Page 3

Chapter

Three

The wind shifts as soon as we near Einar’s home.

My home. Even after a few months, it’s still a foreign thought.

In my bones, the old farm from which I’ve been banished is still home.

I ache to return to my younger siblings.

They need to know they’re halflings and will awaken their werewolf side should they kill a human or a fae.

Leif, the oldest of my half-siblings, is my biggest concern. He has a fiery temper equal to his father’s. Gunnar, my stepfather, doesn’t know what patience is. Tolerance and compassion are foreign concepts to him. He tried to sell me to the highest bidder the moment my mother took her last breath.

My hunter blade stirs against my side, pulling me from my thoughts, its metal still but its magic active.

I glance toward Einar, who says nothing.

He’s been quiet since the clearing. His silence is equal parts unnerving and calming.

He has a steady strength and perfect confidence which often helps me focus.

Before us, the stone home carved into the mountain face rises from mist and cliff like a watchful sentinel. Above, a shadow arcs across the clouds.

Sapphire.

She circles, dives, her orange scales catching what little sun is left.

A glint in her eye belies her innocence—she knows what a terrifying sight she is.

Like a falling flame, she lands on the outer perch, wings stretching wide before folding with grace.

Her intelligent gaze stops on Einar first, then me.

I nod to her, hand still resting on my sword. She releases a low, rattling huff.

A second dragon glides silently above us. Midnight black, wings outstretched like smoke across the sky. Vash. He doesn’t land but soars overhead with purpose.

We reach the stairway then ascend, boots echoing off the carved steps. No words between us.

When we get to the door, it’s already open. Harek stands inside, leaning against the entry arch with his arms crossed, brow furrowed. His cloak is damp, boots muddy. His expression shifts when he sees us—relief first, then something sharper.

“Where have you been?” His gaze lands on me, and he sniffs. “You smell like old blood and burned bone.”

“Good to see you too.”

My best friend doesn’t even crack a smile. “We have a problem.”

Einar and I follow Harek through the outer hall, past the twin hearths flanking the entry. Sapphire’s claws click against the balcony outside, a low rumble following us like thunder from a brewing storm.

Harek leads us into the map room. It’s one of my father’s favorites, with a domed ceiling that flickers with fae lights. They shimmer over a table carved from black stone, its surface etched with maps of the surrounding regions.

My friend tosses a folded cloth onto the center of the map. A charcoal sketch unrolls across the borders of the town of Mirendel, where we now live. The lines are harsh and coiled in a shape that makes my stomach clench.

I know it before it’s fully revealed.

“The totem.” My words barely come out above a whisper.

Harek nods, tapping one of the glyphs near the center. “Not just any totem. This one’s meant for blood fracture.”

“Where did you… When…” I struggle to form a complete sentence. “But you weren’t there!”

He stares at me. “You’ve seen it?”

“We were just there. When did you see it?”

“From a vision.”

My mouth falls open, but my voice won’t cooperate. My mind is too busy trying to make sense of it. Harek had a vision of the site Einar and I stumbled upon?

There’s no way that’s a coincidence.

My father moves beside me, studies the lines. “Ritual design. Very old. Possibly pre-hunter era.”

I glance up, finding my voice. “What does it do?”

“Targets bloodlines,” Harek answers. “Tears them apart, making legacy magic inert. If it’s strong enough, it can erase a line from existence. Not by killing it, but by nullifying it.”

My stomach does acrobatics. “Someone wants to eliminate the hunter line.”

The map flickers as my blade shifts at my side. The sigils are quiet now, but I remember how they glowed, how the metal thrummed when I was near the clearing.

They want my father and me gone. Not just dead. Undone.

Einar speaks at last, voice low. “We need to find the ritualists behind this. And we need to find them before they finish what they’ve started.”

The walls seem to close in, the air is tight and thin. I step away from them, gasping. “I need some space.”

Harek’s eyes widen. “Eira?—”

I run.

Desperate footsteps sound, but then they stop as quickly as they started. My father tells Harek to let me be. My friend argues, but can’t truly stand up against the fae hunter.

I slip through the corridors, slowing as I put more distance between them and me. My fingers trail grooves in the wall—old etchings, almost worn away by time. They were probably meant for protection. Did they ever work? Might they still?

Sapphire’s shadow crosses a window then disappears. Vash isn’t in sight.

My room still smells faintly of my mother—lavender, summer storms, and steel.

A candle on the far shelf flickers as I enter.

I close the door before lighting another.

The tiny flames glow, their light bouncing against the carved walls and making shadows dance across the ceiling like memories I can’t quite reach.

The chest waits for me in the corner of a closet, tucked behind old fabric.

My mother’s Secret Keeper’s chest. It was in this very spot I last heard her voice. At least, I think it was her voice. It felt like her speaking to me in my mind.

I should try reading the etchings again. That was when I heard… what I heard. Taking a deep breath, I kneel then pull up the latch. When the lid lifts, a pulse of warmth greets me, soft as breath.

After carefully removing the teal petals, I pick up the wolf sword. Turn it around. The etchings nearly knock me back.

The Secret Keeper’s Shield.

It protects the bearer of the secrets.

The bearer protects those entrusted to her.

If you can read these words,

You are her.

You have been entrusted with much.

Your blood carries the necessary magic.

Follow it, protect those in your care.

Be brave, be strong.

You have no other choice.

Everyone depends on it.

I read them aloud. Wait.

Nothing.

Disappointment washes through me. I must’ve only been able to activate the voice the first time I spoke the words.

But I remember. My mother’s voice told me to tell no one.

Not Harek? Or my father? She trusted Harek and his family with her other secrets. Surely, I can tell him. Unless she didn’t tell anyone at all.

She certainly kept everything from me. That my father is the fae hunter, that we come from a unique line of werewolves, that she’s some kind of keeper of secrets.

I’ve pushed all of this from my mind for the last few months. It’s easier to keep a secret hidden from my best friend when it’s out of my thoughts altogether.

It isn’t fair of my mother to expect me to hold this alone. And it definitely wasn’t right of her to keep everything from me—so many things that make all the difference in my life. I don’t understand why she would’ve done this to me.

“Speak to me!”

The last line of the first section glows: You are her.

I barely resist the urge to throw the shield. “What is that supposed to mean?”

The third line lights up: The bearer protects those entrusted to her. Then the second: It protects the bearer of the secrets.

Does that mean I’m supposed to protect my loved ones, and the sword will protect me?

The very last line glows: Everyone depends on it.

My mind races to understand the hidden messages. Then something clicks into place, and I think I understand. At least, I hope I do.

I hold up the sword, again looking at the etchings on the back. “It isn’t that I need to keep the contents of the chest secret, it’s that I have to find the real secrets and use them to protect others.”

The entire message glimmers.

Hopefully that’s a yes. I’m taking it as such, and I’m finally going to tell Harek and my father about this. It can’t be a coincidence that I’ve found this and now there appears to be a movement to eradicate Einar and me.

The shield rests heavy in my hands. It isn’t like my hunter sword, but somehow it’s a perfect match.

I carry it down to the map room where Harek and Einar sit in silence.

Sapphire is perched outside the window, one eye visible through the high window slit, watching as if she’s eager to hear our plans.

Both my father and Harek glance between me and the shield.

I lay the shield on the table between them. “I found this in a chest amongst my mother’s things. I’m not only a hunter and a werewolf, but the Secret Keeper, too.”

It’s laughable that I spent my entire life thinking I was nothing more than a boring human.

Harek doesn’t blink. “You… but…” He shakes his head. “This shouldn’t surprise me.”

My father looks deep in thought, then he leans in, studying the wolf carving. His hand hovers over it, brows furrowing. “Looks fae-forged. Reinforced, not ornamental.”

I turn it over and wait for them to read the message.

Both of their expressions are blank.

My heart sinks. “Read it!”

Einar leans closer. “The scratch?”

I trace the lines with one finger, my pulse kicking up. “No, the poem.”

Silence.

Harek meets my gaze. “There’s nothing there.”

Einar slowly straightens. His gaze moves past me, unfocused.

It all makes sense. I’m the only one who can even see it.

Meaning I shouldn’t read it to anyone. At least not until I know more.