Chapter 4: Into Rogue Territory

The moon followed them like a witness.

Liana’s shoes sank into wet soil as she stumbled after Riven, each step carrying her farther from the only home she’d ever known. Behind her, the faint glow of Draven territory faded beneath the forest’s broken horizon cold torches swallowed by distance.

Ahead, there was only shadow.

The air grew heavier the deeper they went, dense with fog and the scent of blood and wild earth. Trees pressed close, their twisted branches clawing at the sky like bones. This was the border—no, beyond it. The rogue lands. Where packs lost control and monsters wore human skin.

“How much farther?” she asked, voice hoarse from silence.

Riven didn’t answer immediately. He walked with deliberate ease, every stride confident, as if even the darkness dared not touch him. When he did finally speak, his voice was low. “We crossed the line ten minutes ago.”

Her pulse jumped. “Then we should turn back”

“You can’t,” he said simply, glancing over his shoulder. “You’re not welcome there anymore.”

His tone held no cruelty, only fact. The kind that left no argument.

The sound of a distant howl rose then—long, guttural, too near. Fear scraped at her chest, but Riven didn’t react. He just kept walking, the faint silver light threading through his dark hair like moonlit smoke. The wild obeyed him.

They moved through the forest in tense silence. The ground grew uneven, the wind colder. Shadows shifted at the edge of her vision eyes gleamed faintly between the trees, vanishing when Riven turned his head.

“Rogues,” she whispered. “They’re following us.”

“They’re watching me,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.”

Something in his voice made her believe it. The unseen shapes retreated farther, growling softly but never approaching.

“How do they know you?” she asked, clutching her arms for warmth.

“They remember what happened the last time they didn’t listen,” he said.

She didn’t ask again.

They reached a ridge overlooking a jagged ravine. Fog swirled below like breath from an endless mouth. Riven stopped there, surveying the abyss as if choosing their next route through hell. His stillness was unnerving—control layered over something primal, dangerous.

Liana dared a step closer. “Why did you help me? You don’t even know me.”

He turned then, just enough for the moonlight to catch the faint edge of a scar at his temple. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes softened with something almost… old.

“I told you,” he said quietly. “I’ve known you longer than you think.”

Her throat tightened. “You say that like we’ve met before.”

A pause. “We have. But not like this.”

“Then tell me what you mean,” she pressed, frustration breaking through exhaustion. “Tell me why everyone looks at you like you’re death itself and why you know my name!”

He studied her for a long moment before looking away, gaze lost in the ruinous horizon. “Some truths come with a cost you aren’t ready to pay.”

They descended into the ravine. The air grew colder, carrying the hiss of unseen movement. Liana’s instincts whispered danger, not from Riven, but from everything else. A stench of decay drifted past; she flinched.

Riven, meanwhile, moved as if the wilderness bent around him, the fog curling harmlessly at his feet.

“How do you do that?” she asked.

“What?”

“Walk through this place like it’s nothing. Like it knows you.”

For the first time, he looked almost amused. “It does.”

She didn’t understand and it scared her that she wanted to.

Hours passed. Fatigue clawed at her legs. When they stopped beside a crooked stream, Liana collapsed against a rock, burying her face in her hands.

“I don’t even know who I am anymore,” she said bitterly. “First, I’m unwanted. Now I’m—nothing. My wolf won’t even answer me.”

At that, Riven’s expression tightened, barely perceptible, but there.

Liana noticed. “What?”

“Call it again,” he said.

“What?”

“Your wolf. Try.”

She hesitated. Then closed her eyes, breathing deep, reaching inward like she’d been taught as a child—to the quiet place where her wolf should have lived, waiting.

There was nothing.

Only silence. Cold, echoing emptiness.

Her eyes flew open. “It’s gone,” she whispered. “I can’t”

Riven crouched before her, his presence grounding and terrifying all at once. “You feel the hollow space, don’t you? That isn’t weakness, Liana. It’s absence.”

Her heart pounded. “What are you saying?”

He met her gaze, unflinching. “Your wolf wasn’t born silent. It was stolen.”

The words hit harder than any rejection.

She stared at him, shaking her head. “That’s impossible. No one can”

“Oh, it’s possible,” he said quietly. “And whoever took it from you knew exactly what they were doing.”

A chill crawled through her veins. “Why would anyone take, why me?”

“That,” Riven said, standing again, “is the right question.”

She watched him, fear sliding into anger. “You’re not making sense. If you know something, tell me!”

He turned away, eyes scanning the treeline. “Answers are ahead. Not here.”

He tilted his head slightly. “The rogues are restless. They can smell what you are. We move before dawn.”

“What I am?” she echoed.

He looked back at her, eyes burning bright in the half-light. “What they made you.”

The night wind carried another distant howl—then two, closer, sharper.

Liana wrapped her arms around herself, her heart racing, vision trembling. “Riven, where are you taking me?”

His reply was barely audible beneath the howls. “To the one who stole your wolf.”

Her breath caught. “You know who it is?”

He gave a small, cold smile. “I always have.”

Before she could speak again, the howling cut off all at once—silenced like something had swallowed it. The trees swayed violently, the fog rising higher, thick and suffocating.

Riven’s hand brushed the hilt of the blade strapped to his back. “Stay close, Liana.”

Because whatever waited beyond the fog wasn’t going to let them pass quietly.