Chapter 7

The iron doors to the cell block swung inward with a heavy, rusted groan, throwing us into the suffocating quiet of the guards' primary quarters.

The air here was different—it smelled of burnt tallow, stale tobacco, and the grease of uncleaned weapons. I led the way, my fingers wrapped tight around the grip of the stolen revolver, my eyes tracking every corner of the dark stone room. Behind me, the four wolves moved like large, padding ghosts, their bare feet silent against the gravel-strewn floorboards. Nova was breathing hard, her icy blue eyes darting toward the frosted windows, her fingers twitching with a raw, post-cage adrenaline.

“We need weapons,” Reese signed, her green eyes cutting through the gloom toward a locked wooden gun rack bolted against the far wall. “And we need to know where the hell they’ve been keeping us.”

I didn't waste time on the locks. I brought the butt of the heavy iron revolver down against the glass casing of the gun cabinet, shattering it into a spray of glittering shards. Inside sat three long-barreled borderland rifles and two leather belts packed with extra ammunition. I claimed one of the ammunition belts, buckling it tight across my hip over the torn folds of my white dress, and handed the rifles off to Reese and Anika. They took the steel with a grim, practiced familiarity.

“Ravage the desk,” I signed to Harlow, pointing my barrel toward a heavy mahogany table buried under a chaotic mess of ledger books and crumpled parchments. “Look for food vouchers, maps, anything.”

Nova kicked the bottom drawer of the desk open, a splintering crack echoing through the room. She reached inside and pulled out a thick, leather-bound cylinder. She unrolled the parchment across the wood, trying to squint at the faded ink lines and topographic markings in the dim light of a dying oil lamp.

I leaned over her shoulder, my brow furrowing as I tried to make sense of the strange, twisting boundaries drawn across the paper. The names were entirely foreign—nothing like the simple settlements surrounding my forest city.

Harlow pushed past my shoulder gently, her hands cutting into the lamplight. “Lara, please,” she signed, her expression taut. “It's upside down. This is—wait. How the fuck...”

She stopped, her fingers freezing over a dark, heavily shaded region bordered by a thick blue vein. She looked up, her face draining of what little color it had.

“Can everyone swim?” Harlow signed, her eyes darting between the wolves.

A cold shiver raced down my spine. The forest city had no deep waters; my life had been spent on solid ground, tracking through the thickets. “Not great,” I signed back, my throat tightening as the phantom memory of the heavy dampness returned.

Harlow ignored my hesitation, her hands moving in a rapid, tense blur. “There's a river we have to cross. If we make it across the currents, we will reach Illyen.”

Nova let out a sharp, gasping intake of air, a sudden, fierce spark of recognition breaking through her icy demeanor. Her hands moved frantically. “Wait. So we are currently in Avers Land?”

“It appears that we are,” Harlow signed back, her expression grim.

The three other wolves stood rigid, a collective, terrifying silence falling over them. I stood between them, looking from face to face, entirely in the dark.

“What is Avers Land supposed to be?” I demanded, my hand-signals sharp and aggressive.

Reese turned to me, her green eyes serious. “Avers Land is a lawless territory. Centuries ago, it was ruled by Vampires, but they no longer reside here. Now, nobody truly claims this ground. It is home to rogues, exiled witches, and every dark beast that isn't welcomed anywhere else. It is pure danger.”

“And Illyen?” I asked.

Nova’s chin lifted, a proud, desperate smile breaking through her scowl. “My pack. It’s the land of my people. It is the closest territory to this border.”

“Then we head there,” I signed, my decision final.

The preparation was instantaneous. The moment we stepped through the back door of the outpost and into the freezing, storm-lashed night air, the magic on our throats seemed to thin against the bitter wind, but the vocal seal remained completely ironclad. No one could utter a sound. The open sky was a wild, roaring beast, and our breath hitched in total silence.

Nova didn't wait. She let out a long, shuddering, soundless breath, her spine arching as the silver light of the hidden moon caught her features. With a series of wet, heavy cracks, her bones snapped and reshaped, thick black fur erupting from her skin until a massive, powerful wolf stood in the snow, her icy blue eyes gleaming in the dark. Beside her, Anika dropped to all fours, her body twisting into a sleek, chestnut-brown wolf, her jaws snapping mutely against the freezing sleet.

Reese remained human, her rifle slung over her shoulder. She looked down at my bare, trembling feet and the flimsy, ruined fabric of my white dress, which was already soaking through with ice. “I can walk with you there,” Reese signed, her green eyes softening with a quiet respect. “We can keep the pace steady.”

Before I could accept, a massive shadow shifted in the snow.

Harlow stepped between us. She looked at me, the lingering guilt from her weeks of conspiracy with Nova still painted across her pale face. She didn't use the corrupted dialect anymore. She used our code—the original, slow, heavy movements we had shared when the concrete felt like it was closing in.

“I can carry you,” Harlow signed, her hands steady against the freezing wind. “You are human, Lara. The snow will take your toes before we hit the river line. Let me carry the hunter.”

I looked from Harlow to the massive black wolf that was Nova, who let out a low, impatient huff of steam into the frozen air. The rules of the forest city were gone. The structures of my old life were buried under nine months of concrete. I nodded once, stepping toward Harlow as her bones began to sing their familiar, brutal song of shifting, preparing to bear the weight of the human who had set them free.