Chapter 12: The Man I Cannot Read

POV: GUINE

I had grown used to hearing every unspoken thought around me. Then Percival Wynthrone stood in front of me, and the world went silent.

The wind sweeping down from the jagged northern ridge was cold enough to bite through my heavy woolen cloak, but I kept my posture rigid as I stood beside the ancient stone boundary marker. Behind me stood my mercenary captain and two armed estate guards, their hands resting nervously on the pommels of their swords.

At precisely noon, four riders emerged from the shadowed pine forest across the valley, their warhorses stepping purposefully through the light dusting of snow.

At the head of the party rode Alpha Percival Wynthrone.

He was broad-shouldered, tall, and carried himself with an imposing, unyielding stillness that commanded the space around him. Dark hair brushed the high collar of his leather mantle, and sharp, amber-gold eyes scanned the boundary line with calculated intensity. Beside him rode his Beta, Lord Lancelot, along with two formidable garrison warriors.

Percival pulled his black stallion to a smooth halt three paces across the stone marker. He did not dismount immediately, nor did he puff out his chest or bare his teeth in a display of territorial dominance as Kael always had. Instead, his sharp gaze settled directly onto my face.

He dismounted in one fluid motion, handing his reins to Lancelot before stepping across the boundary line onto Ravenshade land.

"Lady Guine," Percival said, his voice deep, smooth, and resonant like low thunder. He bowed his head slightly, a precise, formal gesture of respect. "Thank you for meeting me on short notice. Allow me to offer my formal congratulations on claiming your ancestral seat."

I stared at him, momentarily caught off guard. I had expected a territorial demand, a cold assertion of Alpha authority, or at the very least, condescending skepticism toward a lone heiress. I had not expected him to treat me immediately as the lawful, sovereign owner of the estate.

Reach into his mind, my instincts urged.

Out of sheer habit, I focused my eyes on his face, narrowing my attention to catch the hidden layer of his surface thoughts. I prepared myself for the usual assault of hidden greed, condescension, or fear that I had grown accustomed to hearing from every man who looked at me.

I reached out with my mind, and hit a solid wall of absolute nothingness.

Complete silence.

No overlapping murmurs, no hidden motives, no quiet judgments, not even the faint background hum of routine internal dialogue. It wasn't just quiet; it was a total, impenetrable void, as if his mind were a fortress forged of solid lead.

The absence of sound was so sudden and absolute that it felt like a physical weight pressing against my chest. My breath hitched slightly in my throat. For the first time since my rebirth, my mind-reading gift was entirely useless. I could not measure the man standing in front of me. I could not anticipate his next move, nor could I sift through his secrets. I was forced to judge Alpha Percival Wynthrone solely by his posture, his eyes, and his actions.

"Alpha Percival," I replied, forcing my voice to remain perfectly smooth and composed. "Your letter spoke of urgent boundary concerns. I assume you did not ride to the ridge simply to exchange noble pleasantries."

A slight, almost imperceptible curve touched the corner of his firm lips. "Direct. I appreciate that." He turned slightly, gesturing toward the dense pine thicket twenty feet to our left. "If you will follow me, Lady Guine, I will show you the evidence you requested."

I motioned for my guards to stay back with his warriors, stepping into the treeline alongside Percival. The damp, shadowy woods were eerily quiet. The usual sounds of mountain birds and rustling squirrels had vanished, leaving a heavy, suffocating stillness in the air.

Percival stopped near the base of a massive, ancient pine tree, pointing down at the snowy roots. "Our patrol found this an hour ago."

I took two steps forward, looking down, and my stomach dropped into a cold, hollow abyss.

Lying motionless in the snow was a wild mountain fox. There were no bloodstains, no torn fur, and no signs of a predator's attack. But its eyes, once dark and sharp, were clouded over with a thick, metallic silver film that looked like liquid mercury frozen in death. A faint, powdery grey ash had already begun to form around its nostrils and paws.

The sight slammed into my mind like a physical blow, dragging me violently back to the horrors of my first life.

I had seen this exact silver clouding before. In the final weeks before the world burned, animals had died just like this in the outer forests. Then the water turned sour, the air grew toxic beneath the strange moons, and the silver plague began jumping to wolves and humans, turning whole packs into crazed, bloodthirsty beasts.

The Moonfall was coming. The fifty-day countdown was not a distant threat, it was unfolding right before my eyes.

A sudden, sharp wave of horror and memory washed over me. I pressed a hand to my chest, my breathing shallow, my eyes wide as I stared at the dead creature. I fought desperately to pull my mask back into place, forcing my facial expression into neutral indifference, but the sudden rigidity of my spine gave me away.

Percival’s amber eyes narrowed as he watched me closely, taking a single, deliberate step toward me. He didn't miss a fraction of my reaction.

"You look pale, Lady Guine," Percival said softly, his deep voice cutting through the silent woods like a knife. "Your letters insisted on evidence of an unknown threat... yet standing here now, you do not look surprised. You look horrified."

He leaned in slightly, his sharp gaze searching my face, trying to pierce the wall of my silence just as I had tried to pierce his.

"Do you recognize these signs, Guine?" Percival asked, his tone dropping into a low, intense query. "Do you know what is happening to these woods?"

I stared down at the fox, my heart hammering wildly against my ribs.

I did recognize it. I knew every gruesome stage of the plague that was about to devour our world. I knew that in less than fifty days, the silver ash on that animal's snout would spread to the mountain streams, poisoning the water supply and driving entire territories into madness.

I knew everything. I simply could not tell him how.

How could I explain a second life? How could I explain a death that hadn't happened yet, or a future written in blood and silver moonlight? If I told him the truth, he would think me mad, or worse, a dangerous harbinger of the doom he feared.

I opened my mouth to offer a carefully guarded denial, to claim it was merely shock at the strange affliction.

Before I could speak a single word, a low, wet rasp echoed from the snow beneath the pine tree.

I froze. Percival’s hand instantly dropped to the silver hilt of his broadsword.

Down in the shadows, the dead fox's eyelids snapped open.

Its cloud-covered, metallic silver eyes stared blankly up at the sky. Its jaws parted with a sickening crunch, and a thin thread of glowing silver mist slipped out from its mouth, coiling into the frozen air.

Beneath the snow, the cold, dead body jerked once, and began to rise.