Chapter 48
Feray
So much rides on us making it to the sleuth undetected.
I've cut down the number of wolves accompanying me—the original plan of bringing a larger group now narrowed to just ten or twelve personal guards.
It's a safer bet, though the weight of my responsibilities hangs heavier with each step.
The cabin we've set aside will house my guards while we work on getting the barn ready for the other hundred and thirteen to join us.
The plans may change yet again, but that's a worry for another day.
Entering the ice cavern feels like a strange homecoming, as if the cold itself is welcoming me back. The walls glisten with frost, reflecting Easton's light as he leads us through the darkest parts, his flames casting shadows that dance like memories on the walls.
I listen to the stories my pack-mates share—tales of my mother, of the kind of person she was, and of my father's antics during the holidays. Their voices echo softly, weaving a tapestry of a past I never knew. I feel both comforted and haunted by the fragments of a family that seems so distant.
We cross from one tunnel over the short snow divider into the cavern leading back to the forest quickly. This time, there's nothing we need to wait for.
Leaving the arctic is bittersweet.
A part of me feels like I've found where I always belonged.
Another part aches with the absence of Fi and her guys, and then of my aunt and her family.
The thought of shifting into my wolf's form once we reach the cavern crosses my mind, but it's pointless with that lake still ahead of us.
I'm not sure how we're going to pull that one off yet.
A warm hand lands on my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts. I turn to see Easton smiling down at me, his eyes bright even in the dim light. "Your inside voice is almost your outside voice," he teases, leaning close to kiss my cheek. "I was thinking about the lake as well. I have an idea."
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding and loop my arm with his, tension easing slightly. "I hope your idea is better than mine."
Easton shrugs, his grin widening. "I was thinking of shifting and flying over the water, trying to lure the fish to me. Draw them away."
I shake my head, staring ahead as the tunnel's end comes into view.
"I was thinking of freezing the water at the lake's edge so we can walk over the shallow side.
Maybe the cold would keep the fish away.
" My brows furrow. "But I don't know if my gifts will work down here—out of what you call the seat of my power. "
Easton squeezes my arm gently. "We'll figure it out, my flame. Together."
The cavern's mouth looms before us, and my heart skips as the first flicker of doubt seeps in. What if I can't harness the ice here? What if I fail? I shake my head, forcing the thoughts away, and square my shoulders. There's no room for hesitation now.
I glance down at the lake, noticing how the water level has dropped slightly, exposing a thin strip of sand along the shore—barely enough for one person or wolf to walk single file. The silver fish below dart and flash, their curious eyes on us, waiting.
"Khal, can you shift and get into the water as backup for me?" My voice is steady despite the nervous energy buzzing in my veins.
He nods, stepping out of the tunnel, stripping down, and handing me his clothes with his usual calm.
Then, with a fearless leap, he dives into the water, shifting mid-air.
The flash of silver scales against his massive basilisk form breaks the surface and sends a jolt through my chest. For a heartbeat, I stop breathing.
But then I see the fish impaled on his spines, and a laugh bursts out of me, easing the tension.
"I'll help lower you down," Diaval says, gripping my wrists with firm, reassuring touch.
Khal's basilisk form slithers along the edge of the water, keeping the fish at bay as my feet touch the sand. I look down at the narrow strip—barely six inches wide—and quickly form a plan.
"Khal, swim out about ten feet so I don't accidentally freeze you." With a nod, he glides away, giving me the space I need.
I dig deep, feeling the shift ripple through me, carefully keeping my clothes intact.
Once shifted, I dip two paws into the water and close my eyes, focusing on the memory of permafrost—how it feels beneath the tundra.
I draw on the strength of my pack, our history, our survival in the harshest of winters.
The winter in my veins turns my blood to ice. When I open my eyes, three feet of ice encircles me. I take a slow, steady step forward, watching water freeze beneath my paws. We need to feed me after this, I send to Diaval and Easton, my voice almost a growl as I forge a path across the lake.
"We've got it covered," Diaval replies, already helping my people down to Easton on the ice.
Khal stays close as I walk, the ice thickening with every step I take along the shoreline.
By the time we reach the other side, exhaustion pulls at me, but I keep moving.
Khal lowers his head, offering me the silver fish he caught, understanding how much this has drained me.
I take it gratefully, my body trembling slightly.
The fear that the ice might melt if I step off it lingers, but I push it aside.
Tell Khal to get Torben and the sled. The ice may not bear his and the cart's weight. I reach out to Diaval through the bond, my heart racing. He nods quickly and yells for Khal.
Khal's eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment, filled with concern, before he turns and dives back into the icy water, swimming swiftly toward the opposite shore. The exhaustion drags at me, but I push it away, focusing on the task at hand.
My pack-mates move cautiously, two by two along the shore, their paws slipping slightly but finding purchase on the ice. The fish have left the ice alone so far, but I can feel them lurking beneath, waiting. My muscles strain as I keep the ice solid beneath their feet, tension building in my chest.
On the far side, my mates work tirelessly to get the sled and its precious contents down to the lake. I can see Khal's basilisk form, enormous and powerful, ready to bear the weight that the ice might not hold.
Torben's bear shimmies awkwardly, its bulk shifting as it slides down onto the ice. I hold my breath, watching every movement, feeling every tremor beneath the surface. Then, with a grace that belies its size, Torben's bear climbs onto Khal's back, and they begin their perilous journey across.
I can see the fish now—dark shadows darting beneath the ice, their intentions clear.
They strike at every turn, testing the ice, testing me.
But I won't falter. Not now. Diaval and Easton flank the pack as they make their way around the lake's edge, their vigilance unwavering.
Exhaustion seeps into my bones, and my limbs grow heavier with every passing moment.
But I keep going. I have to. My pack is depending on me.
The first of my pack-mates reach the shore, their paws thudding softly on the sand as they pass me, creating space for the others.
Relief flickers in their eyes, but it's fleeting—there's still more to come.
A panicked howl pierces the air. Dorian.
I can hear the fear in his voice as he sees my legs locked, tension in every muscle betraying the fatigue I'm barely holding at bay.
His howl isn't just for me—it's for the pack, urging them to move faster, push harder.
Time is slipping through our fingers, and he knows I'm running out of it.
Khal and Torben make it to shore next. The moment Torben's paws hit solid ground, he shifts back, breath coming in quick bursts as he digs through the packs.
He's frantic but focused, hands moving with practiced efficiency as he grabs food.
He's in front of me before I can blink, holding out chunks of meat, his eyes pleading.
My body trembles as I bite into the raw flesh, swallowing it in two bites. It's not enough, but it's something.
Khal reappears, bringing more fish, dropping them near Torben to feed me. His voice is soft, almost trembling. "You can do it, little wolf. You're the strongest woman I know." There's a waver there, a crack in his usually steady tone. He knows I'm nearing my limit.
I force down more food even though it sits heavy in my stomach like swallowing stones. I turn my head, scanning the ice. The last of the wolves are about fifty yards from shore, with Diaval and Easton at the back, pushing them forward. But my body is betraying me.
My muscles start to spasm, sharp pain shooting through me as my legs give out. I collapse onto the ice, exhaustion seeping into my bones. My strength is draining, slipping away like water through a sieve. I'm so tired.
"Little wolf, you've got to get up." Torben's voice is thick with desperation. He's scared—terrified.
His fear cuts through the haze, but I can't move.
I want to, but I'm so close to burning out.
Every part of me screams to keep going, to push past the exhaustion.
But it feels impossible. The weight of the ice, the pressure of my pack's lives depending on me—it's too much.
I feel myself slipping. The terror in Torben's voice is the last thing I hear before everything fades.
The next morning.
My mind drifts between dreams and reality, the heavy fog slowly lifting as consciousness returns.
I feel warmth, the familiar strength of Torben's arms around me. At some point, I must have shifted back because I'm wrapped in a blanket, cocooned in his embrace. He's holding me so tightly, like he's afraid to let go.
Everything feels hazy, like I'm floating on the edge of a memory—not quite here but not quite gone either. I hear voices—soft, distant at first, then slowly coming into focus.
Khal's voice, gentle and filled with something almost like reverence, drifts into my awareness. "What she did was nothing short of a miracle." His words are like a tether, pulling me further into wakefulness.
There's a pause, a murmur of agreement, then Dorian speaks, his tone laced with awe. "She froze a quarter of a warm water lake. Stories of the winter wolves of the past never said they wielded that kind of power."
My body aches as I stretch, a low moan escaping my lips.
The movement stirs the others. A straw is pressed gently to my lips, and Diaval's voice, usually so confident, carries an edge of fear.
"My eternal, please drink. You need to regain your strength.
" His words send a ripple through me. Did I scare him?
It's a struggle, but I force my eyes open, accept the straw, and take a slow sip.
The cold water shocks my system, making me shiver, but it's welcome.
As it slides down my throat, I feel the coolness settle in my chest, soothing the rawness that lingers there.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I take a deep breath, savoring the way it fills my lungs, steadying my heart.
I made it.
We all made it.