Page 209

He left it on her pillow one afternoon after a particularly brutal training session—no note, no fanfare. A small, smooth wolf's tooth, bound in copper wire and strung onto leather. She knew instantly it was his. There was a faint scent of his shift on it, earthy and sharp. She slipped it over her head before dinner and didn't take it off after.

That night, as they sat around the fire with the others, he nudged a rough bundle toward her. Inside were tiny wooden disks, each carved with a moon phase—birch, ash, yew. When she glanced up at him, eyebrows raised, he just shrugged.

"You said the moon on a clear night made the forest feel alive," he muttered. "I carved it so you could keep it close."

She didn't know what to say. So, she just leaned into his shoulder a little longer that night.

And then came the map.

She returned one evening from scouting with Threk to find a rolled parchment on her bedroll, tied with simple twine. She thought it might be supplying records—until she opened it. It was hand-drawn, rough but careful. A map of the woods. Not all of it—just the parts she loved. The glade with the wildflowers. The stream where she captured the fox family- it had hung in the living room of their cottage. The hill with the crooked tree where she always sat at sunset.

At the bottom corner was a small symbol she didn't recognize. Two overlapping circles, like a sun and a moon.

"That's us," he said later, voice low and bashful. "I couldn't draw your face."

She stared at it for a moment before she reached for his hand and held it.

Later still, she found a candle holder tucked among her things—a wolf and a doe carved in a single curve of driftwood. When she lit the candle, the flickering shadows made them come alive. She kept it by her bedside and watched the shadows dance as she ran her fingers through her wolf's soft fur as he tried to snuggle.

Chapter 79

Hagan never let her wander alone in the woods. He insisted that either Veyr, Threk or Dain accompany her if he wasn't available.

Despite her assurances, he didn't like it when she and Threk wandered off into the woods, either. He'd follow, shadow-stepping behind them with an expression that barely masked his annoyance. One day, Seren finally turned to him, exasperated. "Hagan. I need space from your hovering. It's like your gloom is contagious."

His face fell, wounded. "I just— I keep thinking I'll lose you too. That you'll vanish. That I won't get to you in time."

The silence between them stretched long, until Seren's voice softened. "You won't. Threk's with me. He'd die before letting anything happen."

Hagan didn't like that either, but he nodded.

"I had a dream of war," Astrid said one morning, her voice quiet but firm." And of a wolf who wasn't a wolf."

Her eyes were fixed on something far away—something none of them could see.

Vir let out a rough grunt. "We are training for it. Everyone who can stand holds a weapon. If this is coming—"

"We're not ready," Kastor interrupted, his tone gentle but edged with warning. "How can we be ready? They have been planning this, right from the time of the prophesy. You're thinking of this like it's asingle battle. But it's not. It's a slow knife. We don't even know what's going on in Starnheim."

"We're trying," Garrik said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Boren's cousin's still in there. We still haven't had word from him."

Renna shifted beside Kastor; her fingers laced tightly in her lap. "And if he's already silenced?"

Kastor placed a steadying hand on her knee. "Then, we go in blind. But not unprepared. I think planting Lia here, the killings, the marking on the corpses...they are all linked."

Veyr gave a curt nod, eyes sweeping the circle. "I agree. It all comes back to Seren. There was that death right after Hadan and Seren handfasted. And then things quieted down when it looked like the fated bonding was broken. Again, once Hagan went in search of Seren, problems started again. Someone wants to see Vargrheim in ruins."

The fire cracked and popped, sending sparks flying into the air like fireflies trying to escape. Then the old voice of the former Shadow cut through the heat, sharp and deliberate.

"And Draken? What about his ashes?"

Hagan remained impassive but his pain flowed into Seren in waves.

"His ashes stay here," he said. "Until this is done. Until I know why he died."

Astrid was pale but she did not object. A hush followed. Heavy. Respectful.

Then Threk spoke, his voice low but steady. "She'll come for Seren. Or she'll send someone who will do the job."