The sky had begun to dim by the time I started down the final slope toward the merchant camp.

  Dusk painted the mountains in muted blue and violet, the last light of day catching along ridgelines and melting slowly into shadow. The air had softened compared to the deep North, though it still carried a crisp chill that brushed against my fur. Smoke drifted faintly upward from a struggling campfire below, curling into the darkening sky.

  I walked slowly.

  Deliberately.

  Each step measured.

  The snow here was thinner, crunching lightly beneath my boots. I kept my posture upright but unthreatening, my arms relaxed at my sides. I did not want them to think I was charging or hunting.

  The feline beastkin was the first to turn her head.

  Her ears twitched sharply beneath her hood, golden eyes narrowing as she focused on the ridge. I heard it immediately, the shift in their breathing, the scrape of boots against packed snow, the clatter of something metallic being lifted too quickly.

  Panic.

  Of course.

  No one expected a figure to walk out of the vast northern emptiness at dusk.

  From their perspective, I must have looked impossible. I carried no pack. No bedroll. No visible food or supplies. Only divine-looking armor that shimmered faintly with pale frostlight, and a stature that made even the largest among them look small.

  I was taller than every one of them.

  Broad-shouldered. Fur catching the wind. Cold unaffected by me.

  I raised both hands slowly, palms open, a universal gesture of peace. My movements were calm, controlled. I kept my pace steady as I descended toward them.

  As I drew closer, weapons lifted fully.

  The lizardkin stepped forward, staff raised defensively, its crystal tip glowing faintly with stored mana. The feline crouched slightly, hand hovering near the curved blade at her hip. Several humans had drawn swords; one held a crossbow, its bolt trembling just slightly.

  Their eyes were furrowed.

  Suspicious.

  Afraid.

  Should I use Sovereign Allure?

  The thought surfaced naturally. It was an ability meant to assert dominance, to press my aura outward and bend the will of those weaker in presence. It would calm them through instinct, force their bodies to recognize hierarchy.

  But that was not what I wanted.

  I did not want submission.

  I wanted conversation.

  My walk remained regal by nature, but I softened my aura, pulling it close to my core so it would not suffocate them. I stopped five meters away from the outer ring of wagons, far enough to show restraint.

  A human man stepped forward, voice tight but steady.

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  “Who are you? What do you want from us?”

  The language was familiar. My memories aligned easily.

  “I seek knowledge,” I replied evenly. “I wish to travel southward, to the human kingdoms.”

  Murmurs rippled through the group.

  The humans exchanged uncertain looks. Suspicion lingered in their eyes.

  The feline and the lizard, however, had gone still.

  They were studying me more carefully now. My armor. The faint frost-vein patterns that glowed when I breathed. The texture of my fur. The way the cold seemed to part around me rather than cling.

  There were no white wolves in this age.

  In the Tharvahl Dominion, only a few black dire wolves remained. Wolves themselves had not been seen in centuries beyond rumor.

  I watched recognition dawn slowly in their eyes.

  Not full understanding.

  But myth brushing against reality.

  The wind lifted my fur gently along my shoulders and hips. The firelight reflected faintly against polished plates of silver-white armor. I felt their gazes lingering, not just wary, but stunned.

  One younger human stared openly, eyes wide, clearly overwhelmed by my presence. His gaze flickered awkwardly before he looked away again, flushing slightly.

  A strange feeling tugged at me.

  As a former human boy, I had never stood on this side of such attention.

  It was… unsettling.

  But I kept my expression composed.

  Without sudden movements, I reached to the small leather pouch secured at my waist. Several hands tightened on weapon grips instantly.

  Slowly, I withdrew a handful of gleaming blue metallic scales, remnants from the ice drakes I had slain days before.

  I tossed them gently into the snow between us.

  They landed with a soft clink.

  The firelight caught along their surface, revealing hardened frost-steel patterns and the faint inner shimmer of draconic mana.

  Gasps followed.

  One of the humans crouched carefully and picked one up. His eyes widened.

  “These… these are ice drake scales.”

  “They’re real,” another whispered.

  Shock replaced some of their fear.

  The feline lowered her head first.

  The lizardkin followed.

  Neither spoke.

  They simply bowed.

  Not deeply, but with unmistakable recognition.

  Acknowledgment.

  They had heard the stories.

  A being not born, but created.

  The sovereign who kept the North silent.

  The humans, however, did not bow.

  They did not share the same mythology. They only saw an imposing figure standing in the twilight, radiating quiet power.

  I allowed my voice to soften.

  “Do not fear me,” I said calmly. “Please allow me to join your fire. I have traveled far and desire knowledge of what is happening in the lands beyond. I am but a wanderer seeking direction.”

  The words were not entirely false.

  There was quiet deliberation among them. Low whispers. Careful glances. The merchant leader, a middle-aged man with frost gathering in his beard, studied me for several long seconds.

  Finally, he nodded once.

  “You may approach the fire. Slowly.”

  I inclined my head in gratitude and stepped forward with controlled grace. The warmth of the campfire brushed faintly against my fur, though it did little to me. I sat carefully on a cleared section of snow near the flames, ensuring my posture remained open and relaxed.

  The two beastkin remained standing, still slightly bowed.

  I glanced at them and gestured lightly.

  “You may sit,” I said gently. “I mean no offense. I am not here as a ruler.”

  They hesitated.

  Then, slowly, they relaxed and lowered themselves near the fire once more, though their posture remained respectfully upright.

  The humans continued to watch me with a mixture of awe and caution.

  The crackling of burning wood filled the space between us.

  For the first time since leaving the North, I sat among others.

  Not as a legend.

  Not as a blade.

  But as something closer to a traveler.