Evelyne swallowed her surge of triumph as nerves took hold, tightening in her chest while they crossed into Nerathar. The scouting party departed shortly after rallying the pack and finalizing the plan. The remaining Glaciermaw wolves were uneasy, but Obren volunteered to go alone, unwilling to risk more lives. Meanwhile, Heidara discreetly adjusted the loop on Evelyne’s dagger belt, securing the flintlock pistol behind her back and beneath her cloak.
The selected group moved carefully through the snow-covered forest, the silence around them unsettling. Towering trees loomed overhead, their bare branches clawing at the black sky. Wind hissed through the trunks, carrying strange, whispering echoes. Evelyne tightened her cloakand focused on the steady crunch of snow beneath their boots, every step drawing them deeper into the unknown.
“Can we take a moment to think this through?” Alaric murmured, unfolding his map. The faint moonlight offered just enough glow to make out the markings as he traced a path with his gloved finger. “If I had to guess, Vaelora’s settled somewhere northwest, just past the iced river. It’s the only area that makes sense for a stronghold, since it’s far enough from open ground and close enough to the forest’s edge. There’s a pass here”—he pointed—“that could keep us out of sight. It’s our best shot at getting close without being seen. But pushing ahead might not be the wisest move at this hour. And since this area seems clear at the moment, I say we wait for daylight to explore the rest.”
Kaldrek nodded, his eyes scanning the treeline. “Then we head back, rest, and decide who scouts with us at first light.”
Evelyne wanted to object, but Kaldrek’s decision was sound. Venturing into unknown lands crawling with blood-seeking demons, without the safety of daylight, would be sheer madness.
They turned and began retracing their steps through the frozen woods. Evelyne walked beside Kaldrek, her shoulder brushing his arm. She spoke softly, careful not to disturb the hush of the forest. “Tell me about your father. You said he was once the alpha?”
Kaldrek’s steps faltered slightly before he caught himself. “He was… a good man,” he said at last, his voice almost reverent. “He pushed me hard, as any alpha would his heir, but never without reason. He was fierce, the strongest warrior I had ever known. I always thought he—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Evelyne, there’s something I need to tell—”
Before Kaldrek could finish, a gust of wind tore through the trees, and he stilled.
“What is it?” Evelyne asked.
Kaldrek didn’t answer. Instead, his head snapped toward Alaric, who was already scanning the map, brows furrowed. The air turned cold without warning, and with it came a dreadful hush as the forest seemed to freeze in place. Evelyne’s pulse quickened as Kaldrek’s arm wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her close. Then she saw it: black mist creeping between the trees, its tendrils slithering and curling like sentient shadows.
No, no, no.
It darted fast and low, moving over the snow with deathly purpose. The mist thickened into dark shapes, solidifying until monstrous figures stepped from the fog.
Noskari. Dozens of them.
Their forms flickered between flesh and smoke, their eyes gleaming like coals, teeth bared in jagged rows that caught the moonlight.
Kaldrek was the first to move. “Run!” he shouted, already shifting as the word tore from his throat. The pack scattered into motion, but the Noskari were faster as they descended like a wave. There was no escape.
Evelyne barely had time to unsheathe her daggers before being thrown to the ground, her body slamming against the snow and dirt. Sharp claws tore at her cloak. Pain exploded across her ribs as something heavy landed on top of her, pinning her down. A gnarled hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back.
Fury surged through her veins as she twisted the wrist with the most freedom. She had to act. She hadn’t come this far to be drained by a Noskari. With a desperate thrash of her left arm to draw its attention, she yanked her right hand free and drove her dagger into its side. The creature recoiled just long enough for her to suck in a deep breath and stumble backward, ribs screaming with pain.
Kaldrek let out a furious roar and launched into the chaos, claws raking through the Noskari. Holden and Ty shifted seconds later, joining the fight with unrelenting force, while Obren tore through the creatures savagely. But for every one they brought down, more surged from the mist. It was endless. And Alaric—where was he?
Her plan to find him shattered the moment a powerful hand closed around her throat and hoisted her off the ground. Evelyne gasped, a cry tearing from her lips as her vision blurred, dark spots dancing across her sight. Through the haze, she caught a glimpse of Kaldrek charging toward her, but a massive blow struck him mid-lunge, hurling him backward. He hit a tree with a sickening crack and crumpled to the ground.
“NO!” she choked out, thrashing, clawing, but the world was spinning, tilting.
The last thing she felt was the cold, and the sensation of being carried, fast, as if by the wind itself. And then—darkness.
Chapter 45
Cold stone. Iron chains. The stench of blood.
Evelyne stirred, her body screaming in protest as consciousness dragged her back into the nightmare. Her arms were wrenched above her head, shackled to a damp cavern wall, her wrists raw and throbbing. A slow, sickening drip echoed in the silence: the steady trickle of water seeping through cracks in the stone.
She forced her eyes open, blinking against the flickering torchlight.
They were all there.
Kaldrek, bloodied and bound in iron, his chest bare, deep gashes streaking across his skin. Holden, Obren, and Ty, shirtless as well, wore only thin cloths tied around their waists—likely thrown on them by their captors after forcing them back into their human forms. Alaric sat slumped forward, barely moving, blood dripping sluggishly from a gash at his temple. A surge of rage and fear crashed through her, mingling with the stabbing ache in her ribs.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement near the entrance of the cavern. A Noskari stood there, its jagged teeth bared in a wicked, unsettling grin. The firelight cast eerie shadows over its gray skin, illuminating the deep, raised scar on its forearm. The mark she had seen before.The Sigil of the Lost. Burned into its flesh like a brand, a permanentreminder of Vaelora’s twisted claim on those she had turned. Evelyne swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep breathing and stay alert.
Footsteps echoed, and the very air seemed to shift as a woman entered.
She was breathtakingly beautiful, radiating a commanding presence, with not a trace of fear on her face—even surrounded by bloodthirsty creatures. Evelyne knew exactly who she was. The realization hit like ice in her veins, twisting her stomach with a sickening mix of dread and disbelief, every instinct in her body screaming in warning.
