Chapter 3 – The Summoning of Fate

The grand summoning hall of House Valtoria was a place of legend.

Its ceilings stretched impossibly high, adorned with murals that shimmered with the glow of enchanted starlight. Ancient heroes and their spirit companions watched from above—figures immortalized in paint and magic, their deeds woven into the very foundation of the kingdom.

Isolde had spent countless hours gazing up at them as a child, dreaming of the day she would stand here, just as they once had.

Now, that day had come.

She stood alone in the center of the vast chamber, her heartbeat a steady rhythm against the heavy silence that surrounded her. The weight of dozens of eyes pressed down on her from the marble balconies above—nobles, scholars, knights, and sorcerers alike, gathered to witness her Spirit Summoning Ceremony.

Failure was not an option.

The air hummed with magic, thick with the unspoken tension that filled the room. The summoning circle—a vast array of golden runes carved into the marble floor—pulsed with quiet power beneath her feet. At its very heart, a single crystal sphere floated in the air, glowing faintly, waiting for the ritual to begin.

Isolde inhaled slowly, controlling her breath.

Her ceremonial robes, woven from the finest enchanted silk, cascaded around her like liquid fire—a deep crimson embroidered with golden thread, marking her as a noble of the Valtoria bloodline.

Everything about today had been orchestrated for perfection. Her attire. Her poise. The precision of the runes.

And yet, her hands trembled.

Not from fear. She would not allow fear.

But the weight of expectation was a heavy burden to bear.

"A Valtoria must summon a spirit of exceptional caliber. Anything less is a disgrace."

Her father's voice echoed in her mind, as sharp and cold as a blade against her skin.

She knew what this ceremony meant—not just for herself, but for House Valtoria.

Her lineage was one of unbroken prestige. Every Valtoria before her had summoned spirits of immense strength—radiant griffins, divine phoenixes, celestial knights. Her grandfather had bonded with a Seraphim of Light, his very presence said to burn away darkness.

Her father…

Her father had summoned a dragon.

She had lived beneath that shadow her entire life.

Her father, Lord Aldric Valtoria, stood at the edge of the summoning hall now, arms crossed, his piercing blue gaze locked onto her with unflinching intensity. His expression was unreadable, but Isolde knew what lay beneath it.

Judgment. Expectation. The silent warning of what would happen if she failed.

Beside him stood the Archmage of the Capital, an elder wrapped in robes of deep sapphire, his presence a testament to the significance of today's ritual.

Failure was not an option.

If she could not summon a spirit of equal or greater strength than those who came before her, she would be nothing more than a disappointment.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her robe.

"No."

She refused to be a failure.

She had trained for this moment her entire life. Every lesson, every sleepless night spent studying runes and incantations, every moment spent honing her magic—it was all for this.

Her mother had died when she was young, leaving only her father and his relentless demands. She had been taught from the start that perfection was expected—that she could not afford to be anything less.

She would prove she was worthy of the Valtoria name.

Isolde stepped forward.

A hush fell over the chamber, the murmurs of the gathered nobles fading into silence.

Her pulse thrummed in her ears.

She knelt before the summoning circle, placing both hands over the runes. The ancient symbols flickered to life beneath her fingertips, responding to the touch of her mana.

The floating crystal sphere pulsed.

A shiver ran through her veins as she felt the magic awaken, stirring something beyond the veil.

The world seemed to hold its breath.

She closed her eyes.

And began the summoning.

The first thing Skadi felt was the pull.

It was sudden, like an invisible hook sinking into her very core, dragging her forward with an irresistible force.

Her claws scraped against the frozen stone of the mountain peak where she had been sitting, bored, just moments before. She growled in irritation, her muscles tensing as she tried to resist—but it was useless.

The pull deepened, sharpened, coiling around her like chains she could not break.

She had never felt anything like it before.

Her body blurred, the snowy world around her distorting, stretching into something unnatural. It was like being yanked through water, a tide stronger than even her immense strength, pulling her from the only world she had ever known.

Her ears flicked back as the familiar howling wind of the tundra faded.

Something shifted—reality itself bent.

And suddenly, she was falling.

But not into snow.

Not into anything she recognized.

The cold was gone. The air was different. The very atmosphere hummed with magic.

Then—light.

Blinding, golden, swallowing everything.

And then—

She landed.

For a moment, all was still.

The summoning circle flared with a radiant glow, its golden runes pulsing in time with Isolde's racing heartbeat. The magic in the air was so thick it made her skin tingle, pressing down on her like an invisible force.

Then—

A presence descended upon the chamber.

The light exploded outward, forcing many of the onlookers to shield their eyes. A powerful gust of wind surged through the hall, rattling the mana-lamps and making the tapestries ripple like waves.

And in the center of the summoning circle—

A creature stood.

A wolf, but unlike anything Isolde had ever seen.

Towering, regal, otherworldly.

Her fur was the color of purest snow, shimmering faintly with an ethereal glow. Her eyes—a piercing, glacial blue—seemed to hold within them the vastness of the frozen wilds themselves. The air around her crackled with frost, thin wisps of icy mist curling from her paws as if she carried the essence of winter wherever she stepped.

The nobles gasped.

Even Isolde found herself momentarily breathless.

Then—

A voice cried out from the balcony above.

"The Empress-Class Fenrir—!"

Murmurs rippled through the chamber, growing louder with every passing second.

"Impossible—"

"An Empress-Class? Summoned by a mere child?"

"The Valtoria heir actually—"

Isolde barely registered the noise.

Her heart was pounding.

She had done it.

She had actually done it.

Not just any spirit. Not just some lesser beast.

A Fenrir. And not just any Fenrir—an Empress-Class.

The sheer power radiating from the creature before her was enough to make even seasoned summoners take a step back. It was overwhelming.

Her father—who had remained so stoic throughout the ceremony—was watching intently now. His eyes, usually so cold and unreadable, gleamed with something new.

Approval.

For the first time in her life, Isolde had done something worthy of recognition.

She inhaled sharply, her fingers trembling slightly. The realization was sinking in.

This Fenrir was hers.

Her summoned spirit.

Her bonded companion.

She had done what was expected of her. She had exceeded expectations.

She had—

Something moved.

Before Isolde could react, the massive white beast in the circle suddenly bolted forward.

A blur of motion—faster than she thought possible.

A rush of icy wind slammed into her, stealing the breath from her lungs. She barely had time to flinch before a heavy weight crashed into her.

Warm.

Soft.

Fur.

Isolde staggered, eyes wide.

The Fenrir had lunged at her—but not to attack.

She had embraced her.

Paws nearly as large as Isolde's torso wrapped around her, pulling her into a tight, crushing hug.

A stunned silence fell over the chamber.

The nobles, the scholars, the esteemed summoners—everyone froze.

Isolde, heir to one of the most powerful noble families in the kingdom, had just been… hugged.

By a mythical Empress-Class spirit beast.

She didn't know how to react.

The Fenrir pressed closer, her massive head resting against Isolde's shoulder. Her thick, luxurious fur brushed against Isolde's cheek, and despite the frigid aura that surrounded her, she was… warm.

The beast nuzzled her.

A soft whine, gentle yet oddly longing, escaped her throat.

It was so… affectionate.

"…W-What…"

It was the first thing Isolde managed to whisper, but her voice barely rose above the stunned silence.

This was not what she had expected.

She had anticipated a fierce, noble creature—one that would bow before her, recognizing her as its master. A beast that would stand at her side, a symbol of strength and prestige.

Not… this.

Not a giant mythical wolf crushing her in a hug.

And yet…

For the first time in her life, in the presence of so many important figures… Isolde didn't care about appearances.

Because, somehow, in this moment—wrapped in the warmth of her new companion's embrace—

She felt something she hadn't felt in a long, long time.

Safe.

The moment she laid eyes on her, Skadi knew.

It was unlike anything she had ever felt before—a pull stronger than instinct, deeper than reason.

The girl before her, standing in the middle of the summoning circle, was small, fragile-looking, yet something about her burned.

The rich red of her robes, the intricate golden embroidery catching the light, the poised yet tense way she held herself—everything about her stood out.

But it was her eyes that truly captured Skadi's attention.

Deep blue, like embers burning at the edges, like flames hidden behind a mask of control. Strong. Determined. Distant.

And hers.

Something shifted inside Skadi, something instinctual and overwhelming.

This girl—her summoner—was important.

No, more than important. Vital. Hers. Mate.

The word formed in her mind, unbidden, raw and absolute.

Before she even thought, before she even questioned—she moved.

Her powerful limbs tensed, claws scraping against the marble as she launched forward, closing the distance in an instant.

The girl barely had time to react before Skadi slammed into her, wrapping her massive paws around her and pulling her close.

Warm.

So warm.

The scent of magic and fire clung to her, intoxicating. Skadi buried her muzzle against her shoulder, pressing closer, letting out a soft, pleased growl as she tightened her hold.

This was right.

This was where she was meant to be.

Her tail swished in satisfaction, her large body enveloping the girl, shielding her from everything else.

Nothing else mattered.

Nothing but her.

This was not how she had expected her summoning to go.

Isolde had anticipated many things—perhaps a beast that stood tall and regal, bowing its head in acknowledgment of her command. Maybe a display of strength or loyalty, some sign that she had succeeded in summoning a spirit of great renown.

She had not expected to be tackled and hugged by a mythical, ice-coated wolf the size of a warhorse.

A noble clearing their throat broke the silence. The murmurs had begun again.

Isolde swallowed.

The pressure against her body was immense. The Fenrir's strength was undeniable—if she had wanted to, she could have crushed Isolde with ease.

But she didn't.

The warmth pressed against her, the protective, almost desperate way the beast held her—it was more affectionate than anything else.

But why?

Summoned spirits formed contracts with their masters, but their relationships were rarely… this.

Slowly, carefully, Isolde lifted a hand.

The Fenrir's ears twitched at the movement.

With deliberate caution, Isolde placed her palm against the beast's head.

Soft.

Her fur was like winter's first snowfall, cold to the touch, yet comforting in its crispness. Beautiful.

"Easy," Isolde murmured. "I'm not going anywhere."

The Fenrir let out a low rumble, a sound that was almost pleased.

Then, with great reluctance, she loosened her grip—just slightly.

Isolde exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

This was good. This was progress.

But there was still one step left.

The contract.

Isolde took a steadying breath before speaking, her voice steady and composed, despite the warmth still lingering against her skin.

"I am Isolde Valtoria," she said, her words carrying the weight of ritual. "And I ask for your name."

The Fenrir stilled.

Her ears flicked, her sharp blue eyes glowing with something feral and intelligent as she pulled back just enough to meet Isolde's gaze.

Then, a voice—rough, untamed, yet undeniably hers.

"…Skadi."

The name came unbidden, as if pulled from the depths of her soul.

Magic crackled between them, an invisible thread tightening, binding them together. The summoning circle flared to life, the golden runes burning brightly as the contract took hold.

Then—a surge of magic.

A shift.

Skadi's body changed.

Her fur shimmered, melting away into light, her enormous form contracting, reshaping.

When the glow faded—

A girl stood in the center of the summoning circle.

Not a beast.

Not a wolf.

But something in between.

She was taller than Isolde, her form lean and powerful—toned muscle beneath smooth, pale skin.

Her long, wild silver hair cascaded down her back in a tangle of untamed beauty, strands catching the light like strands of frosted silk.

But it was her eyes that remained the same—piercing blue, glacial and sharp, her pupils slit like a predator's.

Wolf ears twitched atop her head.

A tail, long and dusted with icy mist, swayed behind her.

And—

Isolde's brain halted.

No clothes.

A very naked Skadi blinked down at her, tilting her head slightly, looking utterly unbothered by her complete lack of attire.

A flicker of heat burned at Isolde's ears before she forced herself to regain control.

This was not the time to react.

This was a contract ritual, an ancient bond between summoner and spirit—nothing more.

Nothing more.

Just as she was about to say something—

Skadi moved.

Rushed forward.

Before Isolde could react, arms wrapped around her again, pulling her close.

Warm.

Strong.

Skadi buried her face against Isolde's shoulder, pressing even closer than before, as if determined to absorb her warmth, to never let go.

And then, in a voice raw with instinctual certainty, she whispered—

"Mine."

The contract was complete.