Thrak’ven ves thelûn.(Sacred blood remembers.)
The forest leans in. The air thickens as it floods from me like a current—the memories I’ve been carrying. Every wound. Every cry. One final plea from every girl who never made it home.
I feed into him all at once, forcing him to relive what he did through their eyes.
His pupils dilate. He sobs as he claws at his own face, choking as he tries to escape memories that he never had to face—until now.
I don't have to rip his throat out; his own mind does it for me.
Silence settlesover the clearing as steam curls in creeping tendrils and blood soaks through the pristine snow.
I loom over his body, my chest heaving, the locket still clutched in my paw.
Saelûn ves’kai.(For my mate.)
This belongs to her. I’ll see it returned to her hands or buried with my own heart.
I will find her.
I will?—
“I knowyou're in here, motherfucker!” A furious voice cuts through the woods. “Come out, you coward!”
I go completely still.
That voice.
It’s her.
2
PANDA
Lumi-
Two years ago, I woke up on New Year's Day in a pool of blood. I remember blinking through the blur, trying to move my limbs and bracing for pain that never came. My heart thundered in my ears like a drum. Each breath felt hollow, like my lungs had forgotten how to work.
And then I remembered. Anna had crawled into bed with me last night.
My baby sister.
She made me promise her we’d stay awake until midnight. “Make a wish with me, Lumi,” she giggled, grinning at me over her shoulder when she realized I could hardly keep my eyes open. Her brown curls bounced as she playfully nudged my shoulder. “Exactly midnight. It has to be at the same time, or it doesn’t count.” I promised. We took our midnight selfie, just like we did every year.
I jolted upward and found her curled at my side, still warm. Her favorite panda nightgown was soaked through in crimson. Her hand was still reaching for me, fingers curled in mysweatshirt like she’d been trying to shake me awake. Her lips still parted, as if she’d died calling for me.
There was blood on her lips. There was blood covering her stomach.There was blood everywhere. And her locket—our grandma’s locket—was gone. Anna never took it off.
The police came. Flashing lights pulsed through the window: red and blue, red and blue, until I thought I’d be sick. Sirens wailed through the pre-dawn darkness. Curious neighbors stepped onto porches whispering like I couldn’t see them. I sat on the steps in a blanket someone draped over my shoulders, still wearing Anna’s blood, while officers moved through our apartment like ants dissecting a carcass.
Their voices blurred together—static and procedure.
“No sign of forced entry.”
“Looks like she knew them.”
“Probably let them in herself.”
I wanted to scream, wanted to grab them by their pressed uniforms and make them see her.My Anna. The girl who checked the locks three times before bed. Who startled when car doors slammed shut. Who made me promise to answer my phone no matter what time she called, because she was scared to walk alone after dark.
