LOGINIt wasn't full daylight yet when Damien came back into the Wolf Castle. He walked slowly. He passed the great hall. He passed the corridor. He passed the storeroom that had once held me — and stopped at the door for a moment.I was still following him. My soul had thinned to almost nothing — less than warmth, less than light. But I was still there. I did not know how much longer I would be. I followed him anyway, the way you follow a thing through to the last of it, because you have come this far and turning away now would be its own kind of defeat.He stood at my door for a moment. He did not go in. He just stood there, one hand not quite raised, as if the door were a thing he could return something to. After a while he pressed his palm flat against the wood. Then he lowered it.Before the Elf guards had carried Lyra away, she had left something on the threshold: a single light-wing, pulled loose from the Luna gown. Mine. Damien crouched, picked it up. He held it in his palm for a mom
Sera knelt beside me. She caught my half-translucent hand and spoke to Damien."Damien Thorne. Listen to me. Father told you, before he died — the Thorne line carries a debt that can never be repaid. You always thought it was a debt of kindness. It wasn't. It was a debt of blood.""When you were seven and the curse hit you, Father took you into the Elf Forest. To Elara's father. Elara's father told him: there is no true antidote for the bloodline poison. Only sacred Elf royal blood can hold it down. But once that blood enters his veins, the elf can never take it back. That elf is bound to him for life. Father knelt down and asked: is there any elf willing to do this?""Elara was twelve. She said — I will. Her father wept. He cut open her wrist himself. Seven bowls. Seven days, seven nights."Sera's tears fell on the back of my translucent hand."This whole year, you've held her in that dungeon. You beat her. You whipped her. You humiliated her. She did not fight back, not once. Because
At that exact moment — upstairs, Damien was holding his son.He looked down at the child, and then he froze. He raised one hand and pressed it to his own chest — not the child's. His own.He felt it. The thread he had thought was severed was burning, drawing back inward. He shoved the child into the Beta's arms, turned, and crashed down the stairs.He punched the cage door open and threw himself in front of me. His face was bloodless. His eyes were threaded with red. He reached for me — his hand passed through my body.Then I saw it in his eyes — the spark of hope. He still thought I could be saved. He still thought there was time. He thought he had only to come down here and call my name once, Elara, and I would do what I had always done — cry, and forgive him.I looked at him. I said nothing. Let him wait. Let him stand there and feel it — what it is like to want someone to save you and know they aren't coming. That was every day, every night, of my year.He dropped to his knees. The
The room emptied out. Just me and Lyra now.In my arms, she had almost no warmth left. The iron-poison was working its way in through the cuts on her back. Her lips, her fingertips, the rims of her ears were going translucent."Sister," she said, very softly, "I'm cold."I held her tighter. I wrapped the hem of the long red gown around her."Lyra, let your sister sing for you. Like when you were little.""Okay." She closed her eyes. "Sister… after you sing… will your throat hurt again?""No. This is the last one."I started the Soul-Binding Lullaby.The song has three movements. As the first line left my mouth, the candle flame leaned toward me. By the end of the first movement, my fingertips were going clear. By the end of the second, my wrists were dissolving into points of light, drifting upward — through the dungeon roof, through the cracks in the stone, toward the moon.Footsteps overhead, in the birthing chamber — quick, pacing, back and forth. Damien's footsteps. Eight years ago
Four cold-iron cages were carried into the room. Their bases dragged across the floor with a high, scraping sound that crawled up the back of the neck. Each cage held a person.In the last one was Lyra. My thirteen-year-old sister. She should have been in the deepest part of the Elf Forest — the safest place we had.Lyra saw me. She crawled to the bars. "Sister." Her voice was raw. Her eyes were threaded with red. Her body was a map of wounds. There was a cold-iron collar burn at her throat — the same one I had at mine. She had been wearing it for more than a day.Ophelia crouched beside the cage and gave a small smile. "Elf light-wings don't grow in fully until twelve. Your sister just had her thirteenth birthday, didn't she?"I lunged forward and caught the hem of Ophelia's gown."Ophelia, anything you want — my eyes, my voice, my blood, the rest of my life. Take it. Let her go. She is a child."Ophelia looked down at me. "I've used everything you have, this year. I want something ne
The next morning, the maid came to dress me — in a long red gown. The color elves hate most. Red is the color of slaughter and betrayal."There's a Blood Moon Feast tonight. The Luna asked for you by name."The Blood Moon comes once a year. It is the largest of the wolven festivals — and the most fitting night for executing traitors and offering sacrifices.The feast was set on the altar grounds behind the keep. The bonfire towered four stories high. Four hundred wolves circled it, drinking. Elves fear fire. Sixty feet from the flames, my skin began to blister. By the time I was standing beside Ophelia, my left ear had already started to peel.Ophelia came toward me in a long white gown, took my hand, leaned in close to my ear: "Do you like the dress? It was dyed in Nyssa's blood."Damien stepped down from the high seat. He stopped in front of me and said to Ophelia, "She doesn't look well. You're carrying — blood near you tonight is bad luck. Have her taken back below."Ophelia hooked







