The wind drifted slowly through the endless rows of wheat, making the golden stalks whisper like ancient voices. It felt as if the field itself was breathing.

Loona wrapped her arms around her body as the memory of her own death washed over her again.

Her voice still trembled as she told the man everything she’d lived.

“I… I had just been impaled. The blades… the cuts… everything burned.”
Her gaze wandered across the golden horizon.
“But when I opened my eyes… I was here. In the cornfield. The wind felt like it was calling me. The pain faded… as if the field was healing me. I saw the corn sway toward the sun. So I followed.”

She closed her eyes, hearing once more the soft rustle around her.

“I passed through an orchard… picked grapes… kept walking. The sun set, rose again… I think I walked for two days. And now… here I am.”

Silence fell between them—heavy and absolute.

The man—tall, thin, long black hair, wearing a shirt worn by time—let out a sigh drenched in melancholy. The firelight carved deep shadows across his tired face.

“It’s simple, child…” he murmured with gentle sadness. “You died. This place is the Path Beyond Life. If you keep walking… you’ll be carried to the sky. Or to the depths.”

He stirred the fire with a stick, avoiding her gaze.

“But I…” his voice flickered, “…I don’t have the courage to follow. So I stay here. In the wheat. Waiting… until I’m ready.”

Loona stepped forward. The wheat parted around her legs like living fingers.

“Don’t worry,” she said softly but firmly. “I’ll keep walking… but not alone. You helped me when I was lost. You explained everything. You steadied my heart. So come with me.”

The man lifted his eyes—fragile hope glimmering beneath layers of guilt.

“I can’t, young one. Not yet. I need a few more years.” He offered a small, true smile. “But I promise… one day I’ll face it. For now, go. The Path is waiting.”

Loona breathed in deeply, the warm scent of wheat filling her chest.

She nodded.

Then she turned and walked on.

The wheat stretched as far as sight could reach—a golden ocean, alive, almost aware.

The full moon bathed the night in pale silver, and the stars glittered like watchful eyes. Small spirit-fireflies drifted between the stalks, leaving trails of blue light, as though the field itself guided her steps.

Peace draped the place like a sacred blanket.

But beneath it flowed a deep longing… and an old, heavy sorrow.

Loona brushed away the tears shining under the moon.

“I didn’t want to die…” her voice broke, yet she kept moving. “But since it happened… I won’t give up.”

The wind rose around her, as if approving her oath.

“Father…” she whispered to the sky, “I never reached the North…”

Her words dissolved among the stalks.

But her steps didn’t stop.

And the Path Beyond Life opened before her like an inevitable—holy—destiny.

Warm tears slid down Loona’s cheeks. She pressed her hands to her chest, crushed beneath the same grief that had followed her since her final breath.

“P-papa… I failed…” she sobbed, her voice cracking like shattered ice.

And then the memory surged—so vivid it almost breathed.

Her father sat on the old wooden chair, the scent of smoke and herbs heavy in the air. His kind eyes shone with pride as they rested on her sky-blue hair.

“My little wolf…” he said with a broad smile, “your hair is just like the ancient legends of Luno. A wolf-god who lived long, long ago. They say he came from the North.”

Loona, still a child curled on the rug, tightened her small fists with excitement.

“I wanna go there, Papa!”

His deep, booming laugh filled the room.

“Hyahahahaha! And you will, little wolf. One day, you will.”

She tilted her head, curious.

“Is there something else up there, Papa?”

He stared into the fire, thoughtful.

“Before I met your mother…” he said slowly, “…I had a daughter in the North. Your sister. She must be thirty-two by now.”

Loona’s eyes widened.

“Really?! Then… I’ll meet her someday!”

“You will, my little one. One day.”

The memory faded like smoke, leaving only ache in its wake.

“Father…” Loona wept as she walked, barely holding herself up, “I’m sorry. I didn’t see how precious life was… until it was gone.”

The wheat stilled.
The wind quieted.
The night itself bowed its head in mourning.

And then—strangeness.

The stars began to move.

First slowly… then circling… twisting… until they aligned, forming the vast shape of a celestial fox across the sky. Its drifting tail glowed, lighting the path below.

And rising from the golden stalks, the same white wolf Loona had seen before dying stepped forward. Majestic. Silent. A creature of breath and myth.

His ancient eyes locked with hers.

For a heartbeat, the world held still.

Then the pain struck. Fierce. Flooding. Unstoppable.

Loona collapsed, gasping. Her vision blurred. Light and darkness tore at the edges of the world.

And then—silence.

Then—wind.

Air brushed her skin.
Cold, alive.
Birdsong trembled at the edge of hearing.
The rasp of crickets.
The distant call of wolves.

When she opened her eyes, she was surrounded.

Circles of wolves watched her—curious, cautious, alert.
And at her side, steadying her trembling body, stood the white wolf.
His torn clothing revealed the truth—

This was the same place where Loona had died.

Yet now… she lived.

“I-I…” Loona tried to speak, but her voice crumbled. Her breathing was shallow, desperate. Her body felt strange, heavy, unfamiliar. “I’m alive…? These sounds…? He helped me…?”

She tried to stand—failed—and crashed back down, pain twisting through her.

The white wolf immediately leaned against her, his head brushing her shoulder in a gesture of protection.

Loona blinked, trying to focus.

“M-my memories… they’re tangled… but… I remember so much…” she whispered. “I can’t stand yet…”

When her gaze finally lifted, her heart lurched.

“W-why…” her voice was barely air, “why are there so many wolves around me…?”

The wind held its breath.

And the pack’s silence was too deep to be simple surprise.

It was reverence.

And fear.