Torchlight flickered in the un-settled air of the stormblown island of the Infeliz. Though Luna could be glimpsed between the whirling clouds, she was faint and dim here like a bride behind her wedding veil. The festival air of the tiny fortress almost created its own storm to buffett against the alien winds without, but the heavy air choked it out and blew it to pieces the moment the raucus din left the firelight. Past that line, there was nothing but the storm and the mad warden Crippled Titan keeping its vigilance.
But within the torchlight there was a din and clamour as is rarely heard in such a lonely forsaken place. Though the people who lived there could never be described as happy, they made a show of supplcation and praise to their gods, or joyfully hung their brothers out by their skins to be flayed by the stormwinds. All were willing, most of a single mind, bent on their own mad revel either to prove their dedication or perhaps to turn a blind eye to what might be outside the terrible ring that entrapped them in their island.
And within that smaller ring of torchlight, small and quiet, there was another din and clamour. High and sweet as bird song there rose a singing voice. It broke into the harsh sound of nails being driven into flesh, men being sick with too much drink or food and the racket the wretches called music. Like a sharp blade through brambles it made a path through the inner noise and out to meet the storm. All went still within the ring of light while Hears the Song sang to the spirits there in the center of it all.
Heads turned and ears perked at the song. Here was something new, yet not quite unfamiliar. Within the hearts of some select few of the Infeliz there was a stirring, a shy harmony to the new song, though none dared give it voice and risk spoiling the purity of this new song with their impure sinner's throats. Shy and quiet they gathered, one and all, 'round the Prodigals here in the center of all things to behold what the newcommers wrought. All watched, in wonder save a few. Those few still watched, but darker things lurked in their hearts that ate the wonder like a wolf taking a newborn deer.
Five Garou sat in a ring around blood filled runes contemplating the end of the world. They had each opened their veins to fill the runes, as they knew the god they called required a sacrifice of blood. Power pulsed in the air in time with Zoe's voice. It was an unfocused thing at first. It gathered in the runes scratched into the earth, soaking down into the Mother's bones where it congealed into something real and strong. Raising her hands up Zoe sent the power out against the storm as her spirit song reached a crescendo. At the same time the voice of the other Prodigals rose up as well.
“Servant of Great Fenris! Hear our summons! Bear witness to our coming glory!”
The power rose up out of the earth in a terrible surge. It screamed up into the air, blowing a cloud of dust into the faces of all present with a flash of light. Screaming and frantic it hurled its self against the ring of torchlight and with a chill wind the torches fell dark. Driven by holy purpose the power hurtled on to the storm to push through that ring and find its mark. But there the power was checked. Thunder cracked, lightning flashed, and the summons gnashed its self against the storm. Sweat poured out from Zoe's face as she channeled the energies of the rite.
“It's too much! I can't push through the storm! I need more!”
Gritting their teeth, the Prodigals complied. Claws, steel and silver flashed and fresh blood poured out to power the Rite. Harder Zoe pushed, and the storm without screamed its mockery as it beat back the newly empowered spell again. More lightning, this time the after-flash left the impression of a terrible face laughing down at the gathered Garou. There was no thunder.
Suddenly furious, Rends the Gar stood and held up his bloody Dream Knife. He shook it at the sky and barked his own laugh into the storm.
“Where Great Fenris is called, cain't nobody hold him back! Suck it, you great wind bag!”
Rends the Gar exploded into his war skin with a howl of mocking defiance. With that his knife flashed. He plunged it deep into his own chest and made a horizontal cut. Still he laughed, and now the sound was tinged with a brazen madness that defied gods. He threw down the knife, raised up a claw to flip off the storm, then plunged the claw into his own chest even as his packmates rose in alarm. His laugh cut off into a cough. Still standing he convulsed, arm spasming inside his own chest cavity. Zas'Bul and Carver held him upright before he could fall to his knees. With a terrible wet retching sound Rends finally pulled his claw out. Deathly pale and shaky he held his still beating heart up to Luna in offering, then dropped it into the center of the ritual circle. Static electricity crackled. Hair stood on end for everyone gathered. All went quiet for a terrible moment.
Like a hammer swung by a god the spell punched through the storm. Clouds in all realms shattered, and though the storm still raged around it there remained a perfectly circular hole in the storm which revealed Luna in all her glory.
A fresh wind blew in from the North. There was a smell of early frost, high places crowned with mistletoe, and blood-quenched iron. Still the tiny fort sat quiet and dark. Then there came a howl, sudden and strong. Not some lowly wolf-cry, this howl was a living thing. It told of broken iron, warm meade in a winter gale and braving an icy sea in storm. Louder it rose above the storm, and it sang of foes slain and heroes fallen. It came down in the center of the Prodigals like a physical wind, and there it gathered its self. It took up the blood that had been offered, moulding and shaping its self with the clay of living things. A great wolf stood tall and proud there, mottled in shades of crimson with burning, furious eyes. It bent down and sniffed the fresh heart on the ground once, then took the flesh in its mighty jaws and devoured it. Turning to all those gathered, the Aspect of Fenris let loose another howl. In it there was the joy of a challenge overcome, the hate of an enemy that cannot be beat but must be fought, and the thirst for a new test.
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