips. “Mister Sinclair already has more than enough anti-Vastelerian propaganda from Douglas,” he muttered under a breath. “We don’t need to add more to it.”

“What if we used it to tell Clara’s side?” he offered with a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. “Clara never tried to cause harm, even when I was between her toes.”

“They scrapped or twisted every pro-Vastelerian piece I pitched,” he exclaimed. Lupus had good reason to be discouraged. For three years he witnessed his articles being altered and weaponized against Vastelerians.

“This occasion will be different,” Tyler offered.

The otter remained defiant, and Lupus refused to dare envision they might have a chance. It never even crossed his mind to believe either Thomas Sinclair nor Douglas would give their stance the time of day. Rather, Lupus worried about Tyler’s optimism being crushed or about himself helping an Ascendant on the six o’clock news.

“How about we discuss it next weekend?” He proposed delaying the otter’s impulsion.

Tyler didn’t back down. His retort was urgent: “I do not want Douglas to have this story. Do you want that fox to twist another story?”

“You know I don’t wish for that,” Lupus scolded.

Lupus’s sharp tone caused Tyler to reel himself back. “I long to spearhead this story,” the otter conveyed, smiling. “Someone else would possess the tale,” he stated, urgency in his inflection.

“Before you do, did you record me?” Lupus did not react as he focused on the answer.

“Yes, I filmed you helping her.”

The wolf’s posture stiffened. A beat passed in silence before his eyelids widened and his finger raised to point at himself. “Me?” he muttered back to the otter.
Tyler realised then that he also had some explaining to do. In Lupus’ view, that footage shouldn’t include him.

“I wanted to help raise awareness of Ascendants. Aid them in understanding they are safe to approach. It would help comfort people.”

“I told you it is treason for someone to be associated with concealing an Ascendant.” Lupus replied and looked down. It was a worried look. “If they release that footage, I could lose my job.”

“But you didn’t conceal them.” While Tyler slouched, he placed a hand on Lupus’s shoulder. “You were trying to help prevent further damage; they’ll know that…”

Tyler met Lupus’s gaze. “Those individuals will change the narrative to make it appear I concealed an Ascendant. That’s what Douglas and Thomas do,” he challenged the otter. “All they need is one frame of me comforting the Ascendant.”

“They wouldn’t—”

“They will,” the wolf interjected, stern. “What they like to print isn’t truth or news; it’s just fictional storytelling with an agenda.”

“Lupy, I won’t let that happen!“ Tyler pleaded again with a cracking voice. “I shall lead the story. That way they can’t twist your words again—”

Lupus cut Tyler’s plea off when he grasped his upper arms. “Stop.” He let out a breath and lifted his head. “Tyler, just… keep it in. At least until we figure out how to frame this, please.”

Tyler’s hand lingered on Lupus’s shoulders before he took it away. “I want to wait, I do,” he admitted, but with less certainty. His eyes moved toward the window, where the faint flashing of police lights still bled into the library. “But I must have this story. I will not let someone else take this opportunity from me, especially not Douglas.”

“He will,” Lupus resigned. “He will twist it, anyway.”

“So… what do we do then? Because I need this,” he pressed and folded his arms. “This piece could help me pass the probation and help me save enough money to get me the hell out of my family’s home—”

“Dude, screwing over a colleague is not the way to pass your trial period,” he affirmed and released his hold of the otter’s paws.

“That’s not what I’m doing! This story will help me secure my job and a place of my own because I have nothing else to fall back on,” he declared and met the wolf’s eyes again, vulnerability laid bare. “I’m not trying to be reckless, but this is my best chance. I can try to trim you out—”

“Please, Tyler,” Lupus whispered, but Tyler’s plea drowned him out.

“I can hop on my family computer tonight and edit the video,” the otter continued, while his hands flailed around to emphasise his point. “I’ll just have to wait until they fall asleep.”

“You can’t tamper with footage. Tyler, please, listen,” Lupus echoed, again unable to outmatch the volume of Tyler’s voice to no avail.

“I’ll make sure no one knows you were there, I promise!” Tyler pleaded as he flapped his arms up and down. “Please, Lupy.”

“No,” he said, his utterance dropping to an almost growling whisper. “You don’t.”

Tyler’s hands froze and retreated into his chest. “But my supervision ends next week,” he whispered with a hint of desperation. “Lupus… I must have this. I have to escape this awful home.”

Lupus only understood Tyler’s position with the probation – he had been there once, back when he joined the company a year and a half ago. Even then, even as Douglas grilled him about every article, he had never considered putting someone else at risk to pass his evaluation.

The wolf was unaccustomed to the suffocating urge to escape the family home. He wanted the opposite. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t comprehend risking another person’s career for freedom.

“Tyler,” Lupus placed a finger against Tyler’s lips to cut the otter off. He let out a breath, then drew his hand back, but his stern expression remained. “Wait until Saturday. That’s the end,” he added, and his tone left no room for further debate.

A tense silence followed, broken only by the faint chirp of an electronic alert from Lupus’s smartwatch. He raised his arm, and the display illuminated in red with the notification: ‘Unusual biometric fluctuation detected. Recalibrating sensors’.

Irritated, the wolf grunted, switching it off. “Piece of junk’s busted,” he muttered, more to himself than Tyler.

But Tyler’s eyes widened. “Um, Lupus, are you sure it’s damaged?”

Lupus blinked and turned to the otter. “What?” He asked, surprised. “Of course it is. I’ve tried rebooting it, changing the settings, and even factory resetting. Nothing, so yes, it’s not working.”

Tyler didn’t budge. “I don’t think your watch is broken,” he drawled. “I know your watch is working.”

The wolf let out a humourless breath through his nose and shook his head. “That’s ridiculous,” he replied, almost laughing at the absurdity.

Rather than replying straight away, Tyler extended a hand, palm up. “Okay. Then, if you think I am wrong, let me try it on.”

Lupus tilted his head.

“We’ll test my biometrics,” Tyler suggested. “If it does not register me, then yeah, it’s broken. But if it doesn’t…” he trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

However, Lupus refused to permit the sentence to go unfinished. “What if it fails?”

“Nothing. Let’s cross that bridge if I am right,” Tyler sounded calm, but his concerned eyes betrayed him.

Instead of questioning the otter further, he unbuckled the smartwatch strap from his wrist and handed the device over to Tyler. “Alright, give it a whirl.”

Tyler slid the wrist-wear on until it hugged his arm and turned it on. He activated the biometric monitor, and a green light blinked with the notification: ‘Biometric data registered.’

“See,” Tyler stated. “Now, you try it back on,” he added and detached it to offer to Lupus.

Lupus took the watch, not to point it on, but to slip it into his jean pocket. “It’s just being finicky,” he brushed off. “There’s no way my biometrics have changed.”

“I don’t think it is,” Tyler countered and shook his head. “I’ve seen this before,” he added as his concerned gaze turned to worry.

“What do you mean?”

Fear showed in his pupils as his mouth constricted. He was folding his arms tighter. His fingers had clenched his gaze; despite a discernible train of thought, its meaning was opaque until he murmured, “With an Ascendant.”

Lupus’s eyes widened. “You know an Ascendant?” he exhaled out in both disbelief and caution.

“Yes,” he muttered, gazing aside. The otter’s arms squeezed his chest tighter as he breathed out. “I researched what happens to an Ascendant before and after they grow. My point—I think you’re a—”

The wolf stepped back. “Impossible!” He snapped. “You can’t just say that, Tyler. It is only a faulty smartwatch,” he hissed in a strained whisper.

Tyler took a step towards Lupus. “Listen, mate,” he pleaded and tried to offer a hand to take the wolf’s. “I’m telling you, this is how it begins for Ascendants.”
Lupus cocked a brow, skeptical. “What?” and withdrew his hands away from the otter’s awaiting hand.

“Yes, phase one starts with heart rate spikes,” Tyler continued and crossed his arms again. “Then your energy levels increase, leading to a bigger appetite, which leads to intense fatigue.”

“Phase two is physical,” the otter said and reached over to stroke the wolf’s arm as he continued, “You wake up with your clothes tighter or torn.”

Naturally, he didn’t believe him. Lupus opened his mouth to interrupt, but he stopped when he looked down at the attire that was still constricted around his frame.
He focused little on it, but the weight he presumed came from pizza did not vanish. Whenever he moved, the seams of his chequered flannel shirt and jeans stretched too.

“At stage three, you’ll have two choices. You can either acknowledge and embrace the growth. If you ignore it, if you try to suppress it, phase three becomes unstable.”

“That I know. You’ll grow at random, right?”

Tyler’s expression darkened as he insisted that adrenaline, dopamine, serotonin, and cortisol would flood the wolfs brain. “It is why you need to recognise that you are an Ascendant—” he muttered towards the wolf.

“Stop!” he barked, took a quick step back, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Drop this and the Ascendant footage, okay?”

“But, Lupy—”

“Lupus,” he corrected with a blank expression. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore, and neither do I want you to share that footage of me helping the Ascendant, understood?”

Tyler nodded. “Understood. I’ll think of another way to pass my probation.”

“Good,” he stated, and took a step back to distance himself from the conversation. “Now, if you don’t mind, I will leave once we’re cleared.”

“Would you like me to walk with you on the way home?”

“No,” he replied, and inhaled a slow breath. “I’m good. I need to clear my head.”

Once silence settled, his thoughts turned inward, and replayed the past two days. If Tyler was right, he ticked every side effect of Ascendant growth, from heightened energy and fatigue. However, his parents comprised the puzzle’s last component, the key to confirming or refuting this idea.

He almost believed him. Desperation can ignite hope and a willingness to believe anything. A paradoxical notion that compelled Lupus to grasp his t-shirt and ask himself was, ‘Is this why he couldn’t find them?'

His parents.

'Has my life been a lie?’