—GRANGES—

I had another dream that night. Or a vision. It was hard to tell anymore: the line between sleep and reality blurring until one melted into the other like colors on a painter’s palette. In this vision, there were two flames. One a vibrant gold. The other, a deep, indigo blue. They twined together like oil on water. They flickered and mixed, their light dancing and merging until a blade of radiant steel sliced through them, scattering them away to make room for a dazzling bright light.

I woke with a start, the remnants of the dream still shimmering at the edges of my thoughts. My head throbbed, unable to make sense of it. With a sigh, I shook off the lingering sense of unease and rose to face the day.

Claude and leaned against a low stone at dusk. The meadow stretched out before us, the grass turning lavender as night crept closer. We were accompanied by other people from Kent. The sheep milled about lazily, a few bleating softly, but otherwise, the evening was still.

Claude’s hand moved in a slow, gentle rhythm, fingers trailing through Belle’s soft fur. The sheep’s ears perked as he scratched behind them, her head resting contentedly in his lap. Beside me, Ember nestled close, her little body a warm weight against my leg. I ran my fingers lightly over the top of her head, smoothing the fine fur between her ears. A soft rumble of satisfaction came from her throat, her amber eyes half-lidded in contentment.

“Annette and Lydia are doing fine,” Claude murmured, his gaze distant as he stared out at the rolling hills. “Ma put up a bit of a fight before letting me leave. You know her enough by now to see how stubborn she could be.”

There was a hint of a smile on his lips, but the tension in his shoulders hadn’t eased since he arrived. I knew his family meant everything to him, and the possibility of losing them to those shadow direwolves weighed on him more than he’d ever admit.

We lapsed into silence, the stillness of the fields wrapping around us like a comforting shroud. The sheep grazed, oblivious to our presence, and the only sound was the soft whisper of the wind through the grass. After a long pause, Claude cleared his throat.

“Thank you for saving me back there.”

I stopped stroking Ember. I looked at him, the sincerity in his gaze striking something deep within me. I said, “Of course. I told you, I’ll do my best to make sure you’re safe.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. “When I was fighting them, all I keep thinking is that they would never get through to me. They will not harm my mother or my sister. Or you. I prayed to my father. I asked him to give me strength. And then my sword glowed blue and I knew I would be all right. Because you were near.”

The way he said it, the way his voice softened, made my heart ache. I’d seen too many people come and go, lost too many I’d dared to care about. But Claude? He’d always been there, a constant presence. Steady and unyielding. I didn’t deserve his friendship, his unwavering faith in me. Especially when I kept so much from him.

Images from that evening flashed through my mind: the direwolves’ fiery eyes, their teeth glinting in the dim light, the way their snarls echoed through the forest. “It won’t be the last time,” I murmured, dropping my gaze to the ground. “There will be more, if we don’t do something soon.”

Claude’s hand stilled on Belle’s head. “We?” His voice was low, almost wary.

I nodded slowly, choosing my words carefully. “The greater direwolves won’t stop now that they’ve found their way to Rothfield town. It’s like what happened at Harlan and Agate’s camp. They had the protection of the dark forest, but the town... it’s too exposed. The shadows will find their way there.”

He didn’t respond right away, just stared out over the fields, his brow furrowed in thought. We sat in the growing darkness, the only sound the rustle of leaves and the occasional bleat from a distant sheep. Then, the ground trembled beneath us—a faint rumble that passed through the earth like a shuddering breath.

Ember lifted her head, her ears twitching, and Belle pressed closer to Claude’s side, trembling. My chest tightened, a strange pull coursing through me that I couldn’t quite place. I winced, gritting my teeth as a sharp pain lanced through my chest.

“Ryne?” Claude’s voice was urgent now, his hand finding my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

I forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “It’s... nothing. Just tired. Again.”

He didn’t seem convinced, but he turned his attention back to Belle, soothing the sheep with soft murmurs until her shivering stopped. Then he looked back at me, his eyes narrowed with worry. “There’s something else,” he said quietly. “These quakes. They’re not normal. Rocks are sliding down the mountains, blocking the roads. Lord Bahram’s been having trouble sending messages and supplies.”

The mention of Lord Bahram made my stomach twist. Claude was getting pulled deeper into this, whether he realized it or not. “Is that why he summoned you once more?” I asked, keeping my voice steady.

Claude nodded. “They heard about my... performance against the wolves.” He shifted uncomfortably, his fingers flexing against his knee. “I think they want to test me. See if I’m worth keeping around.”

I frowned. “Instead of rewarding you for risking your life?”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Maybe this is their reward. Testing me, pushing me. If I survive, maybe they’ll consider me worthy of something more.” He paused, then added softly, “They want me to investigate the rumbling in the mountains. The direwolves come out at night, so I’ll be joining the soldiers in the town during the day. I leave tomorrow.”

My blood ran cold. This was happening too fast. He was slipping further and further into the role of a soldier. A soldier I’d never wanted him to become. He was so eager, so willing to prove himself, and it terrified me. My hands shook, so I tucked them inside my cloak, whispering a prayer for protection under my breath.

“Claude...” I struggled to find the words, my throat tightening. “Promise me you’ll be careful. And take Wilbur’s vitamins. You know, they’re supposed to be taken daily, not weekly. But with the limited resources we have now…”

“Goodness, does that mean I’ll get even stronger if I take that every day?” His smile was gentle, his gaze soft as he looked at me. “I’ll be fine, Ryne. I’ve got Belle, and I’ve got you watching my back. What more could I need?”

His faith in me, so absolute and unshakeable, made my heart clench painfully. I wanted to reach out, to hold him close and make him understand just how much I needed him to stay safe. But I didn’t. I simply nodded, swallowing back the fear that threatened to choke me.

“Just... come back in one piece,” I managed, my voice barely more than a whisper.

“I will,” he promised, his hand brushing against mine in a fleeting, reassuring touch. “You have my word.”

We stood there for a long time, the night deepening around us, each lost in our own thoughts. I watched him close the sheep enclosure, the firelight from the monastery casting long shadows across his face. And I knew, deep down, that no matter how much I wished to keep him out of this fight, Claude was already a part of it.

And I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

—CRYPT—

The stone walls of the crypt seemed to close in around us as I stood between my brothers, the shadows thick and cold. Candles flickered along the narrow alcoves, their dim light doing little to chase away the chill. Woodrow, usually so quick to joke, sat stiff-backed and grim, his face set in the hard lines of a soldier. Gone was the easygoing demeanor of the older brother I’d grown up with. In its place was a strategist, a warrior calculating odds and risks.

“We can’t defend them all, not every time,” he said. His gaze was steady, his voice low. He looked at me, then at Wilbur, as if weighing us both on a set of scales.

Wilbur shifted uncomfortably, clutching his satchel against his chest like a shield. The faint clink of glass vials echoed in the silence. The small herbs and concoctions inside his bag seemed almost useless now against the enemy we faced. I could see the doubt flickering in his eyes: whether he’d be able to do enough, whether he’d be enough.

Then another strong tug. “Hurry,” whispered the voice from my dream, faint and insistent. I closed my eyes, straining to recognize it, but it remained just out of reach. I could’ve sworn it sounded like Blake’s, except that I’d silenced him long ago.

A twinge of pain shot through my chest. I gasped softly, one hand clutching at my ribs as if to still the sudden ache. Wilbur noticed and leaned forward, concern etched into his brow. “What’s wrong?”

“A strange feeling,” I murmured, my voice tight. “Like something pulling at me.” I looked between them, the realization dawning slowly. “It’s... it’s like what we felt that first night. When the others splintered away.”

Woodrow’s eyes narrowed, suspicion darkening his expression. “Who–?”

“Ealhstan.” I stood abruptly, my senses tingling with the urgency of that voice. His deep voice, like an earthquake, like thunder. I focused hard on the tug, on the connection, and I followed it outside. “It’s Ealhstan. I can feel him—he’s near. But twisted. Warped by something dark.”

Without waiting for a response, I bolted for the entrance, my feet moving on instinct. I heard Wilbur and Woodrow scramble after me, their footsteps echoing against the cold stone. Outside, the wind bit at my cheeks, but I didn’t slow. I plunged through the grasslands, through the treeline, and down to the dark forest that led to Mount Lhottem. The air was thick with damp earth and the scent of moss. I dropped to my knees, pressing my hand against the soil.

The world shifted.

My mind plummeted through the roots, through the intertwined branches of the forest’s ancient trees, diving deep into the heart of the mountain. The chambers of Lhottem spread out before me, a labyrinth of twisting tunnels and echoing caverns. Some caverns glimmered faintly with deposits of chalky white gems and glowing crystals. But it wasn’t these gemstones that held my gaze.

It was the den.

The direwolves—larger and more feral than any I’d seen—moved restlessly, their fur bristling with a dark, oily sheen. At their center, a massive figure loomed. His fur was dark, nearly black, with eyes that burned red like embers in a dying fire. Fangs gleamed as he let out a low, rumbling growl that reverberated through the earth.

Ealhstan.

My breath caught in my throat. My brother’s gaze snapped to mine as if he could see me through the layers of stone and soil separating us. He let out a roar that shook the ground, a howl of hunger and rage. The cavern walls trembled, stones tumbling down in clouds of dust. The sound reverberated up through the roots, out into the forest, and finally to where I knelt.

“Ealhstan,” I whispered, the word a broken prayer on my lips. I could feel his anguish, his isolation, and the terrible, consuming darkness that coiled around him like chains.

The vision snapped back, and I stumbled, my chest heaving. I clutched at Wilbur and Woodrow’s arms, my fingers digging into their sleeves. “It’s him. He’s not himself. The miasma has taken hold of him, twisted him into th monsters you become when famished.”

“Where is he?” Woodrow’s voice was steady, but his eyes were wide, the concern he rarely showed us brothers flaring beneath the calm exterior.

“Deeper into the mountain. The path is treacherous, twisting. I can find the way, but I need you both with me.” I swallowed hard, my voice wavering. “I’ll need to summon Gaelmar’s kindflame to purify him, just like I did with Ember. He’s surrounded with greater beasts, dripping with the miasma that corrupted him.”

Woodrow nodded slowly, his expression hardening as he thought of a solid strategy in his head. “We’ll need more than just the three of us, then.” His gaze turned shrewd, the soldier reasserting itself. “Harlan for his strength, Jerome for his archery. He’s nearly as good as Agate was. And we’ll take three of the best fighters.”

I bit my lip, fighting back a wave of dread. “No, don’t bring anyone else. I’ll bring Ember. She’s fast, and they’re weak to kindflame. If I can target the biggest ones, we might stand a chance.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Woodrow turned to Wilbur. “Think you can whip up some explosives? I’d rather be prepared.”

Wilbur nodded, a determined set to his jaw. “I’ve got plenty stock of the everbane flowers and fire opals. I just need to combine them and heat it with your flame, Ryne,” he muttered, already sifting through his satchel. “It’ll take time to process the flowers. They need to be carefully separated and purified. Then I’ll need to heat the opals to the point they turn white-hot, but not crush them completely. They need to burn bright enough to trigger the reaction with the kindflame.”