THREE EYED WOLF
In the hollow folds of storms where thought dissolves and shadow breathes, lore speaks of a creature whose gaze divides reality: three eyes, each a silence born of different truth.
Those who brush the veil whisper that its third eye never closes—not out of vigilance, but because it does not know slumber. It sees even when not looking, glowing or not, present in absence.
Of the three orbs: sometimes two are seen, sometimes one, rarely all three. Fear surrounds their alignment; speculation outnumbers certainty. They gleam, but not always in tandem—yet three there are, and three define it.
Some say the eyes are masks—forms taken in shadow: beast, spirit, man. Others argue they are doors: to the here, the hereafter, and the unfathomable beyond.
No explanation is ever given. It offers nothing, just as fire does not explain ash, nor lightning its flash. Inquiry is beneath it. Consequence rarely reveals…