She exhales shakily, then pulls me into a brief, tight hug. When she releases me, some of the tension has left her shoulders.
We bury the bodies the next morning.
The whole pack turns out for it, even the Alpha, an older man with wise eyes full of regret that he couldn’t prevent this. They dig four graves in the small cemetery at the edge of the territory, beneath the oak trees where Daciana says her grandparents are buried.
I stand beside her as the bodies are lowered into the ground. She is composed again, her face blank, but through our bond, I can feel her grief like a heavy stone in my chest.
When it’s over, and the last shovel of dirt has been thrown, people approach to offer their condolences. Daciana accepts them gracefully, but I see the strain around her eyes.
“Your other brothers,” an older man says. “Have you heard anything?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing. None of the neighbors have seen them.”
“They might be…” Artisem trails off, clearly uncomfortable.
“Dead and buried elsewhere,” Daciana finishes flatly. “I know. It seems the most likely scenario.”
But I hear the hope in her voice, the desperate wish that Marcus and Stefan are still alive somewhere.
The next day, Daciana goes through her parents’ belongings. I stay close, helping her sort through clothes and books and small mementos. Each item seems to cut her a little deeper, but she persists with quiet determination.
In the bottom of her mother’s closet, beneath layers of folded blankets, she finds a box.
“What is it?” I ask.
She opens it, revealing a blanket—old, faded, but lovingly preserved. Beneath it is a small necklace, the metal tarnished with age.
“A baby blanket,” she murmurs, running her fingers over the worn fabric. “But it’s so old. And there’s no smell on it at all.”
I take it from her, bringing it to my nose. She’s right; there is no scent, which is strange for something this old. But when I reach out with my magic, I feel something.
“There is a trace of you,” I say. “Your magic. Very faint, but it’s there.”
“Mine?” She looks bewildered. “But I’ve never seen this before.”
I examine the necklace next. It’s a pendant, circular, with an intricate design etched into the metal. The style is familiar. I’ve seen similar pieces before.
“This looks like a sigil,” I tell her. “A house mark or family crest.”
“What family?”
“I don’t know. But someone went to great lengths to hide these.” I hand them back to her. “Keep them safe. They might be important.”
She tucks them into her pack, along with a few other items she has decided to take. A journal of her mother’s, one of her younger brother’s favorite toy soldiers, her father’s pocket watch.
“There’s nothing more for us here,” she says, looking around the empty house. “We should head back to the palace.”
I nod, though part of me wants to stay, to keep searching for answers. But I made her a promise, and I intend to keep it.
As we prepare to leave, I glance back at the house one last time. Somewhere out there is a killer. Possibly someone with magic like mine, possibly a witch. Someone powerful enough to erase memories and bury bodies and vanish without a trace.
We’ll find them. Eventually.
But not today. Today, I keep my promise to Daciana and let the dead rest.
The portal depositsus in the palace courtyard, and I see Astra rushing toward us before we’ve even fully stepped through. She reaches Daciana in seconds, pulling her into a tight embrace.
“I’m so sorry,” Astra whispers, her voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry.”
