LOGIN
Saxa
The blinding pain is the first thing to register as my eyes begin to open. It hits me in crashing waves, something that swallows every other sensation. My vision is a foggy smear of color and shadows. My ears ring so loudly it’s like a fire alarm is screaming from inside my skull. Every inch of me aches—no, it burns—with a pain so sharp it feels like my bones have been snapped at every point then forced back into place a hundred different ways.
And no, I’m not just being dramatic.
What the hell is happening to me?
My breath catches as the view finally begins to come into focus.
Chains, thick metal cuffs clamped tight around my wrists. My arms ache from being suspended for—god knows how long. I can’t even tell if it’s day or night. There’s no light peaking in from anywhere, which means no windows.
Great.
There’s just a dim flickering torchlight licking at dirt-covered stone.
Fuck.
Am I locked in a cage? Or would it be considered a dungeon?
Wait, why the hell am I arguing with myself about what to call this place?”
Focus, Saxa.
Panic clutches my chest as I yank against the restraints.
No give.
The chains are bolted to the wall behind me, thick enough to hold back a bear. My wrists are already bruised and bloodied, and every movement makes the cuffs dig deeper into my skin.
I’m shackled, in a cage, underground.
I force myself to take a few ragged breaths, trying to keep the rising wave of hysteria from crashing over me. There’s dirt under my feet, not concrete.
Damp, cold soil packed beneath my toes. I scan the chamber, throat tight.
Tunnels, at least four of them. Hollowed-out holes carved into the eastern walls. They’re wide—easily big enough for someone to crawl through. Some disappear into shadows so deep that I can’t see the end of it.
Maybe they lead out, maybe I could escape through one. Maybe—
I stop myself, it doesn’t matter if they go somewhere. I’m not getting to them unless I get out of the chains first. And that’s not going to be easy.
There’s a large iron door across the room. Heavy, bolted. A thin crack of light spills in from underneath it, faint but real. That could be a way out too, or just another trap.
My pulse spikes again. The silence is thick—too thick. Not peaceful, but watchful. Like the darkness itself is holding its breath.
Then I hear it, the screams.
Far off at first.
Sharp and ragged, like someone being torn apart. My heart jumps into my throat. The sounds grow louder, closer. Until it echoes off the walls and vibrates through my bones. It’s not just someone crying out—it’s someone dying.
The chains rattle as I instinctively pull back, cowering into the wall. My breath comes fast and shallow, my eyes dart across the chamber.
And then I see them.
Eyes.
The same eyes that have been haunting me since I was a little girl.
Red-rimmed, glowing faintly from the far corner. Watching me. Studying me. They don’t blink, they never do. They stay, watching, waiting.
The rest of the thing is hidden in shadow, but the shape is all wrong. Too tall, too angular. Wrong proportions. It’s not human, and every instinct in my body is screaming at me to run—but I can’t. I can’t even move.
It doesn’t speak, it doesn’t need to.
‘You’re next,’ its eyes seem to promise.
And I believe it.
I start thrashing against the chains, my pain long forgotten, fueled by nothing but pure terror. The metal bites hard into my skin, and I barely register the warm trickle of blood running down my forearms.
Get out.
Get out.
GET OUT.
The red eyed creature takes a step forward. I can hear it now—its breathing. Raspy. Wet.Something drags behind it, scraping against the floor.
This is it.
I’m going to die down here, I’m going to die before anyone even realizes that I’m gone.
Gran doesn’t even know that I left the house. She thinks I’m in bed, curled up under the covers, sleeping off a late night with friends.
She’ll come up the stairs in the morning to find my bed made and room empty, and she’ll think I ran…
Tears prick at the corner of my eyes, I don’t want to die like this. Not in the dark, not without saying goodbye.
My head whips towards the sound of metal crashing against the stone, squinting against a sudden burst of light. The door I saw before was pried off the hinges, laying crumped against the floor, a bright light pours in. For a second, I think help has come. Rescue, a guard, something.
But the red-eyed thing screeches—an ear splitting, rage filled howl—and launches a body across the room towards the door.
A man.
Limp, bloody, lifeless.
The figure in the doorway doesn’t flinch.
But then I see it.
A wolf.
Or—something like one.
Definitely something massive. The only thing I can make out are the eyes, they gleam with something more than animal instinct—something like intelligence. Purpose.
It lowers its head and growls, deep and guttural, without another moment of hesitation the red-eyed creature bolts towards one of the tunnels, vanishing into the dark.
The wolf steps into the room, snarling, steam rising off its body in the cold night air.
I can’t breathe.
The wolf turns its head, and for the briefest second—just before the world starts tilting and the darkness swallows me whole—our eyes meet, and I swear to god…
It looks like it knows me.
The threadsSaxaEverything goes white.Not lightNot darkness.Just pressure.The moment Elias’ hand touches me the entire system screams. Magic ripping through the clearing like a storm breaking open the sky. The threads that had been tightening between us suddenly flare so bright that for one terrifying second I think they’ve snapped.Then—I see them.Not with my eyes.Not with the way I see the snow beneath my paws of people standing in the clearing.Something deeper opens.And the world changes.The valley explodes into lines.Thousands of them.Maybe millions.Thin glowing strands weaving through the ground, through the trees, through the bones of the mountain itself. They move like veins beneath skin, pulsing with slow ancient rhythm.Every thread humming with the same power.The same source.The same direction.The mountain.My wolf stumbles sideways. The sudden flood of sensation slamming into my brain so hard my claws carve trenches into the snow.I can hear people talking,
The First TurnSaxa“Oh, my children,” he says softly. “You already are.”For half a second the world holds perfectly still.Then the mountain answers.The vibration that had been humming quietly beneath our feet all night suddenly deepens, rolling through the valley like distant thunder. Snow shivers across the clearing as the earth trembles beneath our feet.My wolf freezes.Not from fear. From recognition.The sensation crawls up my spine and explodes behind my ribs like lightning striking bone.Something inside me wakes up, Elias gasps next to me.The sound is sharp enough to slice through the air.“Saxa—”His voice breaks. I turn my head slightly, ears flickering toward him.And my wolf sees it.Light.Not the soft glow his magic usually carries.This is different.The glyph beneath his skin is blazing now, the lines burning through the fabric of his shirt like molten metal.Elias stumbles backward in the snow.“What the hell—” Ingrid breathes.Another pulse rips through the grou
The Man in the SnowSaxaFor a moment after I saw the words, no one moves.Kasper is here.The room seems to be shrinking around us. The lantern light flickers against the walls, the shadows stretching and folding like they’re trying to listen.Outside, the figure stops moving.Just beyond the porch.The snow beneath his bare feet doesn’t even seem disturbed.My wolf surges hard against my ribs.The sound that leaves my chest isn’t quite a growl yet—but it’s close.“Don’t,” Eirik says quietly behind me.Too late.My hand is already on the door knob, feet guiding me to my father.The old wood groans when I yank it open. Cold air slams into the room, sharp and biting, carrying the clean, crisp, fresh smell of snow. With something else hiding beneath it.Magic.Old.Heavy.The mountain shakes the ground the moment my boots hit the porch.Behind me I hear chairs scrape violently.“Saxa—” Gran starts.But I’m already out. The snow crunching under my feet as I step off the porch and into th
Movement in the TreesSaxa“Eirik!”Her voice cracks down the staircase above us, sharp. Urgent.Every head in the room snaps upward. For half a second no one moves. Then Ingrid’s voice comes again, louder this time.“There’s something moving through the woods!”The words slam into the archive room like a gunshot. Eirik is already moving before she finishes her sentence. The chair legs scrape violently across the stone as he shoves away from the table.“Where?” he calls, halfway up the stairwell.“North side!” Ingrid shouts back, “I saw it through the window—someone’s watching.”My wolf surges instantly, claws scraping under my skin as adrenaline floods my veins.“Is it someone from patrol?” Gran calls out.“No!” Ingrid yells back.The single word echoes down the stairwell, too fast. Too certain.“Stay behind me,” Eirik mutters over his shoulder.Like that’s ever going to happen. I’m on the stairs before he reaches the top. Cold air slams into my lungs the moment we burst out of the
The Second HandSaxaNo one answers me right away.Elias is already pulling the ledger closer again, dragging the lantern with it so the light falls directly across the page.The paper crackles softly as he smooths it flat. He doesn’t look up. “Give me a second,” he mutters.The room holds its breath. Gran hasn’t moved from the chair she collapsed into earlier. Her hands are clasped so tightly in her lap the knuckles have gone white. Kaia steps up beside Elias, silent, watching.Eirik stays near my shoulder, one hand resting lightly on the table like he’s grounding himself.Elias flips the page back.Then forward.Back again.The sound of paper turning is suddenly the loudest thing in the room, finally he exhales slowly.“That’s… interesting.”What little is left of my patience snaps. “What?”He tilts the page toward the lantern and gestures with one finger. “Look at the ink.”At first I don’t see anything.But then, I notice the difference.The earlier entries sit lightly on the pag
What he ChoseSaxaFor a long time after Elias reads the date aloud, no one speaks.The lantern crackles softly against the stone wall. Dusts floats through the warm light like ash suspended in water. Somewhere above us the mountain hums faintly through the ground, the vibration so low it barely registers unless you’re already listening for it.And right now—I can’t hear anything else.The page still rests in Elias’ hand.The night we were born.Gran slowly lowers herself onto the edge of the stone table like her knees suddenly forgot how to hold her upright. Her face has gone gray beneath the lantern light. “No,” she whispers again.But the word doesn’t carry conviction anymore. It just sounds like grief.Elias drags a hand over his mouth, staring down at the spread of papers like they might rearrange themselves if he looks long enough.“They planned it, they planned all of it.” he mutters.Kaia hasn’t moved.Her eyes are locked on the bundle of witch-script documents still resting







