The quillburnedher. Even the feathers, which brushed her wrists, left the smallest red marks on her skin like she touched hot cast iron. In her anger, she ripped the parchment apart and sank to the floor.
The ground was cold, and she listlessly stared at the ceiling. Her grandmother’s image conjured in her mind.I need you, gran. Please. Oliver needs you. Help me. Like you did with that jar… I know it had to have been you.
If it came to it, Rem might just have to push through the burning and risk losing everything—risk her eyesight, her voice, all of it. If she could just mutterMurphy’s, it might help.
But that was something to be reserved when all the other options were exhausted. All Rem knew for certain was that she didn’t trust Fiona. She didn’t trust the witch’s words that she would keep Oliver alive, even if Rem succeeded.
But shedidtrust Ronan’s position as a leader. When Owen saw her injuries for the first time, a seed of genuine fear flashed in his eyes.
They feared Ronan. They feared what he would do to them.
Ronan was the key in this. She needed him. Looking at her hands, burned and spotted with ink, she tried to imagine having claws herself. Becoming a shifter was another key.
Fiona said Rem would lose her sight and voice, but a wolf didn’t need that. Once turned, she could hunt them down with scent and sound alone. Silvers were said to be stronger, faster, and more resilient than any wolf.
Rem finally got up, grunting from the pain in her leg and head.
I still have a goal.
I have to get my claws.
I have to somehow tell Ronan.
For that, she needed his time. She needed his curiosity.
Rem was far from giving up.
R O N A N
He hated beingthis far from home.
There were too many Alphas in these lands, too many wolves that were not loyal to him. And while he trusted most of them and even considered a few of the Alphas to be friends, something feltoff.
“Do you remember coming here with afi?” Suna asked.
They were in an underground section of the home, one that winded away from the estate through tunnels connecting to a man-made cave entrance. Old tools carved this stone from long before Ronan was born, widening the hard rock to make way for a large living area, equipped with doors and windows throughout the bedrock exterior.
Afi was the nickname for their grandfather, the first Alpha of Warden since the Great Purge.
A smile reached his eyes as he looked at a large, wooden desk.
“It even has some of his notes…” he reminisced.
There wasn’t much dust, as hardly a thing reached these caves, leaving everything well preserved. Candles lit the cavern, as many hours had passed since they first arrived. Only this working area, where afi spent most of his time, had windows. The rest of the cavern was too far into the bedrock for such a luxury.
A true den.
Scattered next to the desk, on a large wooden table, were rolls of parchment from what had to be over twenty years ago—before his grandfather died and Aldric took over—Icelandic scribbled on all of them.
Suna said, “Yeah, amma always says that afi spent too much time here back when Scarlet first formed, trying his best to secure alliances. I bet there're all kinds of notes—Ronan,look.”
He turned his head to glimpse Suna standing by one of the windows that moonlight poured into. Humans couldn’t rely on the moonlight for true illumination, but for his kind, they preferred it over any fire.
In his sister’s hands was a pelt so white that they had once lost it in the snow.
“That belongs on the floor, Suna.”
“I can pick it up if I want,” she said, although put it back on the floor, standing on it. “And stand on it, asshole.”
