18. Big Bad Wolf: Eryx

CHAPTER 18

BIG BAD WOLF

ERYX

T he red eyes that had haunted their approach through the mist now belonged to a face. And what a face it was. Fenrir's visage was a study in contradictions—terrifying yet somehow noble, ancient beyond reckoning yet vibrant with barely contained power. Eryx felt his breath catch in his throat, a mixture of awe and primal fear coursing through him.

The wolf's gaze swept over their little group, lingering on each of them in turn. When those crimson eyes met Eryx's, he felt a jolt, as if Fenrir was looking not just at him but through him, seeing layers of his being that even Eryx himself wasn't fully aware of.

Just as the tension was becoming unbearable, Thor stepped forward. His voice, when he spoke, held none of its usual booming bravado. Instead, it was low, almost respectful. "Enough with the dramatics, Fenrir. And the fog, if you please. We've come to talk, not to be terrorized."

For a moment, Eryx thought the wolf might refuse. But then, like a curtain being drawn back, the fog simply vanished. One second it was there, pressing in on them from all sides, and the next it was gone, revealing their surroundings in stark clarity.

They stood on a rocky outcropping, the ground beneath their feet pitted and scarred as if by countless battles. And there, chained to a boulder that looked like it had been torn from the very heart of a mountain, was Fenrir in all his terrifying glory.

The wolf was enormous and it didn't begin to cover it. Colossal, maybe. Titanic. Each of his paws was easily the size of a car, his body a mountain of muscle and midnight-black fur. The chains that bound him looked comically inadequate for the task, and yet they held, glowing faintly with what Eryx assumed was some seriously heavy-duty divine magic.

And yet, despite the wolf's obvious power and the menace that radiated from him like heat from a furnace, Eryx couldn't help but feel a twinge of... was that sympathy?

He is magnificent, Apollo's voice murmured in his mind, a note of admiration coloring the god's thoughts. Terrible, yes, but magnificent nonetheless.

"You're right," Eryx found himself saying aloud, the words slipping out before he could stop them. "He is kind of magnificent. In a terrifying, probably-going-to-eat-us kind of way."

The silence that followed his statement was deafening. Eryx felt heat creep up his neck as he realized everyone—Alex, Zac, Thor, and yes, the giant world-ending wolf—was staring at him.

And then, to his utter shock, Fenrir laughed. It was a sound like boulders grinding together, echoing off the rocky landscape and reverberating through Eryx's very bones. "I like this one," the wolf rumbled, amusement clear in his voice despite its otherworldly timbre. "He has spirit. And terrible judgment, but spirit nonetheless."

Eryx felt Alex tense beside him, clearly not appreciating Fenrir's idea of a joke. But before his partner could say something that might get them all eaten, Thor spoke up.

"We've come seeking your aid, Fenrir," the thunder god said, his tone carefully neutral. "We need?—"

"What you need," Fenrir interrupted, his massive head swinging around to fix Thor with a piercing stare, "is irrelevant to me, Odinson. The question is, why should I care? Why should I, bound here for eons by your kind, offer any assistance at all?"

The wolf's voice echoed across the barren landscape, each word carrying the weight of centuries of anger and resentment. Eryx felt a shiver run down his spine. This was not going well.

Thor, to his credit, didn't back down. "Because it concerns Loki," he said, the name hanging in the air between them like a live wire.

"Speak plainly, Thunderer," Fenrir growled. "What exactly do you want from me?"

Thor took a deep breath, and Eryx realized with a start that the god was nervous. It was such a human gesture, so at odds with the larger-than-life persona Thor usually projected, that for a moment Eryx forgot to be terrified.

"We need your blood," Thor said simply. "A sample, freely given, to perform a ritual that will allow us to track Loki's movements."

The change in Fenrir was immediate and alarming. The wolf surged to his feet, the ground trembling beneath them as if caught in the throes of an earthquake. Chains groaned and strained, magic flaring bright enough to leave spots dancing in Eryx's vision.

Fenrir's massive muzzle curled back, revealing rows of teeth that looked like they could shred steel as easily as tissue paper. A growl rumbled from deep within the wolf's chest, a sound so primal and terrifying that Eryx felt it in his bones.

"Why," Fenrir snarled, each word dripping with centuries of pent-up rage, "would I give my blood to you, Odinson? To aid the very pantheon that has kept me chained here, alone and forgotten?"

Thor, to his credit, stood his ground. Eryx had to admire the thunder god's courage, even if he privately thought it bordered on insanity. Standing before an enraged Fenrir was like facing down an avalanche armed with nothing but a snow shovel.

"We need it to find Odin," Thor said, his voice steady despite the tension evident in the set of his shoulders. "To bring him back and restore balance to the realms."

For a moment, silence reigned. Then Fenrir threw back his head and laughed. It was a chilling sound, devoid of any real mirth, filled instead with a bitter, mocking edge that made Eryx's skin crawl.

"Restore balance?" Fenrir's voice dripped sarcasm. "Oh, this is rich. The mighty Thor, come begging to the beast he helped imprison, all to save dear old dad." The wolf's burning gaze swept over their group, lingering on each of them in turn. When those ancient eyes met Eryx's, he felt a jolt of something. Not quite fear, but a recognition of power so vast it defied comprehension.

"You're out of luck, little godlings," Fenrir continued, settling back on his haunches with a casualness that did nothing to diminish his terrifying presence. "I don't give a damn about Odin or his fate. In case you've forgotten, he's the one who put me here. Chained me to this rock for crimes I had yet to commit."

Thor's grip on Mjolnir tightened, lightning crackling along the hammer's surface. "It was necessary," he began, but Fenrir cut him off with a snarl that shook the very air around them.

"Necessary?" the wolf roared. "Was it necessary to separate me from my children? To bind me with magic that burns like acid, day and night, for millennia? Tell me, Thunderer, how is that justice?"

Eryx watched as Thor and Fenrir fell into an argument that seemed both ancient and painfully familiar. It was clear they'd had variations of this fight before, probably countless times over the centuries. They were talking in circles, neither willing to give ground, both too caught up in old grievances to see the bigger picture.

Taking a deep breath, Eryx stepped forward. Immediately, he felt Alex's hand on his arm, his partner's grip tight with concern.

"What are you doing?" Alex hissed, his voice low and urgent. "In case you haven't noticed, we're dealing with a pissed-off wolf the size of a small mountain. This isn't the time to play peacemaker."

Eryx turned to Alex, meeting his worried gaze with a steady one of his own. "We're wasting time," he said, surprised by the calm in his own voice. "They could argue like this for another century and get nowhere."

Alex's expression was a complex mix of emotions—fear, frustration, and something that looked a lot like pride. For a moment, Eryx thought he might argue. But then Alex's shoulders slumped slightly, his grip on Eryx's arm loosening.

"Be careful," Alex said, his voice gruff with poorly concealed concern.

Eryx managed a small smile, warmth blooming in his chest despite the gravity of the situation. "No promises," he said, "but I'll do my best."

With that, he turned back to the ongoing argument between Thor and Fenrir. The air crackled with tension, both literal and metaphorical. Eryx took a deep breath, centering himself as he stepped forward, physically inserting himself between the thunder god and the colossal wolf.

Fenrir's burning gaze fixed on him, curiosity momentarily overriding the rage that had been simmering just beneath the surface. "Speak, little vessel," the wolf rumbled, his voice vibrating through Eryx's very bones. "What could you possibly say that hasn't been said a thousand times before?"

Eryx closed his eyes, suddenly acutely aware of the weight of this moment. This wasn't just about convincing Fenrir or saving Odin. This was about the fate of reality itself. He needed more than just his own words, his own strength.

Apollo, he thought, reaching inward to the divine presence that had become such an integral part of him. I need your guidance. Your strength.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then, like the first rays of dawn breaking through storm clouds, Eryx felt Apollo's essence surge within him. It wasn't like the times when the god spoke to him or offered advice. This was more. A merging, a blending of mortal and divine that sent energy coursing through every fiber of Eryx's being.

When Eryx opened his eyes, he knew they were glowing with divine light. He could feel Apollo's presence not just within him, but as a part of him. Their souls intertwined, mortal and immortal, in a union that defied explanation.

It had been a while since they'd merged like this. The process always left Eryx feeling drained, like he'd run a marathon while simultaneously trying to solve advanced calculus. But right now, with the fate of everything hanging in the balance, the rush of power and clarity was exactly what he needed.

When Eryx spoke, his voice carried the harmonics of two beings in one—the warmth of sunlight and the depth of prophecy layered over his own familiar tones.

"Fenrir," he began, the name carrying weight beyond mere sound, "we stand at a crossroads. Not just Asgard, not just the Nine Realms, but all of existence teeters on the brink of annihilation."

The wolf's ears pricked forward, his massive head tilting slightly as he regarded Eryx with new interest. Even Thor had fallen silent, watching the exchange with a mixture of awe and trepidation.

"Loki's actions threaten to unravel the very fabric of reality," Eryx continued, each word imbued with the gravity of divine truth. "If he succeeds, there will be no Asgard to protect, no Midgard to watch over. No chains to bind you, Fenrir, but also no freedom to yearn for. Only the void, endless and absolute."

Fenrir's eyes narrowed, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "And why should I care?" he demanded, though there was less heat in his voice now. "What is oblivion to one who has known nothing but suffering for eons?"

Eryx took a step closer, feeling the others tense behind him. But he kept his focus on Fenrir, reaching out with both his physical senses and the expanded awareness that came with Apollo's presence.

"Because you are more than your chains," Eryx said softly, his dual-layered voice carrying easily despite its low volume. "More than prophecy, more than the fears and prejudices that have defined you for so long. You are a being of immense power and potential, Fenrir. And potential, by its very nature, requires a future to be realized."

He extended his hand, palm up, towards the massive wolf. It was a gesture of trust, of openness, that had Alex cursing under his breath and Thor shifting uneasily. But Eryx held steady, his gaze locked with Fenrir's.

"We're not asking you to save a world that has wronged you," Eryx continued. "We're asking you to save the possibility of a better world. A future where wrongs can be righted, where chains can be broken. Where you can be more than a prisoner or a prophecy."

For a long moment, silence reigned. Eryx could feel the strain of maintaining the merge with Apollo, sweat beading on his brow as he held his hand out, unwavering. Then, slowly, with a grace that belied his enormous size, Fenrir lowered his head.

The wolf's snout hovered just inches from Eryx's outstretched hand, hot breath ruffling his hair. This close, Eryx could see the individual hairs of Fenrir's coat, each one seeming to contain galaxies of depth and shadow.

"Pretty words," Fenrir rumbled, his voice softer now but no less intense. "But words are wind, little sun-speaker. What assurance can you give that this isn't just another trick? Another way to use me for the gods' ends?"

Eryx felt Apollo's presence surge within him, divine power flowing through his veins like liquid sunlight. His outstretched hand began to glow, soft golden light emanating from his skin.

"No tricks," Eryx said, his dual voice ringing with truth. "No deceptions. Only a promise, bound by powers beyond even the Norns' sight. Help us, Fenrir, and we will work to secure your freedom."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of divine oath. For a heartbeat that seemed to stretch into eternity, nothing moved. Then, with aching slowness, Fenrir pressed his snout against Eryx's glowing palm.

"What would you ask in return for your aid, Fenrir?" Eryx said, his voice his own once more, though still carrying echoes of Apollo's resonance. "What price for your blood, freely given?"

Fenrir's eyes, which had always reminded Eryx of burning coals, now held a different kind of fire. Hope, maybe. Or at least the ghost of it.

"Freedom," the wolf said, his voice filled with longing so profound it made Eryx's heart ache. "Break these chains, undo the magics that bind me. Let me run beneath open skies once more."

The words had barely left Fenrir's mouth when Thor surged forward, lightning crackling around Mjolnir. "Never," the thunder god snarled, all pretense of diplomacy gone. "Have you forgotten the prophecies, Eryx? What Fenrir is destined to do? We cannot?—"

"Enough!" Eryx snapped, rounding on Thor with a ferocity that surprised even himself. The last vestiges of Apollo's presence flared within him, lending strength to his words. "Prophecies are possibilities, Thor, not certainties. And even if they were, are we really going to let the fear of what might happen doom us all to oblivion?"

Thor's grip on Mjolnir tightened, the hammer's surface crackling with barely contained power. "You don't understand," he began, but Eryx cut him off.

"No, you don't understand," Eryx said, his voice low and intense. "We're out of options here. Loki is working with the Order. If we don't stop him, there won't be an Asgard to protect or an Earth to watch over. No prophecies, no destinies. Just nothing. "

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of truth and desperation. Thor's face was a storm of emotions—anger, fear, uncertainty—as he raised Mjolnir, clearly torn between his duty to Asgard and the reality of their situation.

In that moment, Eryx felt something shift within him. The merge with Apollo, which had been slowly fading, suddenly surged back to life. Divine energy coursed through his veins, setting every nerve ending alight with power that both exhilarated and terrified him.

Without conscious thought, Eryx raised his hand. Golden light spilled from his palm, coalescing into a shimmering barrier between Thor and Fenrir. The thunder god's eyes widened in shock, Mjolnir halting mid-swing as if it had struck an immovable object.

"Eryx," Alex's voice came from behind him, a mixture of awe and concern. "What the fuck are you doing?"

But Eryx barely heard him. His attention was fixed on Fenrir, the wolf's burning gaze meeting his own. And then, with a clarity that took his breath away, Eryx saw .

Images, memories, emotions—they flooded into him in a torrent of sensation and sound. He saw Fenrir as a pup, playful and curious, exploring the halls of Asgard with wonder in his eyes. Felt the wolf's confusion and hurt as fear began to replace affection in the gazes of those around him. Experienced the crushing weight of prophecy, of being told that his very existence was a threat to everything.

And then came the chains. The isolation. Centuries upon centuries of loneliness and rage, punctuated only by occasional visits from those who saw him as nothing more than a monster to be contained.

Through it all, Eryx felt Fenrir's unbreakable spirit. The spark of hope that refused to die, even in the darkest moments. The longing for a chance—just one chance—to prove that he was more than the sum of others' fears.

With a gasp, Eryx broke the connection. He stumbled slightly, the intensity of the experience leaving him dizzy and disoriented. But as he blinked away the afterimages of Fenrir's memories, he felt a certainty settle over him like a mantle.

"He's telling the truth," Eryx said, his voice hoarse but steady. He turned to face the others, seeing the mixture of confusion and wariness on their faces. "I saw everything. His memories, his thoughts. Fenrir isn't the monster we've been led to believe."

Thor scoffed, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "You cannot trust the thoughts of a being prophesied to bring about Ragnarok, Eryx. The risk is too great."

"Is it?" Eryx challenged, feeling Apollo's presence bolstering his courage. "Greater than the risk of doing nothing?"

He took a deep breath, looking each of them in the eye—Thor, Alex, Zac, Brynhildr. "I know it's a lot to ask. I know the stakes are impossibly high. But I'm telling you, Fenrir can be trusted. And if I'm wrong,f he breaks that trust then the blame is on me. I'll bear the consequences, whatever they may be."

Silence fell over the group, thick with tension and unspoken fears. Eryx could practically see the gears turning in their heads, weighing the potential catastrophe of freeing Fenrir against the very real, very immediate threat of Loki's schemes.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Thor turned to Brynhildr. The Valkyrie's face was unreadable, but she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

With a sound that was part sigh and part growl, Thor raised Mjolnir once more. "I hope," he said, his voice heavy with the weight of millennia, "that my father does not hate me for this."

Before Eryx could fully process what was happening, Thor brought Mjolnir down on Fenrir's chains. The sound was deafening, a crack of thunder that seemed to shake the very foundations of reality. Blinding light erupted from the point of impact, forcing Eryx to shield his eyes.

When the light faded and the ringing in his ears subsided, Eryx looked up to see the impossible. Fenrir's chains, which had held fast for eons, lay shattered on the ground. The wolf stood frozen, as if he couldn't quite believe what had just happened.

"Thank you," Eryx breathed, the words barely above a whisper. He met Thor's gaze, saw the conflict still raging behind those stormy eyes. "I know what this means, what you're risking. Thank you."

Thor merely grunted in response, his grip on Mjolnir still white-knuckled. But he made no move to restrain Fenrir again, which Eryx took as a good sign.

Slowly, carefully, Eryx turned back to Fenrir. The wolf's eyes were wide, a mixture of disbelief and something that looked a lot like hope shining in their depths.

"You're free," Eryx said softly, the words carrying the weight of an oath. "Free to make your own choices, to write your own destiny."

For a moment, Fenrir didn't move. Then, with a sound that was part growl and part sob, the massive wolf began to glow. It started as a faint shimmer around his edges, quickly intensifying into a brilliant emerald light that forced Eryx to squint against its brightness.

Behind him, he heard the others react with alarm. The scrape of weapons being drawn, the crackle of magic being summoned. But Eryx held up a hand, silently urging them to wait.

"It's okay," he said, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart. "Let it happen."

You've done well, young one, Apollo's voice whispered in his mind. Now, let me step back. This moment is yours.

Eryx felt the god's presence recede, leaving him feeling both lighter and somehow bereft. He took a deep breath, centering himself as he watched the transformation unfold before him.

The green light pulsed and swirled, completely obscuring Fenrir from view. It contracted and expanded, as if struggling to contain the raw power within. And then, with a final flash that left spots dancing in Eryx's vision, it began to dissipate.

As the smoky remnants of the light cleared, Eryx found himself staring not at the massive wolf he'd come to know, but at a man. He stood tall and lean, with long dark hair that seemed to contain shadows of the night sky. But it was his eyes that caught and held Eryx's attention—a green so vibrant it put the lushest meadows to shame, filled with a depth of emotion that took his breath away.

Fenrir—for there was no doubt that this was still him, just in a different form—looked down at his hands in wonder, flexing fingers as if he'd never seen them before. Which, Eryx realized with a start, he probably hadn't. At least not in a very, very long time.

The silence that had fallen over the group was profound. Eryx could practically feel the shock radiating off the others. But he found that he wasn't surprised. Somehow, deep in his gut, he'd known this was possible. Had seen the potential for it in those flashes of Fenrir's memories.

Slowly, carefully, Eryx raised his hand. An offer, an invitation, a promise. Fenrir's gaze snapped to him, those impossibly green eyes widening slightly. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

And then Fenrir reached out, his own hand extending towards Eryx's. The moment stretched, filled with possibility and the weight of choices made and unmade.

Their fingers were mere inches apart when the world exploded.