Chapter 6 Sable
SABLE
Ihad to get this burning gone. The silver thread I’d worked on for hours wouldn’t hold.
I stared at the bowl of rainwater on my floor, watching my magic dissolve for the third time this morning.
The delicate work of scrying with silver magic required patience I didn’t possess today, focus that kept scattering every time the wind shifted and brought new scents through the gaps in my walls.
I’d never been able to use silver magic at will, though I knew it had the potential to unlock powers that I would need in the future.
Every time I rescued a Crux, I was pushing the limit of my skills.
If only I could really control the silver, I was sure it would change things for good.
Today, though, a week since this pain in my gut had started, a week since that regrettable moment with a soulless wolf, I didn’t stand a chance with it.
Something’s coming.
My wolf had been restless since dawn, pacing circles in my chest that matched the ones I’d worn in the rough wooden floor.
The Crux bond showed nothing unusual—seven consciousnesses scattered across three nearby states, all quiet, all safe.
Astrid hunting rabbits two miles east. Others sleeping or working or learning to trust the havens I’d helped them find.
I abandoned the scrying bowl and moved to the window, pressing my eye to the gap between the curtains.
Rain had been falling since midnight, turning the forest floor into black mud that would hold tracks and scents longer than I’d have liked.
Through the downpour, visibility extended maybe thirty yards before the trees swallowed everything in gray-green shadow.
Empty. Quiet. Normal.
Then why does my skin feel two sizes too small?
The hut creaked, a symphony of settling wood and dripping water I’d learned to read over the years of hiding here. Every sound meant something—wind direction, animal movement, the difference between raccoons and intruders. Today, the familiar noises felt off-tempo without really changing.
I moved away from the window and tried the silver magic again, this time focusing on protection rather than divination.
The threads formed more easily, weaving themselves into barriers that would alert me to approaching threats.
Even as I worked, part of my mind catalogued escape routes, weapon locations, the exact number of seconds it would take to reach Astrid through the bond if everything went sideways.
Always planning for disaster. Always expecting the worst.
The first time I felt this draw to protect—this instinct deeper than anything my wolf had ever known—was when I sensed Astrid. I was barely more than a kid. Sixteen, maybe seventeen, and stupid enough to think I could take on the world with my bare hands.
The Canisse pack had her, locked in the back of a van like some animal they were planning to parade around.
They didn’t know they had a Crux, but I did.
I could feel it in Astrid, even from a distance.
That spark, that quiet power. It was a hallmark of the Crux scent, for those of us who didn’t know how to mask it.
I didn’t think. I just acted.
The motorcade had been moving fast, too fast for me to keep up on foot.
I shifted, my wolf tearing through the trees.
When I caught up, I didn’t have a plan. It turned out, I didn’t need one, as my wolf instinctually knew the next step.
I lunged at the lead vehicle, sending it skidding into the ditch.
Shifting back, I tore open the van’s back doors and pulled her out before the rest of the convoy even knew what hit them.
She’d stared at me like I was some kind of goddess, her wide eyes filled with more disbelief than gratitude. And then, when we were far enough away that we could breathe again, she said something I’d never forgot.
“I’ve never seen an enforcer do anything like that before.”
Enforcer. Pieces fell into place with those words, my wolf preening as she acknowledged it too. I was an enforcer of the Crux pack.
Years of relative peace hadn’t softened those instincts. If anything, they’d sharpened them, honed by the constant awareness that safety was temporary and sanctuary was an illusion.
The footsteps on my porch proved me right.
Predator.
My wolf surged to attention, and I was moving before conscious thought caught up. Silver magic crackled around my fingers, ready to strike, while I mentally reached for Astrid through our bond.
Stay away, I projected, finding her consciousness focused on a successful kill two miles northeast. Whatever you sense, don’t investigate. Stay hidden until I give the all-clear.
Her confusion rippled back to me, but she’d obey. She always did when I used that tone.
“What a charming little cottage,” a voice called from outside. Female, cultured, with an accent that placed her nowhere I could identify. “Such rustic appeal. Really captures that ‘hermit chic’ aesthetic.”
I moved toward the window, but before I could peer through the gap, she spoke again.
“Love the foundation work. Built to last through all kinds of weather.” A pause. “All kinds of visitors.”
The casual observation made my blood freeze. She was evaluating my defenses.
“This is private property,” I shouted with a warning I hoped would turn her the other way.
“Oh, I’m certain it is. Wonderfully private. So private that most people would never think to look for anything important here.” Footsteps circled the hut with measured precision. “Clever, really. Though perhaps not as permanent as you’d hoped.”
My stomach dropped.
“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling,” I said.
“Selling? Oh, child, I’m not here to sell anything. I’m here to admire your handiwork.” I saw her silhouette pause directly in front of my door. “May I come in? I promise I don’t bite.”
The lie was so obvious it almost made me laugh. I pressed my back against the far wall and let silver magic build around my hands until the air itself hummed with potential violence.
“Thanks, but I don’t receive guests.”
“Such a pity. I’ve traveled so far to meet you.”
That’s when I caught her scent through the wooden walls.
Death. Stale and unclean. Magic that had been twisted, layered with power that left marks on everything it touched.
And underneath it all, something that made my Crux heritage pause.
Her intentions are entirely unreadable.
“I think you should leave,” I said.
“Should I? We have so much to discuss.” The door latch clicked, though I’d secured it with both a physical lock and a silver ward. “About family. About choices. About the interesting people who’ve been asking questions.”
The door swung open on its hinges, which shouldn’t have moved.
She was smaller than her voice suggested—not even reaching my shoulders—but presence radiated from her in waves that made my wolf whimper and retreat. Gray hair hung in braids decorated with objects that clinked and chimed with each movement. Bones, maybe.
Her cloak seemed to shift colors in the dim light, and when she smiled, her teeth were gray and slightly too sharp for comfort.
“There you are,” she said pleasantly, stepping into my home without invitation. “Even more interesting than I’d been told.”
She moved through my space with casual familiarity, examining my few possessions with the air of someone conducting an inventory. Her long fingers trailed across makeshift shelves, lingered on the tools I used for Crux work, paused at the small altar where I honored the Shadow Moon Goddess.
“Ah yes,” she observed, noting the specific arrangement of stones and silver implements. “Such interesting bloodwork you carry. Such unique heritage. You’d be a wonder in one of those DNA tests.”
My wolf snarled, recognizing the threat.
“Who are you?” I demanded.
“Most of your kind call me Mariyah.” She settled into my single chair without invitation, arranging her robes with theatrical precision. “And you, child, are exactly as fascinating as advertised.”
“Advertised by whom?”
Her smile widened. “People with excellent taste in dangerous young women.”
The words sent ice through my veins. If someone had been talking about me, describing me, giving information to creatures that moved through locked doors and spoke in riddles…
They’ve found me.
Without thinking, I shifted.
My bones cracked and reformed, silver fur rippling across my skin, which burned with magic and fury.
My wolf was built for speed and stealth, but right now she felt every inch the enforcer.
We launched across the small space, intending to pin this threat and extract information about who’d sent her.
Mariyah didn’t even blink.
One gnarled hand shot up, and a force slammed into me mid-leap. I hit the opposite wall hard enough to crack the wood, my wolf form sprawling among scattered herbs and broken pottery.
“Such enthusiasm,” she observed, sounding genuinely pleased. “Your reputation doesn’t do you justice.”
I shifted back immediately, ignoring the way my ribs protested. “What reputation?”
“The one that’s been growing quite impressively over the past few years.
Sable of the Crux bloodline. Protector of the lost ones.
The ghost who steals children from cages and leaves no trace behind.
” She tilted her head with mock admiration.
“Seven successful extractions in eighteen months. Quite the track record.”
My blood turned to ice. She wasn’t just guessing—she had details. Numbers. Information that should have been impossible for outsiders to acquire.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No? Then perhaps you can explain why certain parties have been so interested in your charitable work. Why they’ve been asking such pointed questions about a young woman with silver magic and protective instincts.”
Each word was like a trap closing around me. If the wrong people knew about my work, if they’d connected me to the missing Crux wolves, then there was no doubt.
The others are in danger.
“What’s happening?” I asked, abandoning any pretense of ignorance.
“I’m here to deliver a message.” She reached into her cloak and withdrew something that made my wolf retreat deeper into my chest. A silver pendant, carved with symbols I recognized but couldn’t read. “I occasionally break bread with those who’ve been watching your career with great interest.”
“I need to know what’s going on. Unless you tell me who exactly is coming for me, I’m not interested in your riddles.”
“Oh, you should be. Especially when they come with such pressing deadlines.”
Instead of explaining, she held out one weathered hand. Palm up. Waiting. She was offering for me to read her.
She knew something of my abilities.
Every instinct I had screamed against touching her, but curiosity won. I needed to know who’d sent her, what they wanted, how much they knew about the network I’d spent years building.
I reached out and grabbed her wrist, pouring my Crux ability into the contact.
Show me who you really are.
My power connected with hers, and suddenly I was falling through layers of consciousness that felt ancient beyond measure. I expected darkness—the kind of bleak emptiness I’d found in the Orion brothers. Instead, I found stars.
Stars.
Cosmic bodies burning in patterns that hurt to perceive directly. Power that existed in the spaces between heartbeats, in the pause between thought and action, in dimensions that mortal minds weren’t designed to process.
What is she?
“Curious little thing,” Mariyah said, and her voice carried harmonics that made my bones vibrate. “Most people don’t survive contact with what I carry.”
I tried to pull away, but her grip tightened with a strength that had nothing to do with her frail appearance.
“You wanted to see,” she continued. “So see.”
Knowledge flooded through our connection. Threading through the cosmic awareness, a warning that made my soul recoil.
They know where you are. Have always known. The only reason you’ve survived this long is because your work serves their purposes.
But purposes change.
And yours is about to be redirected.
“Meaning what?” I whispered aloud.
Instead of answering, she pressed deeper into our connection, sharing knowledge. It felt like swallowing winter wind.
Do not make me speak aloud. Take the girl and run. Tonight. Because tomorrow brings visitors you’re not prepared to face. Visitors who will no longer watch from the shadows.
Mariyah released my wrist so suddenly I staggered backward. She moved toward the door, then paused on the threshold. “Such a lovely home you’ve built. Pity you won’t be able to enjoy it much longer.”
“Wait—”
When I blinked, she was gone.
Gone. Vanished without trace, leaving only the lingering scent of starlight and a sensation that made my wolf whine with dread. I stood alone in my suddenly too-quiet hut, heart hammering against my ribs, while her warnings echoed through my skull.
Tomorrow brings visitors. Purposes change. Run tonight.
Through the Crux bond, I sensed Astrid’s alarm. She was already racing back through the trees.
Strange magic, Astrid’s voice said through the bond. Really strange. What happened?
Pack your gear, I projected back, already moving to gather our few possessions. We’re leaving.
Why? What’s going on?
How could I explain that something wearing the shape of an old woman had just delivered threats disguised as casual conversation? That “forces” had apparently been watching me, evaluating my usefulness, deciding whether I still served their mysterious purposes?
That all my work for Crux might be swept away by powers that I had been trying to evade my whole life?
Just pack, I repeated. Fast.
Whatever was coming tomorrow, whatever visitors had grown tired of watching from the shadows, I wouldn’t let them take Astrid.
I wouldn’t let them take any of the lost ones I’d sworn to protect.
The sound of approaching paws reached me through the rain—Astrid returning faster than expected, her golden wolf flowing through trees that suddenly felt less like a sanctuary and more like a trap waiting to spring.
Time to go.
Time to run.