Se connecter*Isla*
Provisional.
It's not a rejection. It's not full acceptance. It's a maybe I guess. A test. My breath hitches. I'm in. For now.
Beside me, Liora lets out a small whoop of joy. "Look," she says, pointing to her own name. "Provisional too. We're in the same boat, Limpy."
I should be offended by the nickname, but coming from her it somehow feels loving, and it feels like an honor. A small, shaky laugh escapes me. "I guess we are."
"Looks like we're stuck with each other," she says, a genuine, fierce grin spreading across her face. "The Academy's going to regret this."
The night air is crisp and cool, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. Most of the other successful, provisional, or simply surviving applicants have retreated to the celebratory bonfires or the quiet of their temporary barracks.
Liora and I, united by our shared 'provisional' status and the general exhaustion that has settled deep into our bones, find a quiet spot near the edge of the grounds, a fallen log offering a respite from the chaos we just endured. We sit in a comfortable silence, the crackle of the distant fires a distant, muffled roar.
My shoulder is a dull, throbbing ache under its bindings, and my leg screams with every small movement. But beneath the pain, a current of something unfamiliar and sharp runs through me: possibility.
"Provisional," I say, testing the word on my tongue. "What do you think that means? Extra work? More tests?"
Liora shrugs, taking a bite of a dried strip of meat she'd procured from who-knows-where. "Probably means they'll be watching us like hawks. One wrong move and we're out." She chews thoughtfully. "It's better than a flat rejection. Gives us a chance to prove them wrong."
I nod, my gaze drifting across the grounds, past the sparring rings now dark and empty, toward the cluster of buildings where the second-year students are housed. Torches line their walkways, casting long, dancing shadows. A group of them is gathered outside one of the larger cabins, their laughter carrying on the night breeze. They move with an easy, confident grace, the elite among the elite. My brother, Ian, is probably among them.
And then my eyes catch on a figure standing slightly apart from the others.
He's leaning against a wooden post, arms crossed, a study in contained power. Unlike the others, who are loud and animated, he is utterly still, a statue carved from shadow. The torchlight catches the severe line of his jaw, the unruly shock of dark hair that falls across his forehead. He's tall, broad-shouldered, filling out the simple training tunic in a way that speaks of coiled power. There's an intensity about him, a palpable aura of danger that sets him apart even from the other warriors. He isn't just confident; he's lethal. A wolf among wolves.
Something tight and hot coils in my stomach. It's an instinctive, primal reaction, a jolt of pure, unadulterated awareness that has nothing to do with thought and everything to do with the basest parts of my being. My body recognizes him as something potent, something to be… reckoned with. It's a feeling that is both terrifying and magnetic, an attraction that makes no sense.
"Who is that?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper, my gaze fixed on him.
Liora follows my line of sight. Her entire demeanor changes in an instant. The casual confidence evaporates, replaced by a taut, wary tension. Her shoulders square, and her friendly expression hardens into a mask of caution.
"Don't," she says, her voice flat and sharp. She doesn't turn to look at me again, her eyes locked on the figure in the distance. "Just don't. Don't look, don't ask, don't even think about it."
My own wariness spikes at her reaction. Liora is not easily intimidated. "Why? Who is he?"
She finally tears her gaze away, turning to face me fully. The firelight in her blue eyes is gone, replaced by a deep, serious gleam. "That's Caelen Fennec."
The name means nothing to me. The surname, however, sends a chill down my spine that has nothing to do with the night air. Fennec. I know that name. Every wolf in every territory knows it.
"From the..." I can't quite bring myself to say it.
"The Cursed Pack," Liora finishes for me, her voice a low, grim confirmation. "Yes. The only one of them to come here an to be allowed to train as a warrior. And that was only because the Alpha council decided it was better to keep an eye on him than let him run loose." She glances back at him, a quick, furtive movement. "He's the reason the fang squad win all the academy game. He's ruthless, Isla. He doesn't just fight, he breaks. No one has ever lasted a full five minutes against him in the sparring ring."
A cold knot forms in my stomach. The cursed Pack. A name whispered in fear, a cautionary tale told to pups to keep them from wandering too far into the wilder lands. Their pack is fairly small, isolated, and afflicted by a curse that's said to rot them from the inside out. It makes their wolves unpredictable, unstable. Uncontrollable. They are pariahs. And he is the only one here… the only one I have ever seen.
"I heard... they're dangerous," I say, the words feeling inadequate.
"Dangerous doesn't even begin to cover it," Liora mutters. "There are stories. Things he's done in trials, in practice. He doesn't have morals like the rest of us. He fights to maim. He enjoys it. Look at him. He's watching us."
I hadn't realized, but my gaze had been fixed on him, a stupid, magnetic pull I couldn't seem to break. And now I see it. His head has turned, just a fraction. The torchlight catches his eyes, and they are not brown or blue, but a pale, piercing green, the color of moss in the deepest shade of a forest. He's looking right at us. At me.
A jolt, sharp and electric, shoots through me. It's not fear, though it should be. It's worse. It's a dark, traitorous attraction that coils in my belly, hot and shameful. My body reacts to that cold, steady gaze in a way it never did to Cedric's warm, pitying blue eyes. This is raw. Primal. And it terrifies me.
"Don't look," Liora warns, her own gaze now fixed on her boots. "Don't give him a reason to notice you."
Too late.
*Isla* The storm reaches Needle Pass before we do. Snow crosses the trail sideways. Wind tears at cloaks, pack covers, and any exposed opinion. By dusk, even Maeven agrees the abandoned toll refuge looks welcoming. This proves weather can accomplish miracles. The refuge is cut into the mountain beneath a shelf of black rock. Two rooms remain dry. A third contains half a roof and a dead tree. Nightshade claims the central chamber. Fennec takes the outer hall near the entrance. Sava chooses a sleeping place beside the secondary exit without explaining why. Caelen and I receive a former tollkeeper's room because Tomas says my knee needs space and Liora says nobody wants to hear Caelen pace all night.Caelen does not deny pacing. Four copper-set torches burn along the walls. Their flames gutter whenever the storm drives air beneath the door. A narrow mattress lies on a stone platform. Someone has left a throwing target carved into the opposite wall. Caelen checks the window slit,
*Isla* Joren screams until Rovan cuts the binding from his wrists. The rope falls away. He keeps screaming. Maeven kneels in the snow beside him, speaking his name until the sound breaks into breath. Vika wakes on the other side of the fire and crawls toward him. She does not touch him. Her hands remain open on the ground where he can see them. Nobody tries to restrain him again. Caelen releases my hand. He rises too quickly for his injured shoulder. Pain crosses his face, then disappears beneath control. He walks beyond the rock shelf and stops near the edge of the firelight. I do not follow. Not yet. Tomas finishes checking Joren and orders warm water. Torven takes first watch. Sava sits with the cipher under one palm, staring toward the western route as if Needle Pass might move while she sleeps. Snow begins in small, hard grains. I retighten my boot. The strap presses against swelling. My knee has developed a deep pulse of its own. My bruised ribs object whenever I le
*Isla* Caelen and I reach the front of the column at the same time. He takes the windward side. I take the inside line beneath the blackpine roots. "Predictable," I say. "You dislike wind." "I dislike you deciding that I dislike wind." "Do you want the windward flank?" "No." "Then my error has produced an excellent result." The trail narrows before I can answer. Blackpine roots push through the slope in thick coils, making steps where no sensible person would put them. Snow fills the gaps. My left boot lands carefully. My right tests. Caelen watches my feet. I watch his. Behind us, Nightshade escorts the first sledge through the trees. Torven and Sena hold guide ropes from opposite sides. Liora walks beside Bran. Tomas and Lark keep the medical and archive cases between them. Sava remains at the column's center with Miran's cipher strapped beneath her coat. Maeven and Rovan split their guides ahead and behind. Nobody walks alone. Nobody likes the arrangement enough to b
*Isla* The stone raven enters through the archive chimney. It falls rather than flies. Black wings strike the iron grate. Sparks scatter across the floor. The bird hits once, rolls, then stands on feet carved from a single piece of dark stone. Everyone reaches for a weapon. The raven ignores us. Its head turns toward Sava. Three short strokes mark its breast. The unfamiliar oathwright seal. Sava goes still. The raven opens its beak. A folded square of gray paper drops beside her boot. Then the bird cracks from throat to tail. Its pieces collapse into ash. "Do not touch the message," Tomas says. Sava is already crouching. She uses two metal pins to lift the folded paper onto Rovan's map. No smoke rises. No ward-light appears. Only a brown family mark shows briefly along one corner. Three short threads beside a stain. Miran's mark. Sava covers it with the route map before anyone else can see. Anyone except me. "What is written there?" Cedric asks. "Nothing yet." S
*Isla* The first Fennec oath-stone sits beneath a hearth. Of course it does. The archive chamber lies under the old meeting hall, reached by twelve narrow steps worn hollow in the middle. My left knee dislikes all twelve. The final step is high enough to be a personal attack. Caelen walks ahead of me so I can use his shoulder if I choose. I do not. He does not offer. We are becoming very skilled at irritating each other correctly. The chamber smells of cold soot and mineral damp. Shelves fill three walls, crowded with iron-bound record boxes. At the center, a round hearth has been dismantled stone by stone. The oath-stone lies beneath it. Unlike the buried boundary slab, this one is circular. Three carved rings surround a dark core. A crack runs from the outer edge toward the center, narrow at first, then wide enough near the second ring to hold a knife blade. Blue light breathes inside it. Bran kneels beside the stone with four copper clamps laid in a row. "I need the cr
*Isla* Caelen's key opens Maeven's kitchen. The house sits above the smoke-dark hall, built into the mountain with one wall of bare stone. A narrow side door leads to a room holding two benches, a scarred table, and a hearth broad enough to roast an entire deer. The fire is cold. The room is not abandoned. Bundles of winter herbs hang from the beams. Flour waits in sealed crocks. Six cloaks occupy the pegs near the main door. Someone has scrubbed the table recently enough that damp darkens the grain. Caelen stands on the threshold. His hand remains on the key. "Your house?" I ask. "My aunt's." "Maeven said yours remains." "The two upper rooms were mine. The side door was ours. Fennec houses grow together when families do." He says it in the past tense. I step inside. My left leg is stiff from the hall, and the raised threshold catches my boot. Caelen's hand lifts toward my elbow. "Help?" he asks. "Yes… please." He steadies me over the sill and releases. No mineral he







