CHAPTER 7

Retreat through the forest

The trees closed around them like dark ribs. Damp moss clung to Ava’s boots as she stumbled after Silas, the last of the ruins’ pale light still burning behind her eyes. Every step sent a dull throb up her calves. Her grip on the dagger was so tight her knuckles had gone white. It no longer glowed; it was just cold steel now, heavy and silent.

Rowan walked on her other side, limping a little, his shirt ripped open where the thrall’s claws had found him. He said nothing, but his jaw was clenched hard enough to crack a tooth. Mara brought up the rear, scanning the shadows with her knives out, hair damp with mist. Caleb hovered in the middle of the line, clutching his satchel as if it contained his heartbeat.

No one spoke at first. Only the muted slap of boots on wet leaves and the distant, pulsing call of the horn echoing through the trees. It came and went like a tide, low and mournful, as though something far away were breathing in time with them.

Finally Mara’s voice broke the silence, low but steady. “That wasn’t an ambush,” she said. “It was a test.”

Silas didn’t look back. “I know.”

Ava swallowed. Her mouth felt dry, metallic. “You’re sure?”

He stopped so abruptly she almost ran into him. “They could have overwhelmed us. They didn’t. They herded us into the circle and waited for you to act.” His eyes caught a shard of moonlight and glowed faintly gold. “Elias wanted to see what you’d do with the dagger.”

A shiver climbed Ava’s spine. “So I just showed him?”

“You just told him you’re ready to play,” Silas said, voice flat.

They started moving again. The forest grew denser, branches tangling overhead, moonlight fractured into thin slivers on the path. Ava’s legs ached but she forced herself to keep pace. The horn blew again, softer now, but closer. It made the leaves tremble.

“Where are we going?” she asked, trying to steady her breathing.

“Back to the lodge,” Silas said. “Your father’s old sanctuary. We regroup there, patch up, plan our next move.”

Rowan gave a bitter laugh that came out more like a cough. “Plan? We’re running blind.”

“Not blind,” Caleb murmured, his voice thin but carrying. “I have something.”

Ava glanced back. His face looked even paler than usual, but his eyes were bright with a secret. “What is it?” she asked.

He hesitated. “Later. When we’re safe.”

The trees pressed closer, their trunks like columns of a cathedral. Wet needles brushed Ava’s shoulders, leaving streaks of cold water on her skin. She realised she was shaking — not just from the cold but from the memory of what she’d done. The moment the light had burst from her hands, the thralls frozen, the mist recoiling. She had felt power moving through her like a river through a broken dam.

Her father’s voice echoed in her head: Trust the hunter, not the wolf. Sever or seal. She had chosen, but not consciously. What if next time she chose wrong?

“You’re bleeding,” Rowan said suddenly.

She blinked. “What?”

He nodded at her palm. A thin line of blood ran down from where she’d clutched the dagger too hard. She hadn’t even felt it.

“Keep moving,” Silas said. “We’re close.”

The horn sounded again, louder now, a low moan that vibrated in her ribs. Mara glanced over her shoulder. “We’re being tracked.”

“Let them,” Silas muttered. “They can’t cross the lodge wards.”

Ava focused on his back, the set of his shoulders. Even in human form he moved like a predator, silent, efficient, every sense alert. He didn’t look at her, but she could feel him aware of her every movement.

The path curved and rose. Through the trees a faint light glimmered — moonlight on grey timbers. The old lodge crouched at the far edge of a clearing, its windows dark, its roof sagging under the weight of years. Seeing it sent a painful rush of memory through Ava: running up those steps as a child, her father’s hand on her shoulder, the smell of pine and woodsmoke. She hadn’t been back since the night he disappeared.

Rowan let out a low whistle. “Still standing.”

“Barely,” Mara said.

Silas glanced back at them. “Inside. Quickly.”

They broke from the trees into the clearing. The lodge loomed larger now, a hulking shape of grey timber and stone. Its porch sagged, but the carved posts still bore faint traces of crescents. The air here felt different — heavier but calmer, like the pause between lightning and thunder.

Ava paused at the edge of the clearing, heart pounding. The horn had gone silent. The forest behind them whispered, but no shapes moved in the mist. She felt the wards of the lodge brush against her skin like static.

Silas turned, eyes sweeping over the tree line. “Move.”

They ran the last few yards together. Rowan pushed the door open with his boot. The hinges creaked but held. Inside was darkness and the smell of old pine, but also a faint trace of something warm, like ash after a fire. Ava crossed the threshold and felt a subtle pressure ease from her chest, as if she’d stepped out of a storm.

Silas shut the door behind them and slid the old iron bolt into place. “We’re safe,” he said quietly. “For now.”

Inside the Lodge

The door thudded shut and for the first time since Gray Hollow the world seemed to exhale. Dust swirled in the thin beams of moonlight falling through the high windows. The smell of pine, damp stone, and ash wrapped around Ava like a forgotten blanket. Her legs gave a little tremor of relief.

Rowan eased himself into the nearest chair, grimacing. The movement stretched the claw marks across his shoulder and fresh blood seeped through his torn shirt. “Hell of a night,” he muttered.

“Sit still,” Caleb said sharply, already digging through his satchel. He pulled out a roll of gauze, a small jar of salve, and a curved needle. “You’re going to tear it wider if you keep moving.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “Since when are you a medic?”

“I’m not,” Caleb said. “But someone has to be.”

Mara stalked the room, peering into corners, pushing open doors. Dusty bunks lined the far wall; a massive stone fireplace dominated the main room, its mantel carved with the same crescents as the ruins. She ran her fingers over one and it pulsed faintly. “Half the wards are still alive,” she reported. “They’ll hold till dawn.”

Silas set the dagger and Caleb’s satchel on the long oak table in the centre of the room. “We make this our base for the night. Check for breaches at first light.” He glanced at Ava. “You need to sit.”

“I’m fine,” she said automatically, though her knees wobbled. She dropped into a chair opposite Rowan and stared at her hands. They were shaking again, faint streaks of dried blood across her palm from where she’d clutched the blade too hard.

Caleb threaded the needle with practiced fingers, muttering to himself. Rowan hissed as the first stitch bit skin. “Couldn’t you at least offer me a drink first?” he grumbled.

Mara snorted and came back to the table. “You’d drink all of it and bleed faster.”

Ava looked around the lodge. Dusty but not abandoned. The carved beams glimmered faintly, the smell of ash and pine as familiar as her father’s study. She remembered running through this room as a child, chasing shadows, her father’s voice telling her to hush. Back then it had felt like a fortress. Now it felt like a tomb.

Silas was watching her. “He built this place for you,” he said quietly.

Her head snapped up. “For me?”

“For this day,” he said. “He knew Elias would move. He knew you’d have to choose.”

Ava gripped the edge of the table. “I don’t even know what I’m choosing. Sever or seal. Hunter or prey. It’s just words.”

“They’re not just words,” Silas said, voice low. “They’re the shape of what’s coming.”

Caleb knotted the last stitch in Rowan’s shoulder and wiped his hands on a cloth. “Speaking of what’s coming…” He reached into his satchel and drew out a folded sheet of parchment, edges worn and smudged. “I found this hidden under the false bottom of my father’s desk. I think it’s a map.”

He spread it on the table. Even in the dim light Ava could see the crescents drawn across it, the delicate ink lines connecting them like constellations. In the centre, a black sigil pulsed faintly, as though it absorbed rather than reflected the light.

“What is that?” Mara asked.

“Black Hollow,” Caleb said softly. “The seat of the first pack. According to the notes, it’s where Elias performed the ritual that bound the Blood Moon to his bloodline.”

Silas leaned over the map, eyes narrowing. “This is what he wants you to see, Ava. Not just the dagger. The path to Black Hollow.”

Ava stared at the black sigil. The ink seemed to swirl, pulling at her vision. “Why me?” she whispered. “Why not just kill me?”

Silas straightened slowly. “Because you’re not just a threat. You’re a key.”

Rowan shifted in his chair, wincing. “A key to what?”

“Either ending this or making it permanent,” Silas said. He tapped the sigil with a blunt finger. “Elias wants her to open the door he can’t.”

Ava’s stomach turned. “And if I don’t?”

“Then he takes the dagger and does it himself,” Mara said grimly. “With your blood.”

Silence fell. Outside, the wind rattled the branches against the windows. The horn blew again, faint and far away but insistent, like a summons through a dream. Ava realised her father had built this place knowing the horn would come someday — a refuge on the path to the inevitable.

She pushed back from the table and walked to the fireplace. Her fingers traced one of the carved crescents. It pulsed faintly under her touch, a heartbeat of old magic. She pulled her hand back quickly, heart racing.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered, not sure if she was speaking to Silas or to the ghosts of the lodge.

“You already did,” Mara said from behind her.

Rowan let out a pained chuckle. “She’s right. You sealed those things. Saved our asses.”

Ava shook her head. “I didn’t choose. I just reacted. What if I make the wrong choice next time?”

Silas came to stand beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off him. His eyes were human again now, brown and steady. “Then we adapt,” he said. “We’re not pawns unless we act like it.”

For a moment the lodge was quiet except for the soft hiss of wind under the eaves. Ava felt the weight of the dagger across the room, as though it were calling her back.

Caleb’s voice cut through the silence. “Black Hollow,” he said again, tracing the map with a fingertip. “Everything begins there. Everything ends there.”

Decision and Hook

The horn blew again, deeper now, its note threading through the cracks of the old lodge. Ava pressed her palms flat against the mantel and shut her eyes. The sound vibrated through her ribs, like a pulse she couldn’t escape. For a heartbeat she thought she saw her father standing across the room, head bent over a map, the glow of the crescent carvings on his hands. Then it was gone.

“I hate that sound,” Rowan muttered. He was slumped in the chair, shirt hanging open around the fresh stitches, looking both exhausted and defiant. “Like it’s calling my bones.”

“It is,” Mara said quietly. She stood by the window, watching the treeline. “It’s older than you think. Older than any of us.”

Caleb leaned over the map again, his fingers trembling. “It’s accelerating. The Blood Moon wasn’t supposed to peak for three nights. Now it’s rising early.”

Silas looked up sharply. “How early?”

Caleb swallowed. “Tomorrow night. Maybe sooner.”

Silas’s jaw tightened. He glanced at Ava. “We’re out of time.”

She turned from the fireplace. “What happens if it peaks?”

Mara answered before Silas could. “If Elias completes the ritual under a full Blood Moon, every bond he’s twisted becomes permanent. Thralls, packs, all of it. You won’t be able to stop him.”

Ava’s hands went cold. “So if we wait—”

“We lose,” Silas said simply.

Silence fell, heavy and oppressive. The lodge’s old timbers creaked like a living thing. Outside, the wind hissed through the trees.

Rowan broke it with a bitter laugh. “Perfect. Outnumbered, outgunned, running blind, and we’ve got less than a day.”

“We’re not blind anymore,” Caleb said, tapping the map. “We know where to go.”

Ava stared at the black sigil at the centre. It felt like a pit opening under her. Her father had hidden this map for a reason. He’d built this lodge for a reason. All of it leading here.

She crossed back to the table, the boards creaking under her weight. Her fingers brushed the dagger. It was cool now, but when she touched it a faint pulse of light ran along the blade, like a heartbeat under skin.

“Then we go to Black Hollow,” she said, surprising herself with the steadiness of her own voice.

Mara turned from the window. “On his ground?”

Ava lifted her chin. “On our terms. Not his.”

Silas studied her for a long moment, then gave a slow, approving nod. “That’s the Ava Cross I remember.”

Rowan snorted but there was something like respect in his eyes. “Guess we’re not running anymore.”

Caleb looked nervous but didn’t object. “It’s… it’s the only shot we have.”

Ava gripped the dagger tighter. “We’re done being herded.”

Silas stepped closer. His presence was solid, grounding, a counterweight to the storm gathering in her chest. “Then we move at first light,” he said. “We’ll need everything—wards, weapons, allies. Once we step into Black Hollow, there’s no turning back.”

The horn sounded again, distant but sharp, like a blade drawn across stone. The crescents carved into the mantel glimmered faintly in answer. Ava felt the magic ripple under her skin, a reminder that she was not just running from something — she was running toward it.

She looked around at the faces in the room: Silas’s steady gaze, Mara’s wary strength, Rowan’s stubborn defiance, Caleb’s nervous determination. They were all she had, and for the first time she wasn’t entirely alone.

Outside, the Blood Moon slid higher, staining the clearing red. Shadows lengthened across the floorboards like claws. The horn cut off mid-note, leaving a silence so deep it hummed.

Ava drew in a slow breath. “Then it’s decided,” she said. “At dawn we go.”

Silas’s mouth curved into a thin, wolfish smile. “At dawn.”

The dagger pulsed once in her hand, a flicker of light like a promise or a warning. Somewhere in the forest a single wolf howled — not a thrall this time but something older, calling her name.

The sound raised the hairs on the back of her neck. The others heard it too; even Silas’s face went still. Mara whispered, “He knows.”

Ava stared at the door, heart hammering. “Let him.”