I woke to silence. A different kind of silence than the night before—not threatening, not filled with screams. Just stillness. Cold, damp, yet somehow... calm.Will was still beside me, back against the wall, face turned toward mine. He wasn’t sleeping—I could tell. He was just... resting. Watching.

  I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to break what we had, that little bubble we’d created during the night.

  But reality was waiting outside.

  I slowly sat up. Gently. Carefully.

  “We should go back,” I said, though I didn’t want to.

  He nodded. No protest. He knew it too.

  We pulled aside the branches at the entrance. A pale, dim morning light seeped in. The cold hit us instantly—raw and still—and as we stepped out, it was as if the world was holding its breath.

  The forest was strangely quiet. Not dead—but silent in a way that said something had happened. Something big.

  We walked without speaking. Will first, me behind him. I knew we were both wondering the same thing.

  What’s waiting for us back home?

  And is there anything left to come home to?

  The walk down to the village felt endless.

  Will moved in silent, cautious steps ahead of me, guiding us toward the path, careful not to make any sound that could give us away.

  I followed every movement, every step he took, trying to keep my breathing as quiet as possible. The ground beneath us was covered in tracks—deep marks in the snow, broken branches, something dark here and there that I didn’t want to look at for too long.

  As we neared the village’s edge, Will suddenly raised his hand to stop me.

  I froze.

  He stood completely still, as if listening for something. I saw his jaw tighten, his eyes scanning the area ahead. Nothing moved. No voices. Just the faint wind rustling through the trees.

  We kept moving, slower now.

  The first thing I saw was a fallen torch.

  Then a shattered pot. A bloodstain by the house wall.

  “No...” I whispered.

  Will looked around, body tense. We passed a hut left ajar, the cloth in the doorway flapping weakly in the wind.

  It was like everything was still here—but nothing was alive.

  “Tracy,” he said softly, “stay behind me now.”

  I did as he said. Stepped carefully over what had once been a dining area. The bench lay overturned. Someone had left a scarf on the ground.

  Then we heard it.

  A cough. A movement.

  Will turned sharply toward the sound.

  And there—behind one of the huts—someone came into view, limping slowly. Bloodied, but alive.

  “Rex,” Will breathed, and I felt my knees almost give out.

  Rex was covered in blood, his chest bare and marked with deep claw wounds. Dirt and ash smeared his skin, but what scared me most was his breathing. His chest rose and fell in sharp jerks, like every breath hurt. His ribs bulged under the skin at unnatural angles.

  He stumbled forward a few steps before falling to his knees.

  “Rex!” I cried, rushing to his side.

  Will helped support him, placing a hand behind his back to hold him upright.

  “What happened?” I whispered, barely audible.

  Rex blinked slowly, his gaze flickering between us. He tried to speak but only managed a rasping sound. Then he coughed, and blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

  “We... tried to hold them off,” he said at last. His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. “There... there were too many.”

  “Who?” Will asked, though we already knew.

  “The dark side,” Rex answered, eyes dark. “They came from all directions. No warning. No time.”

  I bit my lip to keep from crying. “The others? Sac? Niva? Amelia?”

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  Rex slowly shook his head. “I saw Sac last by the great fire… he was fighting. Bleeding. But still standing.”

  He coughed again, wincing in pain.

  “Niva took the children... she led them to the old supply hut. I think... I think she made it.”

  “And Amelia?”

  Silence.

  Then: “I don’t know.”

  Something cold spread in my chest. Uncertainty. Fear. Anger.

  Will looked at me. His gaze was hard now. Focused.

  “We have to find the survivors,” he said. “Now.”

  Rex shook his head. “No... not you. Not her. It's you they’re after, Tracy.”

  “I don’t care!” I snapped, voice slicing through the air. “I’m not leaving them.”

  Will was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded slowly.

  “Then we do it together.”

  We helped Rex to his feet.

  He leaned heavily on Will, breathing hard and now and then pressing his hands to his wounded chest. I stayed close, watching every shadow. Every corner between huts felt like a trap waiting to spring.

  “We start at the fire,” Will said lowly. “If Sac fought there, he may have left tracks.”

  Rex nodded weakly. “Left side... that’s where I saw him last.”

  We moved carefully. I recognized the place, but it didn’t look like last night. The drums were broken, benches shattered. Ash from the fire lay black and cold on the ground. In the distance, a raven cawed.

  “Here,” I said, pointing.

  Some blood stains led from a wooden bench toward the forest behind the huts. I recognized the fabric in the snow—a piece of Sacra’s black shawl.

  Will picked it up, his jaw tight. “They took her. Or she vanished to lead someone away.”

  “She’s not one to be taken alive,” Rex murmured.

  We followed the trail. It was hard to track—snow had started to cover it—but Will was focused. He sniffed, listened, moved with almost supernatural precision.

  “Stop,” he said suddenly.

  We froze. Will raised his hand.

  A scent. Smoke. Not from the village fire, but farther off. Cleaner. Fainter.

  “Niva,” he said. “She used dried spruce to smoke out moisture—it smells like that.”

  We hurried that way, and after a few minutes we saw it—a low hut built between two stones, half-hidden by pine and branches.

  Will was first to rush forward, pulling the cloth aside.

  “Niva!” I called, hurrying after him into the hut.

  She sat there—pale, dirty, but alive. Alone.

  She looked up at us, eyes shimmering with relief. “You’re alive…”

  I fell to my knees before her and wrapped my arms around her. She trembled in my embrace.

  “I thought… I thought you—”

  “I know,” she whispered. “I thought the same about you.”

  I pulled back a little, looking her in the eyes. “The children?” I asked softly, dreading the answer.

  Niva swallowed hard. “Amelia helped me. She took the children and ran for the supply hut while I tried to lead them away. I thought it worked, but when I finally got there… neither she nor the children were anywhere to be seen.”

  Will stood silently nearby, arms crossed, gaze dark. It looked like he was holding himself together just for us. Rex had seated himself against the stone wall, breathing hard but smiling faintly when he heard our voices.

  “Sac?” Niva asked softly, almost whispering.

  We exchanged glances.

  “Not yet,” Will said. “But we will.”

  We moved on, past the hut and down a narrow path leading toward the old edge of the village. The ground was torn up in places. Torches lay scattered like someone had fled in panic. Will led the way, silent, body tense. Rex behind him, and I held Niva’s hand as she carried the youngest child close to her chest.

  Suddenly, Will stopped. I saw his body stiffen.

  “What is it?” I asked quietly.

  He didn’t answer, just stepped forward cautiously. Something lay on the ground, partly covered in snow. A body. Face turned away. A worn, dark sweater. A cane a few feet away. It couldn’t be…

  “No,” I whispered. “Will… is it…?”

  Will knelt slowly, turning the body.

  I held my breath.

  “It’s not Sac,” he said finally, voice low but steady. “It’s Luan. One of the sentries.”

  I exhaled, but it didn’t help. My heart still pounded.

  Niva knelt beside the body. “They’re starting to leave them out in the open. To scare us.”

  “It’s working,” Rex said hoarsely.

  Will stood, eyes hard. “We have to go to the river. Sac mentioned a hideout there. If he made it… that’s where he went.”

  We followed the brook downward until the trees thinned and the ground softened. A faint sound of water led us to a clearing—and there, by the riverbank, someone lay.

  “There!” I cried.

  We ran forward.

  It was Sac.

  He was lying on his side, unconscious, covered in mud and blood. His clothes were torn, but his chest rose—slowly, but it rose.

  “He’s alive!” I screamed.

  Will dropped to his knees beside him. “He needs care, but he’s strong. This won’t kill him.”

  Niva gripped my arm. “That means there are more.”

  “The children,” I whispered. “And Amelia.”

  We followed the tracks deeper into the forest. Distant voices echoed. Will signaled for us to stop. We crawled up to a ridge and looked down into a clearing.

  A camp.

  Torches. Armed guards. And in the middle—cages.

  I felt my whole body tense.

  There, behind the bars, small movements. Someone shifted. Children. Huddled together. Some cried. Others stared blankly.

  And Amelia. She sat in front. Bound. Wounded across the face.

  “They have them…” Niva whispered. “All of them.”

  Will pressed his lips together. I saw the fury in him, the fire growing behind his eyes.

  But before anyone could move, a new voice rang out.

  A powerful voice. Familiar.

  Sacra.

  Two guards dragged her into the clearing, hands bound behind her back, cane gone. She bled from one shoulder, but held her head high.

  The children stirred. Some tried to call out, quickly silenced.

  A man—dressed in black with a wolf pelt over his shoulders—stood before her. I couldn’t hear it all, just fragments.

  “…too much time… your days are numbered… the light dies with her.”

  Sacra didn’t reply.

  And then—suddenly, without warning—he raised his hand.

  A claw. A slash.

  Sacra fell.

  I gasped. Dropped to my knees. My body went numb.

  “No…” I whispered. “No, no, no…”

  Will gripped my shoulder.

  Tightly.

  “We will get them back,” he said. His voice trembled, but his eyes burned. “We will take everything back.”