THE PROTOCOL

Nyx needed to get into the restricted archive before Corvus's curiosity led him to independently research Skinwalkers.

The old scholar had no malice—she'd seen that clearly in the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of ancient texts, in the reverence with which he handled the blood-stained book hidden in the walls. He was driven by pure academic hunger, the kind that made scholars forget that knowledge could be dangerous. But curiosity in the wrong hands was as dangerous as a blade, and Corvus was already asking questions that could get them both killed.

She'd spent the morning after their discovery in the restricted section watching him from a distance, cataloging his movements. He'd been unusually animated, muttering to himself as he cross-referenced texts, his spectacles slipping down his nose as he scribbled notes in a leather-bound journal. He was piecing together fragments, trying to understand the gaps in the archives. It was only a matter of time before he stumbled onto something that would make him a target.

"The restricted section requires the Alpha's blood," Corvus had told her when they first descended into the archive. The vault door was carved obsidian, warm to the touch, inscribed with symbols that pulsed faintly in the dim light. "Only the Alpha and the priestess had access. The lock is keyed to their essence."

Nyx had filed that information away, her mind already racing with possibilities. She had Caelan's blood running through her veins now, absorbed through the tether and their intimate connection. The question was whether Skinwalker-carried Alpha essence could fool a blood lock designed for the genuine article.

She'd spent the night testing the boundaries of her absorption ability, pushing against the edges of what she'd taken from Caelan. The stolen essence was there, warm and present, a constant hum in her consciousness. She could feel the pack bond through it, could sense the wolves stirring in their dens, could taste their loyalty and their fear and their love.

She could feel Caelan too, even from across the fortress. His presence was a steady warmth in the back of her mind, a reminder that she wasn't alone in this. But he was away on territorial patrol, dealing with border disputes that had been simmering for weeks. He wouldn't be back until nightfall.

It was the perfect opportunity. Or the perfect trap.

Nyx made her decision at midday, when the fortress was quiet and the guards were occupied with their midday meals. She slipped through the corridors like a shadow, her footsteps silent on the ancient stones. The fragment of Caelan's essence pulsed in her veins, guiding her toward the archive, toward the vault that held the secrets she needed.

The restricted section was empty when she arrived, Corvus having been called away to settle a dispute over a missing manuscript. The vault door loomed before her, its obsidian surface smooth and dark, the inscribed symbols pulsing with a faint, rhythmic glow.

Nyx pressed her palm flat against the surface and pushed Caelan's stolen Alpha essence to the surface.

Pain erupted through her hand as the lock read her. It felt like fire spreading through her veins, like something was reaching inside her and examining her very soul. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stay still, to keep her hand pressed against the obsidian.

Three agonizing seconds.

Then the door ground open.

Nyx stumbled backward, gasping, her hand throbbing with residual pain. The symbols on the vault door had gone dark, their glow extinguished. She'd passed the test. The Skinwalker-carried Alpha essence had fooled the blood lock.

Inside the vault, rows of bone-bound texts older than the pack itself lined the shelves. Some were written on parchment that crumbled at the edges, others on leather that had been cured with techniques long forgotten. The air was cold and dry, the temperature carefully controlled to preserve the ancient materials.

Nyx moved through the vault slowly, her eyes scanning the titles. Most were in languages she couldn't read, scripts that predated the Common Tongue. But there was one section that caught her attention—a cluster of volumes that were newer than the rest, their bindings still intact, their titles written in the familiar script of the modern era.

She found the Skinwalker protocol in the third volume she examined—a slim volume written in clinical military language, its pages covered in tight, precise handwriting. The title was unassuming: "Containment and Elimination Protocols for Non-Standard Anomalies."

Nyx's hands trembled as she opened the book. What she found inside made her blood run cold.

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Identification Methods:

1. Scent anomalies: Skinwalkers emit a distinctive odor when under stress, described as ozone and copper. This scent becomes more pronounced during absorption events.

2. Form instability: Skinwalkers cannot maintain a consistent form when subjected to silver or concentrated sunlight. Exposure will cause involuntary shape-shifting.

3. Memory absorption through touch: Skinwalkers absorb memories and essence through skin-to-skin contact. Subjects who report sensation of "being read" or "losing time" during physical contact should be immediately quarantined.

4. Vocal variation: Skinwalkers often struggle to maintain a consistent voice pattern, particularly when stressed or fatigued. Variations in pitch, cadence, and accent should be documented and reported.

Nyx's stomach churned as she read through the identification methods, recognizing each one as a vulnerability she'd exploited to survive. The scent anomalies, the form instability, the absorption—it was all there, documented in cold, clinical language.

But the containment methods were worse.

Containment:

1. Silver-infused chains: Wounds caused by silver healing slowly in Skinwalkers. Silver chains will cause ongoing pain and prevent absorption attempts.

2. Sensory deprivation: Skinwalkers require external stimuli to maintain form stability. Isolation in dark, soundproofed chambers will cause rapid deterioration.

3. Muzzle restraints: Skinwalkers' primary absorption method is through skin contact. Any exposed skin should be contained.

4. Dietary restrictions: Skinwalkers require significant caloric intake to maintain their abilities. Withholding food will weaken them.

Nyx felt her hands shaking as she read the containment protocols. The level of detail was horrifying—whoever had written this had spent years studying Skinwalkers, learning their weaknesses, developing methods to exploit them.

But the elimination section was the worst.

Elimination:

1. Fire: Skinwalkers cannot copy what has been burned. Fire is the preferred method of elimination.

2. Decapitation: The absorption ability is centered in the brain. Removal of the head will prevent any post-mortem absorption.

3. Silver weapons: Silver-coated blades will cause wounds that do not heal, leading to eventual death.

4. Blood loss: Skinwalkers require blood to maintain their abilities. Sufficient blood loss will render them unable to absorb or escape.

The document was signed at the bottom. She recognized the signature from the histories she'd read in the library—Dominic Voss's grandfather, the man who had built the Obsidian Throne into a power to be feared. But there was another signature beneath his, one that made her blood run even colder.

"The Voice of the Moon."

The Moon Goddess. The deity that the werewolves worshipped, the divine figure who had shaped their laws and their culture. She had been co-authoring Skinwalker kill protocols for centuries, inscribing her approval on documents designed to destroy Nyx's kind.

Nyx forced herself to read the rest of the document, committing every detail to memory. The identification methods, the containment protocols, the elimination procedures. She needed to know what she was up against, needed to understand the full scope of the threat that surrounded her.

When she'd memorized the critical details, she replaced the volume carefully, ensuring it was exactly as she'd found it. Then she sealed the vault, the obsidian door grinding shut behind her, the symbols pulsing back to life.

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