The morning light spilled gently through the high windows, washing the room in soft gold. I blinked awake slowly, the warmth of Apolloh’s arm still draped around me, his breath steady against the curve of my neck. At the foot of the bed, Kailaa and Elias were still asleep, curled up like little bundles of fur and fabric, one of Elias’s feet sticking halfway out from the blanket.

  For a moment, I didn’t move. I just breathed.

  It felt like the eye of a storm—still and quiet, but temporary. The kind of morning where nothing needed to be said out loud, because we all felt it. The shift. The clock ticking down.

  Apolloh stirred beside me. “You awake?”

  “Yeah,” I whispered. “Didn’t want to move.”

  He smiled sleepily and pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder. “We should get moving soon. I know Zia and Jaxe’ll want to meet. Start figuring out our next steps.”

  I nodded and sat up slowly, one hand cradling my stomach. The baby shifted inside me, like they knew things weren’t slowing down anytime soon.

  Down the hall, the fortress had come alive—barely. Quiet footsteps echoed faintly, and the smell of fire-roasted herbs drifted from the kitchen. When we finally dressed and made our way out, Kailaa and Elias trailing us in their too-big cloaks, we found Zia and Jaxe already seated in one of the fortress’s smaller war rooms, a map rolled out across the table.

  Zia looked up, sharp as ever. “Sleep well?”

  “Define well,” I said dryly.

  Jaxe gave a small grunt of acknowledgment. “We’ve got a lead.”

  Apolloh raised a brow. “On what?”

  Zia tapped the map. “The figure. Or at least, its trail. There’ve been tremors in the northern region—old magic shifting, signs that something’s been stirring. It might not be the figure itself, but it’s connected. The timing’s too precise.”

  I looked between them, the tension returning to my spine like a slow draw of a bowstring.

  “So,” I said, voice steady. “We’re not done.”

  Zia’s eyes met mine. “Not even close.”

  I stepped closer to the table, tracing my eyes over the map. It was marked in charcoal—territory lines, river paths, and newer symbols added in red ink. One of them pulsed at the northern edge of the continent, jagged like a scar.

  “What kind of tremors?” I asked, resting both hands on the table’s edge.

  Zia leaned forward, fingers brushing over the marked region. “Localized quakes, unnatural weather shifts… one scout even reported hallucinations. No pattern we’ve seen before, but everything points to magic. Ancient magic.”

  Apolloh crossed his arms. “And you think it’s the figure.”

  “I don’t think,” Zia said. “I know.”

  Jaxe added, “Whatever it is, it’s starting to spread. If we wait too long, it won’t just be tremors.”

  My gaze flicked to Apolloh, then down to the map again. The northern region was harsh—snow-covered ridges, broken cities swallowed by forest and stone, and few allies. It was a dangerous place, even without a possible second awakening of the figure.

  I hesitated, a hand instinctively brushing over the baby bump that now visibly rounded the front of my tunic.

  Zia noticed. Her voice softened, just slightly. “Laika… we don’t have to decide right now. We’re not leaving today.”

  “I know.” I looked at her, then Jaxe. “But we can’t waste time either. If this is connected to the figure, then waiting could cost us more than we can afford.”

  Apolloh stepped closer to my side, his tone low but certain. “We go. But we plan this one right. Supplies. Routes. Safe zones. And no overexertion.”

  I nodded once. “Agreed.”

  Jaxe glanced between us. “Then we start prepping now. Leave within the week, if we can.”

  Kailaa, who had been quietly sitting on a bench against the wall, tilted her head. “Does this mean more sneaking around scary caves?”

  Elias perked up beside her. “Are we going too?”

  I smiled faintly and exchanged a glance with Apolloh. “Not this time. This one might be too dangerous.”

  Kailaa pouted, then brightened. “Can we at least help pack?”

  I ruffled her hair. “Deal.”

  As the pups skipped off—likely to prepare more than we’d ever ask them to—Zia leaned in slightly. “There’s more,” she said under her breath, her expression tight. “But I wanted to wait until we were alone to show you.”

  I straightened. “More what?”

  She slid a folded parchment from beneath the map and handed it to me. “Something was sent here. No signature. No seal. Just… this.”

  I unfolded it slowly.

  Three words.

  “You’re already lateThe words blurred for a second as I stared at them—sharp, deliberate, carved in ink that bled slightly into the parchment. My heartbeat slowed, then thundered, a cold chill creeping down my spine.

  , I read again.

  I passed the note to Apolloh. His jaw tensed the moment he read it, knuckles whitening as he gripped the edges. “When did this arrive?”

  Zia’s eyes were hard. “Two days ago. No one saw who brought it. It was left on the inner gate, tucked in one of the arrow slits. No scent. No trace. It’s like whoever left it knew how to avoid every detection line we’ve set.”

  “That shouldn’t be possible,” Jaxe muttered.

  “Exactly,” Zia said. “Which means whoever—or whatever—it is, it’s already closer than we thought.”

  Apolloh handed the parchment back to me and looked to the window. “It knows we’re moving.”

  “And it wants us to feel behind. Cornered,” I added. “Like we’ll never catch up.”

  Zia nodded. “Which makes me think… maybe we’re not supposed to catch up. Maybe we’re meant to follow—to where it wants us.”

  There was a heavy silence after that, all of us staring at the map, the red-marked northern region like a gaping mouth waiting to swallow us whole.

  Jaxe finally broke it. “So what’s the plan?”

  Apolloh looked at me, then the others. “We go. But we don’t just follow the trail… we hunt it.”

  I narrowed my eyes at the parchment, fire rising in my chest. “If it thinks we’re already late, then it’s time we show it what happens when we show up anyway.”

  Zia crossed her arms, eyes still locked on the note. “There’s one more thing I haven’t ruled out yet.”

  I looked at her sharply. “Which is?”

  She hesitated, then finally said it. “A traitor.”

  The air shifted—tightened.

  Jaxe’s brows furrowed. “You think someone here leaked our plans?”

  “I’m saying someone knew exactly where to leave that note. How to get past our defenses. How to make it personal.” Her gaze flicked toward Apolloh. “And how to make sure we got the message just late enough to rattle us.”

  Apolloh’s voice was steady, but iron-clad. “If there is a traitor, we’ll find them. But we can’t stop moving.”

  “No,” I agreed, the fire in my chest now a full-blown burn. “If we hesitate now, it’s over. That’s what it wants. Fear. Doubt. Chaos. We don’t give it that.”

  Zia gave me the smallest nod, then turned back to the map. “We’ll need to go in light—fast, but prepared for more than just the figure. If it’s been touching old magic again… we don’t know what we’ll face.”

  “Let’s assume the worst,” Apolloh said. “And hope we’re wrong.”

  Jaxe leaned in, tapping the route north with one blunt fingertip. “We’ll take the valley pass, circle the ridge line. It’ll slow us down by half a day, but it’s safer terrain for Laika.”

  I shot him a grateful glance. “Thank you.”

  He shrugged. “Just don’t fall off a cliff. I’m not climbing down after you.”

  Zia gave him a look, then turned back to us. “We leave at sunrise in three days. No later.”

  Three days. Just enough time to prepare.

  Barely.

  But we would be ready.

  Because the figure might think it has the upper hand.

  But it had never faced a wolf who had something to protect.

  The fortress shifted into motion like a living thing.

  ~~~

  Over the next two days, the air buzzed with the sounds of sharpening blades, the shuffle of boots, the rustle of old maps unrolled and re-rolled across tables. Supplies were packed into canvas bags—dried meats, thick cloaks, enchanted flints, anything that would stand up to the cold and unpredictability of the northern wilds.

  I spent part of the day with the healers, checking in not just for my own sake, but for the baby’s. The elder midwife, a sharp-eyed woman named Maylen, pressed her fingers gently against my stomach and gave me a nod that was both firm and reassuring.

  “You’re strong,” she said. “But don’t forget to rest when the mountain asks for it. Your little one’s strong, too, but they’ll be louder about it if they need something. Listen.”

  I promised her I would, even if I wasn’t always good at slowing down.

  Apolloh coordinated the route with Jaxe, while Zia and I cross-checked any known magical disturbances from the last three months. The red thread stretched tighter with every connection we made—old ruins, forgotten burial grounds, storms that didn’t belong.

  Kailaa and Elias helped where they could, following behind us with eager hands and quick questions. They stacked food supplies, folded blankets, and occasionally sneaked into the main hall pretending to be scouts.

  It helped, somehow, to hear their laughter echoing through the stone halls.

  ~~~

  The fortress dimmed early that evening, as if it knew tomorrow would drain its walls of heat and life for a time.

  Apolloh and I sat on the edge of the bed, watching Kailaa and Elias drift to sleep curled in the blankets again, their little fingers tangled together in the middle of the pallet.

  “They’re going to ask to come with us in the morning,” I whispered.

  “I know,” Apolloh murmured, his arm resting around my shoulders. “And they’re going to be mad when we say no.”

  “They’ll understand. Eventually.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “I think they already do. But that won’t stop them from trying.”

  I chuckled softly. “They’re stubborn. Wonder where they got that from.”

  He smirked. “Probably their parents, Akio and Alexandrita before they passed away.”

  A comfortable silence settled between us. I leaned into his warmth, hand resting over my stomach.

  “There’s something waiting for us out there,” I said after a moment. “Something more than the figure. I can feel it.”

  “I know,” he said. “But it’s waiting for the wrong wolves.”

  I turned to look at him, and he met my eyes without flinching.

  “We’re not walking into a trap,” he said. “We’re walking into a reckoning.”

  ~~~

  The sun had just crested the horizon when the courtyard began to fill with movement.

  Armor gleamed in the pale gold light, cloaks snapped in the wind, and the final bags were hoisted onto backs and shoulders. I stood at the edge of the steps, watching the bustle, letting the cool air settle into my lungs. The world felt stiller somehow. Tense, but focused.

  Kailaa and Elias stood in front of us, their faces drawn tight with the effort of not crying.

  “You have to be careful,” Kailaa said. “Even though you’re big and strong.”

  I knelt—well, squatted carefully—and cupped her face. “I promise. And we’ll be back before the moon cycles twice.”

  Elias hugged Apolloh fiercely. “Make it one cycle instead.”

  Apolloh chuckled, ruffling his hair. “We’ll do our best.”

  As we finally turned to leave, with Zia and Jaxe already waiting at the fortress gates, I could feel the pups watching us until the last stone of the fortress wall disappeared behind us.

  The road ahead stretched wide and cold.

  But so did the fire in our chests.

  And whatever waited at the end of that trail—it wouldn’t be ready for us.

  ———

  The trail wound out of the lowlands and into the foothills, the sharp bite of wind thickening with every step toward the mountains. Snow still clung to the shadowed edges of the path, melting into rivulets that traced through the stone like veins.

  We traveled mostly in silence that first day, saving our energy for the climb ahead. My boots crunched over frostbitten leaves. Each step required careful balance—I’d grown used to the way my body moved with the baby now, but the uneven terrain added an unpredictable edge to it.

  Apolloh kept close to my side, offering a hand anytime I needed to steady myself. I didn’t always take it. But I appreciated the way he offered it anyway, without a word.

  By midday, we paused in a clearing to eat and rest our legs. Zia crouched beside a cluster of mossy stones, chewing a strip of dried meat while studying a fragment of map tucked into her boot.

  “This ridge up ahead,” she said, pointing to a slant of black ink and jagged markings. “It wasn’t this steep last season. The weather’s shifted something. Might be landslides.”

  Jaxe glanced toward the slope. “We’ll adjust course tomorrow. I know a pass that might be clearer, but it’ll take us around through some dense forest.”

  “Forest might be better than loose stone,” Apolloh said. “Especially with—” he gestured subtly toward me.

  I gave him a look. “You can say it. I’m pregnant, not cursed.”

  Zia smirked. “You sure? ‘Cause you’ve got the whole storm-bringer energy lately.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Says the woman who throws daggers in her sleep.”

  “Allegedly,” Jaxe muttered under his breath.

  We shared a few smiles around the fire that night, laughter rising like smoke into the cold sky. But underneath it was a shared awareness—none of us were truly relaxed. Not with that note still echoing in our minds.

  ~~~

  The next day, the air thinned as we moved higher. Every breath left a lingering ache in my ribs. The baby kicked more than usual—sharp little reminders that they were here too, listening, growing, waiting.

  Apolloh insisted we take frequent breaks, no matter how slow it made us. And truthfully, I was grateful.

  At one stop, I found myself beside Jaxe, staring out over a sheer cliff that overlooked the valley we’d crossed.

  “Ever think about turning back?” I asked him quietly.

  He didn’t answer right away. Just picked up a flat stone and sent it skimming out into nothingness.

  “No,” he said finally. “But sometimes I wonder if we’re chasing something that doesn’t want to be caught.”

  I followed the stone’s path until it vanished.

  “Then we corner it,” I said. “And we force it to show us the truth.”

  He looked at me. “Even if it’s not what you want to hear?”

  “Especially then.”

  He nodded, slow and thoughtful. “That’s what makes you the Luna.”

  ?

  That night, the wind howled through the trees, and the fire barely held its warmth. We huddled close beneath cloaks and furs. No jokes this time. No laughter.

  Just silence, and the knowledge that we were close.

  Tomorrow, we would reach the edge of the northern ruins—what remained of an ancient city swallowed by snow and time.

  Whatever waited for us there, we’d face it together.

  ~~~

  Dawn broke reluctantly.

  The sky was a dull slate of gray, clouds hanging low enough to scrape the mountain ridges. I stirred slowly beneath the weight of layered furs, blinking against the cold air that clung to my skin. The others were already moving around camp—quiet, efficient, focused. Even the birds seemed to stay silent this high up.

  Apolloh helped me to my feet, steadying me with a hand against my back. “You okay?”

  I nodded, brushing a palm over my bump. “We’re okay. A little sore, but we slept through the night.”

  His smile was faint but steady. “That’s all we need.”

  We broke camp quickly, packing what little warmth we had back into our packs. Zia scouted ahead while Jaxe double-checked the terrain leading west, toward the ruins none of us had ever seen before—but all of us had heard of.

  By mid-morning, we were winding through a steep path between towering stones and trees stripped bare by winter. The snow was lighter here, scattered in patches, but the air had that eerie stillness I recognized from dreams. Everything felt watched.

  Zia returned just before noon, her boots crunching quietly over the frozen ground. “We’re close,” she said, voice low. “Half a mile, maybe less. I saw the spires. Or what’s left of them.”

  “What else?” Apolloh asked.

  She hesitated. “Smoke.”

  We all froze.

  My pulse quickened. “Someone’s already there?”

  Zia’s mouth tightened. “Or something.”

  Jaxe adjusted the straps of his pack. “We go slow. Stay sharp.”

  We continued on foot, creeping between frost-bitten brush and jagged stones, the faint scent of charred wood drifting in on the wind. My heart pounded faster with every step, breath caught somewhere between fear and resolve.

  And then, we saw it.

  What remained of the northern ruins stretched out beneath us—half-buried in snow, broken towers leaning like bones against the hillside. Stone corridors twisted through collapsed archways, and at the very center, something flickered.

  A fire. Small. Controlled.

  Someone was here.

  We ducked behind a ridge, peering down at the shapes moving in the clearing. Too distant to make out clearly—but not too distant to feel.

  Something unnatural twisted in the air above the ruins. Not magic exactly… not wind either.

  I placed a hand over my belly. The baby stilled.

  And I knew—it was here.

  Or close.

  Closer than it had ever been before.

  ——

  We crouched behind the ridge, shrouded in silence, as the cold wind swept around us in slow, circling gusts. From this vantage point, the layout of the ruins became clearer. Half-toppled structures formed a ring around a central courtyard, cracked tiles barely visible beneath the frost and age. There was no movement near the fire now—just the low curl of smoke reaching skyward like a beacon.

  “Could be travelers,” Jaxe whispered, eyes narrowing.

  “Or bait,” Zia muttered, her fingers resting against the hilt of a dagger.

  I studied the courtyard. The sense of something off pulsed just beneath the surface. It wasn’t that the ruins looked dangerous—they looked… too still. Like they’d been waiting.

  “There,” Apolloh pointed, careful not to expose himself over the edge. “Along the far arch. Shadows moved, just barely.”

  Zia nodded. “I saw them earlier. Not wolf-shaped.”

  My stomach twisted.

  “We need a plan,” I said quietly. “If it’s the figure… or something else sent by it… we can’t just walk into its arms.”

  “And we can’t walk away either,” Apolloh added. “Not now.”

  ——

  We backed off the ridge a little to speak more freely, hidden by a cluster of frostbitten trees. Zia unrolled the weathered map again, using a flat stone as her table.

  “There’s an old tunnel system beneath the ruins,” she said, tracing lines that had faded nearly to invisibility. “Might be collapsed, but if it’s intact, it could get us inside without being seen.”

  “Assuming no one else found it first,” Jaxe said.

  I looked at the way the buildings were laid out in the clearing. “We could split. Two in the tunnels, two circling wide to distract.”

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  “No,” Apolloh said instantly. “We stay together. If it’s the figure—or anything like it—splitting up makes us easier to pick off.”

  He wasn’t wrong.

  Zia adjusted the plan. “Then we take the tunnels. Quiet. Fast. And if they’re caved in, we backtrack and go aboveground.”

  “Agreed,” Jaxe said. “But if something sees us, we don’t run. We fight.”

  I nodded. “We don’t run from this.”

  ——

  The entrance to the tunnels was half-buried behind a wall of vines and debris near the base of the eastern ridge. It took all four of us to move the rubble quietly, and even then, the sound of stone shifting felt too loud in the stillness.

  The tunnel yawned open like a throat—dark, damp, and just barely wide enough to walk through single file.

  Apolloh went first, blade drawn, senses sharp. I followed close behind, one hand on his back, the other ready with a small pulse of energy if anything leapt from the dark. Zia and Jaxe brought up the rear, weapons at the ready.

  The tunnel was colder than the outside air. The silence down here was a different kind—heavier. Like the ruins themselves remembered what had happened here, and they wanted us to remember, too.

  Halfway through, the baby shifted in my belly. Not a kick. A roll. Restless.

  I pressed my hand over them.

  “We’re almost there,” I whispered. “Just hold on a little longer.”

  When we finally reached the far side, we emerged behind a fractured stone column on the outer edge of the courtyard. The fire still burned in the center. A single figure stood beside it now.

  Not the figure—but something wrong. The shape wasn’t solid. Like it shimmered in and out of focus, more shadow than flesh.

  It didn’t turn.

  But it knew we were there.

  A slow, unnatural stillness fell over the ruins again—like everything was holding its breath.

  And then, the whisper came—not out loud, not through the air, but straight into my mind.

  “I wondered when you’d finally come

  ———

  The voice wasn’t sound—it was presence. Cold and close, threading straight through my thoughts like a shiver. I sucked in a breath and locked eyes with Apolloh.

  He felt it too. I could see it in the way his jaw clenched, in the shift of his stance. The same voice, the same cold.

  Behind us, Zia and Jaxe didn’t need words to know. The air had changed.

  Something had noticed us.

  I stepped out from behind the broken pillar, slow and deliberate, each footstep echoing lightly against the ancient stone beneath us. The figure didn’t move. It just watched, head tilted ever so slightly to the side, like it was studying us—not out of fear, but curiosity.

  Up close, it still wasn’t fully real. Parts of it shimmered like heatwaves, while others looked almost solid—robes trailing, limbs just slightly too long, like they didn’t belong to a human form at all.

  “You’ve been waiting for us,” I said, voice steady.

  The figure didn’t blink. “.”

  Apolloh stepped beside me, blade in hand. “Then say what you came to say.”

  “.”

  “What pieces?” Zia’s voice cut in sharp, dangerous.

  “.” It replied. “.”

  My stomach turned. The baby kicked again—sharp, urgent.

  “You’re speaking in riddles,” Jaxe growled. “Speak clearly or vanish.”

  It didn’t vanish.

  It turned its head slowly toward me.

  And then everything around us shifted.

  ———

  The air fractured.

  Not in sound—but in sensation. Like something in the fabric of the world had split open, and we were falling through it without moving at all.

  One blink, and the ruined chamber was gone.

  We stood instead on the edge of a blackened field, ash swirling in a wind that howled without a source. The sky above was a bruised red, bleeding into smoky gray clouds that pulsed like they were alive. I clutched my stomach instinctively, already checking—yes, the baby was still, but present. A quiet heartbeat within me.

  Beside me, Apolloh shifted uneasily, his hand brushing against mine. “What the hell—?”

  Zia and Jaxe stood just behind us, tense and alert. We weren’t separated—but we weren’t safe, either.

  Something moved through the field.

  A massive shape—half-shrouded in smoke, too large to be human. The ground trembled with its steps, but it wasn’t coming straight for us. Not yet.

  The figure stood at our side again, no longer flickering or distant. It looked different in this place—clearer. Its robes dragged through the ash, but left no trail. It didn’t look at us. Just at the shape in the distance.

  “.” The voice—its voice—was quiet now. Almost solemn. “.”

  The monstrous shape turned.

  It had no face. Just a hollow void, radiating heat and hunger.

  It saw us.

  I froze. My instincts screamed to run—but my feet didn’t move. Apolloh stood taller beside me, weapon drawn, though I could feel the doubt in him too. Even Zia and Jaxe were braced like it could hit us at any second.

  The shape moved—

  —past us.

  It rumbled by, thunder in its wake, the ground quaking beneath its weight. But it never touched us. Never turned again.

  Just faded into the smoke.

  I gasped, finally able to move. “What was that?”

  The figure turned to me slowly, as if its answer weighed more than it could carry.

  “.” A pause. “.”

  ——

  The ash didn’t settle.

  It shifted, morphed, swirled until the blackened field around us dissolved like smoke drawn into invisible lungs.

  Then we stood somewhere new.

  A throne room—but twisted. The walls were impossibly tall, vanishing into a dark ceiling that pulsed like a living heart. Chains hung from it, some broken, others taut, pulling at unseen weight. At the far end of the room sat a throne made of bone and black stone, its arms carved with symbols I didn’t recognize but somehow understood. Power. Binding. Blood.

  A figure sat on it.

  It wasn’t the figure—not the one guiding us through this vision—but something else. A shadow in the shape of a king, crown jagged and eyes glowing with fire. Its presence was suffocating.

  All around the room, people bowed. Dozens, maybe hundreds—heads lowered, faces hidden. Some were human. Others… weren’t. Wolves. Creatures caught between forms. Eyes blank, as if something else looked through them.

  Zia stepped forward, voice low. “This is wrong. This isn’t real.”

  “.” The figure beside us didn’t sound cruel—only certain. “.”

  “Is that me?” Apolloh asked, his voice hollow, eyes locked on the shadowed king.

  “.” A beat. “.”

  The throne flickered, and in its place stood a forest.

  Silent.

  Still.

  A graveyard of trees.

  We stood among them, and as I looked down, I saw the ground littered with feathers—silver and white. Familiar. They glimmered in the pale light filtering through dead branches.

  Then the wind blew.

  Whispers curled through the trees, distant voices that sounded like mine, Apolloh’s, Zia’s—Jaxe’s too. They repeated things we hadn’t said yet.

  Things we might never say.

  I knelt, hand brushing the feathers. My heart twisted.

  A child’s laughter echoed through the silence.

  I stood up fast. “Is this about the baby?”

  The figure turned slowly toward me, its form slightly distorted again, light bending around it.

  “.”

  The trees faded.

  Now we stood on a cliff, the horizon split by storm clouds and firelight. Cities burned in the distance. I could see the fortress—the one we’d just returned to—its walls crumbling, overrun. But beyond it… there was still light.

  Not fire.

  Hope.

  Small.

  But alive.

  The figure spoke one last time as the storm surged closer.

  “.”

  And then—

  The cliff gave way.

  We fell.

  And I opened my eyes.

  ———

  I gasped as the world snapped back into place.

  Stone beneath my feet. Dust in my lungs. The fortress ruins again—cold and quiet, like nothing had happened.

  But it had.

  My heart thundered in my chest. I wasn’t sure when I’d started shaking, but Apolloh’s hand found mine, grounding me. Zia cursed under her breath. Jaxe just stood still, like he hadn’t come back all the way yet.

  None of us spoke right away.

  The silence buzzed.

  “What the hell was that?” Zia finally asked, her voice raw.

  “A warning,” Apolloh muttered, eyes scanning the room like something might still come lunging out of the stone. “Or a prophecy. Or both.”

  I stared at my hands—still whole. Real. But the weight of what we’d seen clung to me like smoke. The throne, the child, the fall… my child.

  My hand drifted to my belly. Still safe. Still strong. But that vision had left more than fear—it left questions I couldn’t name yet.

  Then I felt it.

  The shift.

  A quiet presence behind us.

  We turned slowly.

  The figure was still there.

  Exactly where it had been. Unmoved. Unblinking. Watching.

  It had let us fall through all that—and never once left.

  The silence grew tighter around us, like it expected us to speak first. But no one did.

  Then its voice threaded through the air again, slow and sure.

  “.”

  My throat tightened. “What do you want from us?”

  “.”

  “Then why show us any of this?” Jaxe asked, his voice edged with frustration.

  “.”

  It turned slightly toward me, though its face remained unreadable.

  “.”

  The others stiffened beside me, but I didn’t flinch. “I already know the cost.”

  The figure tilted its head—approving or pitying, I couldn’t tell.

  “.”

  And then—just like that—it was gone.

  No swirl of wind. No flash of light.

  Just… gone.

  Leaving the ruins colder than before.

  The ruins had gone still again, the unnatural tension gone—but not forgotten.

  The others gave us space, wandering to the edges of the chamber in silence, each of them wrestling with the echoes of what we’d just seen. But Apolloh didn’t leave my side. He sat beside me on a smooth stone ledge, our knees brushing as he stared ahead, hands clasped between his legs.

  I leaned into him slowly, and he didn’t hesitate. One arm came around my shoulders, the other hand resting protectively on my stomach. His thumb rubbed absent, gentle circles.

  Neither of us spoke at first.

  What was there to say?

  Everything we’d just witnessed clung to us like smoke—visions of thrones and fallen cities, a child at the center of it all. Our child.

  I tilted my head, resting it against his shoulder. “Do you think it’s real? All of it?”

  He was quiet for a breath. “It felt real.”

  “Too real.”

  He nodded.

  I looked down at his hand on my belly. “I don’t want to be afraid of what’s coming.”

  “You’re not.” His voice was soft, but firm. “You’re cautious. That’s different.”

  I met his eyes, and he held my gaze like he was anchoring me. “Whatever comes,” he said, “we face it together. Always.”

  A lump formed in my throat, and I blinked fast. “Even if it’s a throne of bones and blood?”

  He gave a short, humorless huff of a laugh. “Especially then.”

  I smiled—small, but real—and leaned into his warmth. For a few minutes, the weight of the vision faded beneath the steadiness of his presence.

  And then—Zia’s voice called gently across the chamber, “We should move.”

  We stood, slower than usual. Apolloh helped me up, and I gave one last glance at where the figure had stood. The stone there looked untouched. Like it had never been here at all.

  ?

  We regrouped near the entrance of the chamber, Jaxe already scanning the path ahead. “We’re taking it slow,” he said, glancing at me. “No rushing. The descent’s steep, and we’re not risking anything.”

  Zia nodded in agreement. “Two days back if we pace it. We’ll make camp partway down.”

  I caught her eye. “Thank you.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t like cryptic ruins anyway.”

  We stepped into the early evening light, the last fingers of sunlight stretching across the stone and mountain edge. As we began our descent, Apolloh stayed close to my side, Zia and Jaxe forming a loose perimeter. Every step was careful. Intentional. And even though the vision’s weight lingered behind us, we carried it forward—knowing what was at stake now.

  For ourselves.

  For each other.

  And for the life growing quietly within me.

  ~~~

  The path narrowed as we descended from the ruins, forcing us into a single line. The mountain’s steep face was slick in places, worn smooth by wind and time. One wrong step could mean a dangerous slide. Apolloh stayed right behind me, his hand always ready to catch me if I stumbled. Jaxe took the lead, while Zia watched our backs.

  The sky dimmed as we dropped lower, shifting from golden hues to the dusky violet of a fading day. Shadows stretched long across the trail, and the chill returned with the wind, biting at our cheeks and tugging at cloaks.

  “I didn’t expect the mountain to feel steeper going down,” I muttered, carefully easing over a jagged step.

  Apolloh gave a quiet huff behind me. “Everything feels steeper when you’re trying not to fall with a baby on board.”

  I rolled my eyes but smiled. “Thanks for the reminder.”

  “Anytime,” he said, voice light—but his hand never strayed far from the small of my back.

  We walked in silence for a while, the only sounds the crunch of gravel and the whisper of shifting wind. It wasn’t a peaceful silence. The vision still haunted the back of my mind. The throne. The child. The voice.

  “.” The sentence replays in my head like a beating drum.

  What would that cost be? For me? For Apolloh? For the child?

  By the time we found flat ground for the night, the stars were peeking out, faint and watchful through thin clouds. A small clearing stretched beneath a natural rock overhang—a perfect place for shelter.

  “We’ll camp here,” Jaxe said, dropping his pack with a grunt.

  Zia started gathering firewood while Apolloh helped me sit down on a flat patch of earth. My legs were sore from the careful descent, but it wasn’t unbearable. The ache was mostly in my lower back, a dull throb that reminded me I wasn’t moving alone anymore.

  “I’ll set up a perimeter,” Jaxe said quietly, already stalking off into the trees with his usual ghostlike steps.

  Zia struck flint and steel together, coaxing flame into a pile of dry leaves. It caught quickly, firelight flickering against the stone behind us, throwing our shadows long and thin.

  When we all settled around the flames, a strange quiet stretched between us.

  “I keep thinking about the part where the child stood before that… throne,” Zia said suddenly, her arms wrapped around her knees. “It didn’t feel like a warning. It felt like a test.”

  Apolloh nodded. “Or a choice.”

  Jaxe returned, sitting silently beside Zia. His expression was unreadable, but his jaw was tight. “The cost doesn’t always come later. Sometimes it’s made in the moment.”

  I rested a hand on my belly. It was subtle, still small, but present. And now more than ever, I could feel its pulse like a second rhythm inside me.

  “There’s too much we don’t know,” I whispered.

  “That’s true,” Apolloh said softly. “But we know what we’re fighting for.”

  He laid down beside me, his warmth seeping through my side as the fire crackled low. Zia and Jaxe eventually stretched out near the fire as well, the weariness of the day settling into their bones.

  I lay there with Apolloh’s hand over mine, the stars blinking down on us.

  The quiet wasn’t so heavy anymore.

  It felt like something else now.

  Resolve.

  ———

  Morning came quietly, with soft gray light pushing through the clouds and the chill of mountain air clinging to our clothes. The fire had burned down to embers, but Apolloh had kept me warm through the night, his body curled protectively around mine.

  I stirred slowly, blinking against the pale sky as it brightened.

  Zia was already up, packing away supplies with practiced efficiency. Jaxe stood at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed as he stared off into the distance. Apolloh shifted beside me, blinking away sleep, his hand instinctively brushing over my stomach before he sat up.

  “You alright?” he murmured, voice still thick from sleep.

  I nodded. “Just tired. But I’m okay.”

  We broke camp without speaking much. There wasn’t really anything left to say. Not yet. The air felt… expectant. Like the mountain itself was holding its breath.

  The path today was easier, though still winding and narrow in places. We moved in the same formation—Jaxe ahead, me and Apolloh in the center, Zia watching our backs. They kept close, watchful, alert. Even now, after everything we’d seen, the mountain didn’t feel safe.

  Birdsong trickled through the trees as we descended farther. The air warmed slightly, and greenery returned to the landscape—stubborn patches of grass and clusters of trees that thickened the lower we went.

  At one point, the path curved sharply along a ridge, steep on one side with a long drop into the valley. I paused, frowning at the descent ahead. My legs ached again, and the pressure in my lower back had returned.

  Apolloh noticed immediately. “Let’s stop for a second.”

  “No, we’re close. I’m fine.”

  He gave me a look. Not a commanding one—just calm. Patient. Steady.

  I exhaled. “Okay. One minute.”

  I sat on a nearby rock while the others scouted ahead. Apolloh stayed beside me, offering a flask of water. “Almost there,” he said, thumb grazing the back of my hand.

  “I know,” I whispered. “I just… I keep replaying it all.”

  “Me too.”

  He didn’t push me to talk. He never did. But his presence was enough—strong, grounding, exactly what I needed.

  When we started walking again, I felt lighter.

  By midafternoon, the forest thinned, and through the trees, I saw the outer towers of the fortress rising like sentinels in the distance. Stone walls, worn by time but still strong. Still waiting for us.

  We slowed as we neared the outer gates.

  Just as we passed through the shadow of the main arch, movement burst from the corridor ahead—

  “Kailaa! Elias!” I laughed as the pups ran toward us, their little feet thudding excitedly on the stone.

  They collided into me and Apolloh, tails wagging, voices chirping with overlapping greetings.

  “You’re back!” Kailaa squeaked, in her human form again.

  “Did you find anything cool?” Elias added, already looking at Apolloh’s cloak like it might be hiding answers.

  Apolloh chuckled and ruffled their hair. “Maybe. But first—we rest.”

  Zia and Jaxe exchanged a glance behind us, a quiet understanding passing between them.

  We were home again.

  But we weren’t the same as when we left.

  And neither was the path ahead.

  ———

  Kailaa jumped into Apolloh’s arms, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck like a koala, completely ignoring the dirt and dust clinging to his travel-worn clothes.

  “You smell like rocks,” she announced, squinting at him.

  “Thanks?” he said, chuckling as he held her steady.

  Elias tugged on the edge of my cloak. “Did the mountain have monsters? Did you fight them?”

  I crouched carefully and smiled. “We didn’t have to fight. But we saw something… big.”

  “Was it scary?” he asked, eyes wide.

  “Yes,” I admitted, brushing a curl from his forehead. “But we were brave.”

  His chest puffed out proudly, like he had been the one to face down the unknown.

  As Kailaa hung from Apolloh like a backpack and Elias insisted I tell him everything, I glanced up and caught the moment between Zia and Jaxe.

  It wasn’t loud or dramatic—just a look. Zia’s brow furrowed slightly, her jaw tight. Jaxe gave the barest shake of his head, his mouth pressed into a flat line. I recognized the expression: tension masked in calm.

  They’d both seen something in the vision that unsettled them. Maybe different things. Maybe the same. But whatever it was, they weren’t ready to say it out loud.

  Not yet.

  ?

  That night passed quietly, with warm food and soft beds. Apolloh and I collapsed into sleep with Kailaa tucked between us and Elias curled at our feet like a little pup guarding the den. The warmth of them, the slow rhythm of their breathing, the gentle weight of Apolloh’s hand over mine…

  It was the first real sleep I’d had since before the mountain.

  ?

  The next morning came sharp and clear. Fortress life had already returned to its usual rhythm—scouts patrolling the walls, messengers dashing between corridors, and the steady clang of weapons in the training yard. But beneath it all, there was a shift in the air. Everyone could feel it, even if they didn’t know why.

  We gathered in the war room just after dawn.

  Apolloh stood at the head of the table, shoulders squared but eyes tired. Zia leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, her gaze flicking toward the windows where early sunlight filtered through. Jaxe sat off to the side, silent, fingers drumming against the hilt of his blade.

  I stood beside Apolloh, hand resting lightly on the edge of the table.

  “We saw something,” he began, voice low but steady. “Something tied to the stone. And to the figure.”

  Zia glanced my way. “The vision didn’t just show us possibilities. It showed us consequences.”

  “And the child,” I added. “They were always at the center.”

  Jaxe finally looked up. “The figure didn’t warn us. It tested us. And we passed. Or maybe we didn’t.”

  Silence followed his words like a shadow.

  “The fortress needs to be prepared,” Apolloh said. “Whatever’s coming—we don’t have the luxury of waiting anymore.”

  Zia nodded once, sharp and certain. “He’s right. We have to move.”

  “We already started increasing the patrols along the eastern ridge,” Jaxe added, voice clipped. “I’ll double them. No one comes or goes unnoticed.”

  I felt the weight of all their eyes on me next.

  “And the stone?” Zia asked. “What do we do with it?”

  I met her gaze, steady. “We keep it close. And we don’t use it unless there’s no other choice.”

  No one argued. There wasn’t time to.

  Everyone just… understood.

  Whatever comfort we’d had before the vision was gone. We were in it now. The shadow of what we’d seen had crept into our world, and all we could do was be ready when it came knocking.

  ?

  Three Days Later

  The fortress had changed.

  It wasn’t just the increased patrols or the newly forged weapons glinting in the sun. It was the way people moved—brisk, focused. The way conversations dropped when someone new entered a room. Everyone had felt the shift, even if they didn’t know what caused it.

  Zia and Jaxe had barely slept. They coordinated defenses, trained the younger wolves, scouted the nearby forests with surgical precision.

  Apolloh had taken up his Alpha role more visibly—consulting with the other leaders, rallying the guards, reassuring the people. But I could see the toll it took. He’d smile for them, offer calm words—but at night, when it was just us, the weight of it all settled in his shoulders.

  And me… I stayed close to the stone.

  It hadn’t spoken again—not in dreams, not in waking hours. But it pulsed gently whenever I passed by, like it was aware. Watching. Waiting.

  Just like we were.

  ~~~

  The fire crackled low in our quarters, its light casting a soft amber glow across the stone walls. I sat curled into the cushions near the hearth, my hands resting over my bump, absently tracing circles over the fabric of my tunic.

  Apolloh stepped in quietly, closing the door behind him with care. His armor was gone—replaced by a loose shirt and the exhaustion only I ever saw in his eyes.

  “You should be asleep,” he murmured, crossing the room to kneel beside me.

  “So should you.”

  He gave a tired smile, then reached out, placing his hand over mine. “Can’t. Every time I close my eyes, I see that vision again. That shadow.”

  I nodded. “I know. Me too.”

  There was a silence between us, but it wasn’t heavy. Just… present.

  “I keep thinking about what it showed us,” I whispered, turning to look at him. “About the child. About us.”

  He shifted so he was sitting fully beside me now, legs stretched out, his hand still linked with mine. “I think it wants us to doubt everything.”

  “It’s working,” I admitted, voice softer than before.

  His grip tightened ever so slightly. “But it didn’t show us falling apart. It showed us fighting. Together.”

  I turned to face him, and for a moment, the fear cracked enough for warmth to slip through. “Do you ever wonder if we’re enough? For all of this?”

  “All the time,” he said, leaning in to press his forehead gently to mine. “But I’d still choose this. You. Every time.”

  My throat tightened, emotion thick behind my ribs. Before I could speak, there was a soft knock—then a clumsy crash as the door burst open.

  “Are you fighting?” Elias asked, wide-eyed and breathless.

  Kailaa stumbled in after him, hugging a stuffed fox, blinking sleep from her eyes. “We heard something.”

  I straightened, surprised. “Heard what?”

  “I dunno…” Kailaa said. “It was like… a hum? In our heads?”

  Apolloh and I exchanged a glance instantly, the shift between us silent but sharp.

  “From the stone?” I asked gently, watching their faces.

  Elias shrugged. “Maybe? It felt like it was calling someone. But not us.”

  “Calling who?” Apolloh asked.

  The pups looked at each other.

  Kailaa frowned. “We don’t know. It felt… far away. Like it wasn’t done yet.”

  That phrase—not done yet—chilled something deep in my spine.

  I stood slowly, crossing the room and kneeling to their height. “You’re safe. It can’t hurt you.”

  “But it knows we’re here,” Elias whispered.

  Apolloh stood behind me, protective and still. I could feel the same unease settling in his chest.

  The stone wasn’t done.

  And maybe… neither was the figure.

  ———

  Elias shuffled closer to me as if the room had suddenly grown colder. Kailaa clutched her fox tighter, eyes darting toward the wall as though the hum might start again any second.

  I glanced up at Apolloh. “We need to check the stone. Now.”

  He gave a small nod, already moving toward the door.

  “No,” Kailaa said suddenly, stopping us in our tracks. “Don’t go. Not yet.”

  I turned back to her, surprised. “Why?”

  “Because it’s… quiet now.” Her voice was thin, uncertain. “Like it went back to sleep. But if you get close, it might wake up again.”

  My stomach sank. The idea of the stone sleeping—of it having moods, patterns, intent—was more unsettling than anything we’d seen so far.

  “It wanted to be heard,” Elias said. “But it wasn’t for us. So it stopped when it realized we listened.”

  Apolloh came back toward us, kneeling so he was level with the pups. “How do you know that?”

  Elias frowned, looking a little frustrated, like he didn’t have the words for what he felt. “I don’t know how. I just know. It was loud, then it wasn’t. But it wasn’t mad.”

  That should’ve been comforting. But somehow, it wasn’t.

  “We’ll keep it secured,” Apolloh said, more to me than to them. “And we’ll rotate guards. No one goes near it alone.”

  I nodded slowly, though my thoughts were still racing.

  Kailaa tugged on my sleeve. “Can we stay with you tonight?”

  “Yes,” I said, instantly. “Of course.”

  Whatever strange sense had pulled them from their beds and to our door, I trusted it. These pups had proven time and again that they felt things others couldn’t. If the stone really had tried to reach someone—and they had been its accidental audience—then something was moving again beneath the surface.

  Something that hadn’t finished what it started.

  ———

  The room eventually settled, the fire dimming to embers. Kailaa and Elias had fallen asleep curled between us, soft breaths rising and falling in rhythm. Apolloh’s arm rested protectively around them, his other hand loosely clasped with mine.

  But I couldn’t sleep.

  Something itched at the edge of my thoughts—like a thread unraveling just out of reach.

  I slipped from the bed quietly, careful not to wake them, and padded into the hall. A faint breeze ran through the stone corridor, brushing past my arms like a whisper.

  The chamber where we kept the stone was only a few turns away, guarded by two sentinels who straightened as I approached.

  “My Luna,” one greeted softly, bowing his head.

  “I just want to look,” I said.

  They exchanged glances but stepped aside without protest.

  I entered.

  The stone sat on the pedestal at the center of the room, cradled in iron brackets, its surface still dark. Silent.

  But not still.

  My breath caught.

  It was… pulsing. Not glowing or vibrating, but gently flexing—like it was breathing.

  I stepped closer, heart pounding. The air was heavier here, thick with a pressure that settled in my ears and wrapped around my chest.

  And then—without a sound—part of its surface shifted.

  Not cracked. Not chipped.

  Shifted.

  A ripple passed through the stone’s smooth face, almost like water disturbed by a falling leaf. And in the distorted reflection, for the briefest heartbeat—

  I saw an eye.

  Not mine.

  Watching me.

  I stumbled back, breath hitching, but the ripple was gone. The stone was motionless again, blank and inert. No sound. No hum. No sign of the presence that had stared through me.

  But I knew it had happened. I felt it in my bones.

  It had seen me.

  And it wanted me to know.

  My legs felt like stone, rooted to the floor even as my heart thundered in my chest. The flickering torchlight did little to push back the weight pressing in around me. My skin prickled.

  It had seen me.

  Not in a vague, symbolic way. Not like the visions.

  It had looked through the stone—through me—as if I were nothing more than a window.

  I turned away sharply, forcing my feet to move, forcing myself to breathe. Every step back through the corridor felt like walking away from something that wasn’t finished speaking.

  The guards noticed my tension, but they didn’t ask questions. Good. I didn’t have answers yet.

  When I stepped back into the room, the fire had almost gone out. Apolloh stirred as the door clicked softly behind me.

  “Laika?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. His eyes cracked open.

  “I’m fine,” I whispered, crossing the room. “Just needed air.”

  But the moment I slipped beneath the blankets, his arm wrapped around my waist, warm and steady.

  “You’re not fine.”

  I didn’t respond right away.

  “It shifted,” I said finally, barely audible. “The stone. Not glowing or humming. It moved. Like it was alive.”

  His hold on me tightened. “What else?”

  I hesitated. “There was… an eye. In the surface. It looked right at me, Apolloh. It saw me.”

  He went still.

  Kailaa stirred faintly, her little hand brushing my arm before settling again.

  “I don’t think it was showing me something,” I whispered. “It wasn’t a vision. It was aware. It was watching.”

  A long silence stretched between us. Then—

  “We’re sealing the chamber,” Apolloh said quietly. “First thing in the morning. That stone isn’t just a relic—it’s a door. And I don’t think we’re the only ones opening it.”

  I nodded, eyes wide in the dark.

  Because whatever that presence was… it knew I was here.

  And now I knew it could look back.

  “I didn’t feel fear right away,” I whispered. “It was after. When it was gone. Like it left something behind in me.”

  Apolloh’s fingers brushed gently through my hair, anchoring me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It wasn’t just seeing me,” I said slowly. “It was measuring something. Judging. Deciding.”

  The fire cracked, the sound almost too loud in the silence.

  “I’ve felt a lot of things from the stone,” I continued, “but this was different. Like I became part of its awareness for a moment—and then it let me go.”

  He didn’t speak for a while. Just held me, his thumb tracing idle circles along my arm.

  “I believe you,” he said eventually. “Even if no one else does, I do.”

  I let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

  Kailaa pressed herself deeper into the crook of my side, mumbling something incoherent in her sleep. Elias flopped an arm across Apolloh’s chest, still deeply out.

  “We won’t face it alone,” Apolloh said, his voice low and certain. “Whatever it is, whatever it’s watching for—we’ll be ready.”

  For the first time that night, I let my eyes close. Not because the fear was gone. But because I trusted the warmth around me to hold it at bay, at least for a little while.

  ?

  The next morning.

  The stone chamber was sealed with more than just stone and metal. Apolloh had called in three wardens—each trained in protective runes passed down for generations. The markings shimmered faintly along the doorway now, warding off anything—or anyone—that might try to get too close.

  I stood a short distance away, arms crossed over my chest, watching the process unfold.

  Zia approached from the side, brows pulled low. “You told him?”

  “I told him,” I said. “And I’m telling you, too.”

  She listened without interrupting, eyes narrowing only when I described the eye.

  “You’re sure it wasn’t a vision?”

  I gave her a look. “I know what those feel like.”

  Jaxe joined us with a low whistle as he studied the runes being etched. “That’s serious protection. You think it’s really that dangerous now?”

  “I don’t think anymore,” I said quietly. “I know.”

  The three of us stood there in silence, watching the final rune flare into place and settle with a low thrum of energy. Apolloh stepped back from it, meeting my eyes across the distance with a nod.

  The stone was quiet now.

  But for how long?

  ~~~

  The air in the room felt thicker, somehow. Even after the stone had been sealed, I couldn’t shake the sensation that it wasn’t entirely finished with us. It wasn’t just in the shadows, or in the faint chill creeping along the walls. It was the way the silence seemed to hum with something unspoken, something left unseen.

  I shifted on the edge of the bed, the weight of the day pressing down on me, but before I could think on it too much, I felt Kailaa’s tiny fingers brush against my arm. The soft pressure was a welcome distraction—her warmth, her innocence.

  She looked up at me through drowsy eyes, her hand reaching for my face, and her soft giggle made my chest loosen in a way I hadn’t expected.

  “Momma?” she whispered.

  I gasp quietly at the change in title. She called me momma. I gently stroke her head, a pink blush crawling up my cheeks.

  “Yeah, sweetheart?” I said, smiling down at her.

  “Story,” she mumbled, her voice still thick with sleep.

  I leaned down and brushed her hair from her forehead. “Which story do you want?”

  “The one about the wolves,” she said, curling closer into my side.

  I couldn’t help but smile. Apolloh had told her that story a dozen times—about the wolves who protected their pack no matter what. And here she was, asking for it again.

  “Alright,” I murmured. “The wolves.”

  As I started the story, I could feel Apolloh’s eyes on me, watching the quiet moment, but he didn’t say anything. His quiet smile said enough.

  Elias, who had been resting at the foot of the bed, perked up at the mention of wolves. His wide eyes blinked in the dim light as he slowly crawled up to join us, the small bundle of energy always quick to follow wherever Kailaa led.

  For a moment, everything felt… almost normal. As if the world outside hadn’t shifted beneath our feet, as if the stone and its dangers weren’t looming, just beyond the horizon. As if all we needed to do was rest, let the innocence of the pups remind us of the small joys.

  And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

  ?

  The weight of everything that had happened, of what was coming, settled back into me once the story ended. Apolloh’s hand found mine, his grip warm and solid as we both looked at the pups, now curled up together at the foot of the bed, their quiet breathing a stark contrast to the tension hanging over us.

  But for now, we were still here. Together. And that was enough.