Chapter 378: Episode 376: Missing Ren

A booming roar of laughter completely shattered the tension.

Torian leaned against the stone wall, clutching his stomach as tears of pure mirth gathered in the corners of his blue eyes. The White Tiger Alpha pointed a massive finger at the dazed wolf pups.

Roxy came up and slapped his hand. “You are mean.”

“But… I…” Torian pointed at himself, the laugh dying on his tongue, and pointed back at the twins in disbelief.

They were the one that rushed for it despite seeing the danger?!

Why was I being scolded?!

“It tickles!” Onyx complained, finally breaking his bewildered silence. He aggressively rubbed his tiny, fuzzy wolf ears, which were twitching frantically.

“I wasn’t scared,” Axel announced immediately, scrambling to his feet and thrusting his small chest out, though his legs were noticeably wobbly. He glared at the door. “I just… slipped on the rug. That’s all.”

Kaelen let out a long, long-suffering sigh that carried the weight of every exasperated father in the history of the Beastworld. The Wolf Alpha stepped forward, reaching down with his hands. With effortless ease, he grabbed both of his sons by the scruffs of their thick winter tunics, lifting them entirely off the floor so they were dangling at eye level.

“Let this be a lesson in boundaries, my sons,” Kaelen rumbled, his icy blue eyes stern but lacking any real anger. “When they say don’t go there, don’t go there. Now, to the washroom. Both of you. You smell like Zarek’s breath.”

As Kaelen marched the grumbling twins down the hall, the heavy, somber atmosphere that had accompanied Syris’s hibernation finally lifted, replaced by the familiar, chaotic rhythm of the pack.

The Beastworld winter outside the Manor was absolutely unforgiving. A massive, howling blizzard had rolled over the jagged peaks of the Iron-Wood mountains, burying the courtyards under several feet of pristine, freezing snow. But inside the grand walls of the Manor, it was a fortress of impenetrable, roaring heat.

The family migrated down to the central living hall. Torian immediately set to work building a colossal fire in the massive stone hearth, stacking thick, resin-heavy logs until the flames roared like a localized dragon.

Caspian, ever the devoted father to his aquatic son, had dragged a massive, hollowed-out wooden tub near the warmth of the fire. The former Merman created a gentle, circulating whirlpool of warm water.

Little Zale sat happily in the center, slapping his pale, webbed hands against the surface and giggling as Caspian conjured tiny, dancing water-dolphins to jump over the toddler’s head.

Roxy settled onto the plush fur rugs piled in front of the hearth, resting her back against the base of the sofa. She had carefully placed Little Fedor in his woven bassinet right beside her, the bright red gemstone safely tucked into the emerald blankets, pulsing with a steady, rhythmic, and incredibly comforting glow.

As she watched Caspian play with Zale, the front doors of the Manor slowly groaned open.

A massive gust of freezing wind and swirling snow invaded the entryway, followed immediately by the towering, snow-covered silhouette of the Dragon King.

Zarek stepped inside, pushing the heavy doors shut against the blizzard. He was completely coated in white frost, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, his jaw tight and drawn.

He had spent the last two hours walking aimlessly through the freezing Northern tree line, letting the brutal cold punish him for his earlier, trauma-driven arrogance in the nursery.

He stood near the archway, looking at his pack gathered around the fire. His golden eyes were heavy with profound, lingering guilt.

Roxy didn’t say a word. She simply lifted her head, her brilliant green eyes meeting his from across the room. She offered him a soft, incredibly gentle, and completely forgiving smile. She raised her hand, patting the empty spot on the fur rug directly beside her.

Zarek’s massive shoulders instantly dropped. The suffocating tension drained from his draconic frame. He quickly shrugged off his frozen outer cloak, leaving it by the door, and crossed the room. He sank heavily onto the rug beside her, the immense, blistering heat of his core immediately wrapping around her like a protective blanket.

Without a word, Roxy leaned sideways, resting her head firmly against his thick bicep. Zarek let out a shuddering sigh, his massive arm coming around to pull her flush against his side.

For a few minutes, it was a picture of perfect, quiet domesticity. And then, Tyara, the teething tiger cub, slammed directly into Zarek’s massive, dragon-hide boots. The cub let out a ferocious, high-pitched growl and immediately sank her razor-sharp teeth into the tough leather, viciously shaking her head in an attempt to conquer the boot.

Zarek looked down at the feral cub attached to his foot, then looked at Torian, raising a single, unimpressed dark eyebrow.

“Your daughter is attempting to dismember me, Tiger,” Zarek rumbled smoothly.

Torian chuckled from his spot near the fire, casually flipping a skewer of roasting venison. “She has excellent taste in prey. Let her chew, Zarek; it builds character.”

The rest of the evening melted away in a haze of roasted meats, warm honey-tea, and the beautiful, messy noise of a massive family. For Roxy, the laughter of the Alphas and the chaotic energy of the children was a balm to her soul.

The Demon King’s threat still loomed in the dark corners of her mind, but she refused to let it steal the warmth of this hearth.

Eventually, the heavy, rich food and the roaring fire did their work. The children began to yawn. Kaelen and Torian took charge, scooping up the exhausted twins and the sleeping tiger cub, hauling them upstairs to the nursery for the night. Caspian followed shortly after, carrying a drowsy, towel-wrapped Zale.

The Manor grew incredibly quiet.

Roxy stood up, gently lifting the sleeping Fedor into her arms. She turned toward the hallway, entirely intending to head toward the master bedroom.

But as she reached the landing, she stopped.

Standing perfectly still at the intersection of the grand corridors was little Iris. The seven-year-old wolf pup was clutching the carved wooden snake toy Torian had made her tightly against her chest. She was looking down the dark, empty western hallway—the wing that housed the Kitsune quarters.

Roxy’s heart gave a heavy, agonizing squeeze. Iris had lost her big brother Drax to the peaks, she had lost Papa Syris to the winter hibernation, and the massive, vibrant, chaotic hole left behind by Ren was suddenly echoing louder than ever in the silence of the stone halls.

Roxy stepped forward, her soft slippers making no sound. She gently rested her free hand on Iris’s small shoulder.

The little girl jumped slightly, looking up with wide, vulnerable violet eyes.

“You miss him, don’t you?” Roxy whispered softly.

Iris swallowed hard, her tiny wolf ears drooping flat against her dark hair. She gave a slow, miserable nod. “The house is too quiet, Mum. It doesn’t feel right without the fireworks and the tricks.”

Roxy knelt down, balancing Fedor securely against her hip. She brushed a stray strand of hair out of Iris’s face, a fiercely loving, fiercely determined matriarchal light igniting in her green eyes.

“Come on,” Roxy murmured, taking Iris’s small, freezing hand in hers. “We are having a sleepover tonight.”

Instead of turning toward the master suite, Roxy led her daughter directly down the western corridor. She pushed open the heavy, intricately carved wooden doors of Ren’s personal sanctuary.

The room had been entirely untouched since the day of his passing. The air inside immediately wrapped around them, smelling overwhelmingly of crushed autumn leaves, sweet wild-berries, and the faint, lingering metallic tang of stardust. It was a beautiful, heartbreaking scent that instantly made the trickster feel as though he was standing right behind them.

The bed in the center of the room was colossal, piled high with rich, crimson silks and thick, white winter furs.

Roxy settled into the center of the massive mattress. She placed Fedor in the center of the pillows, entirely barricaded by the heavy blankets, the red gemstone pulsing warmly against his side. Iris immediately scrambled up onto the mattress, crawling directly under Roxy’s arm and burying her face into Roxy’s side, breathing in the scent of her mother and the lingering scent of her Kitsune father.

“Are you comfortable, my sweet girl?” Roxy asked softly, pulling the crimson silks up to their chins.

Iris nodded against her ribs. “Yes, Mum. Can you… can you tell me a story? A magical one.”

Roxy smiled, her fingers gently stroking Iris’s dark hair. She stared up at the dark, vaulted wooden ceiling, her transmigrated mind reaching back into the fairytales of her own world, weaving them seamlessly into the lore of the Beastworld.

“Once upon a time,” Roxy began, her voice dropping into a soft, melodic, and deeply theatrical whisper, “in a realm far beyond the tallest mountains of the Iron-Wood, the sky was completely, entirely black. There were no stars, and there was no moon. It was a very sad, very lonely sky.”

Iris’s violet eyes fluttered, captivated by the tone.

“But then,” Roxy continued, a faint smile touching her lips, “a very clever, very handsome fox with fur the color of burning fire decided he didn’t like the dark. He was a trickster, you see. He loved to paint, and he loved to make people smile. So, one night, he stole a bucket of glowing, silver stardust from the sleeping gods.”

Roxy traced a slow, imaginary arc through the air with her finger.

“He leaped high into the air, his nine magnificent tails trailing behind him like comets, and he began to paint the sky. He splashed the stardust everywhere, creating billions of glittering stars. And right in the very center, he painted a massive, beautiful silver moon, just so the world would never have to be lonely in the dark again.”

Iris let out a soft, sleepy sigh. The warmth of the room, the steady pulse of her mother’s heart, and the magical story were pulling her rapidly toward the edge of slumber. She snuggled closer, her tiny fingers clutching the fabric of Roxy’s tunic.

“He was a very good fox,” Iris mumbled, her eyes drifting completely shut.

“He was the best fox in the entire universe,” Roxy whispered, a single, hot tear slipping down her cheek and landing silently on the crimson silk.

The room grew incredibly still, filled only by the soft, rhythmic breathing of the sleeping newborn and the young wolf pup. Roxy rested her head back against the pillows, entirely prepared to let the exhaustion claim her as well.

But just as the quiet settled over the sanctuary, Iris’s small voice broke the silence. It was a tiny, fragile whisper, heavy with the innocent, unyielding hope of a child who didn’t fully understand the finality of the stars.

“Mum,” Iris murmured, her violet eyes still closed as she drifted into the dark. “Would Papa Ren ever come back?”

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