A Dream, a Scream, and a Staircase

Silver burned.

It didn't kill fast and that was the point.

Underneath the pain, it first made you weak. Eventually it faded into something colder where giving up felt like common sense.

Nova hadn't stopped caring. At least not yet.

She hung by her wrists, boot tips scraping cold stone when her legs stopped shaking long enough.

If she let herself sag, the silver seared into her flesh. It'd been three days and her body was failing. There was a precise balance that kept her alive.

She adjusted her grip on the chains, clenching her teeth to keep from crying out. Screams attracted attention, and attention was expensive.

Invisible, she reminded herself. Be invisible.

Below the tower, steel rang against steel.

Training drills, too structured for a real spar. The young ones, then. Morning rotation. She heard a barked command, a laugh, and boots scuffing gravel.

She mapped it all in her head, the way she always did. Distance. Sound. Time. She could have walked the training grounds blindfolded, though she had never set foot on them. Sound told the truth if you listened long enough.

Her fingers twitched uselessly against the cuffs, where the silver had chewed the skin raw and burned lines that never healed properly. She swallowed, parched. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, a familiar companion she couldn't shake.

The next time she opened her eyes, she saw moonlight spilling through the narrow slit of a window near the ceiling.

Great. That meant four days hanging. Riven was busy, or drunk, or both. When he let her marinate like this, the torture always came in one dose instead of several.

The sound of footsteps caught her attention.

Someone was in the tower and moving with purpose.

On instinct, she held her breath. Every muscle went tight. She should be relieved. If someone was here, that meant she'd stop hanging in chains. But all she felt was fear. That meant Riven was about to cause her more pain.

A new scent crept into the air. It was warm, like the forest after rain. And a hint of eucalyptus threaded underneath. It didn't belong here.

Panic bubbled in her chest.

She forced herself to breathe, not wanting to pass out, even as her alarm bells were ringing. Whoever was coming, she would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her cower.

The footsteps stopped outside her door.

The lock groaned.

Then everything went black.

✦✦✦

Alpha Finric Shadowclaw had faced battlefields with less unease than the prospect of dinner in Ashbane Castle.

Jax Thorne, his Gamma, fell into step beside him without a word.

Taking the Ashbane Princess as his chosen mate would smooth borders and buy peace. It was the price of stability. So here he was.

The Ashbane formal dining room held a long table lit by rows of candles. Princess Meredith was already seated, smiling at Fin as he entered. In fact, she didn't look away at all.

Alpha Riven Ashbane sat at the head of the table, and their mother Velora sat lounged beside him.

Meredith had already managed to insult his pack once today. There was a chance it had been nerves, a poorly judged attempt at confidence. Gods, he hoped so.

The first course arrived. Soup.

Well, broth, technically, with hot water added in. The faintest suggestion of vegetables lingered somewhere in the distance, perhaps in spirit.

"I asked the cooks to prepare something simple," Meredith announced proudly. "I was told Shadowclaw men prefer uncomplicated meals."

Fin stared at the soup. Jax stared at Meredith.

Velora swooped in. "What my daughter means is that hearty, straightforward dishes suit warriors. She wished to honor your tastes."

"Yes," Meredith agreed instantly. "Exactly what I meant."

She had meant none of that.

A servant approached from behind to refill a goblet. Meredith recoiled, as if his presence itself were offensive.

"Do not hover near the Alpha," she said sharply.

The servant froze mid-step.

Riven released a slow exhale, clearly mindlinking Meredith.

"What?" she said. "Presentation matters."

She smiled and continued, unbothered. "I had scouts reporting every hour once you entered our territory."

Jax made a strangled sound, somewhere between laughter and a plea for rescue.

Fin blinked once. It was, tragically, the most emotion he had shown all evening.

Velora tried again, voice tight. "She only wishes to make a good impression."

"Yes," Meredith agreed brightly. "A queen must be prepared and informed. Unlike slaves and omegas, who can't manage the most basic tasks."

The word landed.

Fin's voice slid into Jax's mind.

Fin: There it is.

Jax: What? You don't enjoy being insulted by someone who thinks she's being helpful?

Riven clapped his hands together with the desperation of a drowning man. "Dessert!"

There was no dessert.

A servant sprinted toward the kitchens.

The pause stretched long enough to bruise. Meredith smiled serenely, as though this, too, were going exactly as planned.

Velora raised her goblet. "To new alliances."

Jax lifted his cup with a grin that had no business being there. "To surviving dinner."

The chamber they moved to afterward was smaller, darker, and did nothing to improve the evening. Fin didn't touch his drink.

That was when he caught it again. A trace of something on the air. He thought he'd imagined it earlier, a trick of nerves or fatigue.

It vanished before he could place it.

He turned, scanning what lay before him. Nobles in gold-threaded robes. Guards too young to carry scars. Meredith Ashbane pretending not to stare at him from across the room.

Riven launched into a monologue about troop numbers.

Jax's voice slid into Fin's mind.

Jax: If he inflates those numbers any higher, they'll float away.

Fin: Let them. With luck, he goes with them.

Fin endured only a few more minutes before rising. A guard stepped forward at once to escort them to their chambers. Jax fell in beside him.

Then it hit.

Vanilla and moonlight.

Fin stopped so abruptly the guard ahead nearly collided with him. The apology barely registered. His body locked, instinct exploding awake as his wolf lunged for the surface.

Jax halted beside him, nostrils flaring, posture sharpening as his wolf crowded beneath his skin.

This time, Fin knew he hadn't imagined it.

He inhaled once. Again. Gods, he needed more.

Jax studied him. "You smell that too?"

"Yes." Fin exhaled. "I thought I was losing my mind alone."

Jax let out a shaky laugh. "Good. Shared madness is comforting."

Fin drew in another breath and the scent struck deeper.

But then it was gone.

Snuffed out as if it had never existed.

His wolf snarled inside his mind.

Xeon: Find it.

But, there was nothing left to follow. Only stone and cold air.

✦✦✦

That night, he dreamed of a goddess standing in a silent field.

Her hair was the color of moonlight, almost white and glowing. Her green eyes lifted to his.

She was beautiful.

A single tear slid down her cheek. She looked at him with confusion, with fear, with a kind of wounded innocence that punched straight through his ribs.

His paws moved forward, desperate to reach her before anything else could.

"Who are you?" she whispered, voice trembling.

His heart lurched and he tried to shift to human form. Commanded his body to move, to rise, to change. Nothing happened.

His paws dug into the cold ground, scraping forward in desperation.

And then he saw them.

Tendrils of shadow creeping across the field.

It swelled around her like dark smoke.

Her breath hitched.

The shadows tightened and wrapped around her wrists.

She let out a high-pitched scream of agony.

He lunged. A wall of darkness surged up between them, slamming against him like a storm. His claws gouged the earth but the shadow would not break.

Her scream cut off.

Gold light erupted beneath his black fur, searching and refusing the dark's claim.

Everything went black.

✦✦✦

Fin jolted awake, sitting up in the bed. Sweat soaked his bare chest. His pulse hammered against his throat.

"Just a dream." He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

But it wasn't. He knew it in the same place he knew how to breathe.

His wolf spoke in his mind, ragged and anxious.

Xeon: Find her.

He tossed and turned for ten minutes, but the feeling gnawed at him.

Xeon: You always have a choice. The trick is figuring out the right one.

There was no choice. He would find her.

He rose abruptly, pulling on his boots. His body moved before his mind caught up, carrying him to the door. No shirt. Instinct didn't care about dignity.

Out the door.

Down the stone hall.

Past silent guards who knew better than to question.

Fin moved with purpose, each step confident, though he had no idea where he was going. His mind didn't know the path, but his body did.

The scent slammed into him again, full force. Vanilla and moonlight curled through the air like a summons.

He inhaled sharply and followed without hesitation. Each step faster than the last. His wolf paced behind his ribs, restless, breathless, and wild.

A narrow spiral staircase rose before him, winding into one of Ashbane's towers. Old stone. A place meant to be forgotten, not used.

Fin moved, swift and decisive, the urgency clawing through him. Every instinct screamed that if he delayed even a breath, something terrible would happen—something he could not explain.

Moonlight spilled through a high window as he climbed, illuminating the curve of the stairs. Doors lined the tower at intervals. .

Fin's hand closed around the final door handle.

It was locked.

Xeon: Kick it down.

Fin did not need the command. The instinct was already there, burning through him. He braced and drove his boot into the wood with Alpha force. The frame groaned but held.

Not enough.

He slammed his shoulder into it next, the impact jarring bone, but he didn't care. He hit it again—harder. The rusted lock screamed, cracked, and finally tore loose.

The door flew inward.