Chapter 22, Ember-Fell
Skarde
The air in Ember-Fell was crisp, vibrating with the low-frequency hum of the mountain’s heartbeat.
As we descended the final switchback toward the city gates, I felt the girl stumble again.
I didn’t turn around, but I could hear the frantic rhythm of her heart, a rapid beat that tasted of adrenaline and exhaustion.
Torin, I mindlinked to him. Go ahead. Clear the lower plaza. I want no eyes on her. She is too tired to meet people.
Understood, Torin replied instantly.
Beside me, the air shifted with a violent ripple. In a blur of movement, Torin was gone, his massive, slate-gray wolf form surging forward to vanish into the darkness of the lower tier.
I didn’t even look at Rhys as I sent the next command. Rhys. Get to the villa. Get the west suite ready and make sure the heat is up. She’s half-frozen.
On it, Boss, Rhys’s mental voice echoed back, laced with its usual irreverent spark.
Rhys didn’t wait. He shifted mid-stride, his human form dissolving into a lean, smoky-gray wolf with silver highlights. With a low, wicked chuckle that vibrated in his chest, he bounded away. His claws clicked once against the shale before he became a silver streak heading for the upper heights.
Wren froze. Her breath hitched as she stared at the empty space where both men had been just seconds before.
No words had been spoken. No orders had been given out loud.
To her, they had simply vanished into the dark on a whim.
The silence of the mountain seemed to rush in to fill the void, and she looked smaller than she had ten minutes ago, standing alone with me.
“It’s not much further, Wren,” I said, my voice low. I kept my tone level, stripping away the command-authority I used in the link. “It’s only downhill now. Stay close.”
She didn’t answer, but she stepped into my shadow. Her gaze was fixed on the back of my boots as we began the trek through the heart of the city.
We avoided the main streets, moving instead through the tiered walkways carved into the basalt cliffs. To her left, the five-hundred-foot drop into the valley was guarded by a heavy iron fence. To her right, shops and homes were built directly into the stone, glowing with amber light.
Wren walked like she was moving through a dream. Her head kept turning, her eyes snagging on the high-end digital displays and the Night-Stalkers in the distance who stopped and bowed their heads as I passed.
When the heavy doors of the villa hummed open, Wren flinched. The foyer was carved from black volcanic glass, the ceiling soaring forty feet up toward the stars. It wasn’t a home for her: it was a cathedral of stone and tech.
Rhys was already there, leaning against an obsidian pillar. He didn’t say a word, just gave me a sharp nod. Wren stood frozen on the threshold, her eyes darting around the dark, cavernous space as if looking for the trap.
“Rhys,” I said, my voice low. I didn’t need to give the order.
Rhys pushed off the pillar and moved toward her. He didn’t baby her. As he passed, his shoulder clipped hers, a hard, grounding brush of contact that forced her to focus on him.
“Follow me, ghost pup,” he muttered, gesturing toward the obsidian stairs jutting from the wall like jagged teeth.
I stayed in the foyer, watching them climb. Wren’s hand was white-knuckled on the stone railing, her small frame looking fragile against the scale of the mountain rock. She looked like a stray pearl dropped into a charcoal pit.
Just as she reached the top landing, I called out.
“Rest, Wren. We will talk later.”
She paused for a heartbeat, her silhouette sharp against the glass ceiling, but she didn’t look back as she nodded once. She followed Rhys around the corner and out of my sight. I stood in the silence, listening. I heard the hiss of a door sliding open, then closed.