Chapter 4 #3
She laced her hand into mine as we walked back to the house.
I memorised the shape of her hand, the rhythm of her steps beside mine, and the way her braid swung against her back.
Soon all I’d have was the memory. Tears stung my eyes as I realised this would be the last time I’d hold her little hand. Gods, it hurt so much.
I was right about the muffins. They were already cooling on a rack in the kitchen.
Rueren darted forward for one. Eveldra swatted her hand; I glared hard enough to make her step back.
I was tired, grieving, and leaving my home forever.
I was not above giving her a taste of her own medicine before I left.
Kaydra handed her a muffin, and Rueren curled up at the table, already nibbling.
The back door creaked open and Blayren stepped in, hanging his axe on its peg by the door.
The smell of woodsmoke and wet bark clung to him, his shirt damp at the collar, his breath still hard from chopping.
He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes as he crossed into the living room.
The set of his jaw told me he was bracing for something.
I glanced at the Bloodstone knife by the sink, hesitated, then slid it into the holster at my hip before following him. He stood by the hearth, one hand on the mantel, his face turned to the flames.
I opened my mouth to speak. Kaydra and Rueren slipped past me and settled together on the sofa. Kaydra laid a hand on Rueren’s hand, her thumb tracing quiet circles; the same comfort I’d once given her when she was small and afraid.
Rueren snuggled into her with a yawn, already half-asleep. She’d endured so much, I was surprised her tiny body hadn’t given out.
I lingered in the doorway, rooted by something I couldn’t name. Gratitude, sorrow, maybe both. How could I begin to thank the man I owed my life to? No words would ever be enough, but something inside me urged me to try.
If I didn’t speak now, I might never get the chance again.
I gently cleared my throat. “Father, I …” My voice cracked, a tremor catching on my lips. I tried again. “Father, I—”
The words died in my throat when the dogs started barking again.
They weren’t just barking. They were fighting.
Rueren jolted awake with a cry just as Blayren yanked back the curtain and peered through the slats. A deeper growl rose—low, guttural, not one of our dogs. It thrummed through the floorboards like the house itself was shaking.
I lunged to the window, straining against the rain-smeared glass. Outside, blurry shapes moved in the shadows pacing just beyond the treeline.
I pressed closer, trying to get a better look, but Blayren grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back. He reached for the crossbow above the mantel, and loaded it.
His face was ashen when he turned to me, as if whatever was out there had hollowed him out. It terrified me more than the growls.
“Basement. Now! And don’t come out until I tell you.”
His voice left no room for questions. He shoved me and I stumbled back, catching myself on my cloak.
“But what’s going on?”
My words sounded small, drowned beneath the noise outside.
We stood frozen as he seized another crossbow from the wall, the metallic click of the drawn string making me flinch. His face twisted with anguish when he saw we hadn’t moved.
“NOW!”
Something in his eyes said he already knew what was coming.
It jolted us into motion.
Kaydra moved first, thrusting Rueren into my arms before pulling aside the hallway rug to reveal the trapdoor. Rueren cried against my chest and my arms trembled as I whispered whatever comfort I could find.
“It’s okay,” I whispered softly. “We’re just – we’re just going to play hide and seek. You like that game, don’t you?” She cried again, but I kept talking—anything to keep her from hearing the sounds outside. “We’re going to be okay.”
We had to be. The alternative was unthinkable.
Outside, swords clashed, dogs barked… and then came the howls.
The kind of howls wolves made. But wolves rarely came this far east.
Not unless something worse drove them from their mountains in the west.
Kaydra climbed down into the basement, and I quickly passed Rueren to her.
Her little arms clung to my neck until the last possible second.
The twins pushed past, scrambling down the steps with their needlework still in hand.
I was about to follow when the front door exploded inward, the hinges tearing off.
A massive dire wolf filled the threshold, its body wrapped in chains wreathed in vibrant blue flames. Smoke poured from its wounds instead of blood, and every movement tore new gashes into his black fur that sealed again before the ash could fall.
I’d seen wolves before, when they came for our livestock, but not like this.
Even through my terror, I slammed the trapdoor over my sisters, the thud vanishing beneath the creature’s snarl.
“Narya!”
My father slid a crossbow across the floor to me.
I caught it, aimed for the wolf’s chest, and fired.
The string bit my fingers as the arrow released.
But it only bent against the wolf’s shoulder before clattering to the floor.
That was when I understood: this was no ordinary wolf.
It was a lùnraith. A creature bound by powerful blood magic, forced to do its master’s bidding.
It bared its fangs in my face, then it turned its huge, scarred head to my father.
My father fired his own crossbow, but the beast lunged and struck before the arrow could take flight.
It slammed my father against the wall, its jaws sinking into his shoulder with a sickening crunch heard even over his screams. Then the world went still, and through the doorway stepped a face I knew all too well.
“Hello, petal.”