Stopping means remembering.
Remembering means breaking.
And I can’t afford to break. Not when they need—
The silence presses in, a living thing.
Then the scent hits me and steals my breath.
I freeze mid-step, every muscle locking down. I manage to pull myself together. My nose lifts, nostrils flaring as I pull the air in deep.
No.
It can’t be.
But there it is, threading through the cold and rot and emptiness like a lifeline I don’t deserve to grab.
Vanilla. Ozone. Heartbreak.
Her.
The others are saying something behind me—questions, maybe, or curses—but their voices blur into static. The world narrows to that single thread of scent, impossibly warm in a place that shouldn’t know warmth at all.
It’s probably another trick. The Void has fooled me before, dangled phantom traces of her just to watch me chase nothing.
But…
This time is different.
This time, the scent carriespresence. Not memory. Not ghost.
Real.
The wolf surges forward before the man can think to question.
I bolt.
Behind me, shouts—my name, sharp and urgent. Rhett’s voice, maybe Thane’s. But they’re already fading, swallowed by the rush of blood in my ears and the desperate, animal need tofind her find her find her—
The silver light veins through the darkness like roots guiding me home. The scent strengthens with every stride, pulling me like a leash I’d willingly wear for the rest of my life if it meant reaching her.
My paws hit stone that shouldn’t be warm. The air shifts, thickens.
And then the darkness opens.
A chamber.
Massive. Ancient. Obsidian walls rising into shadow, shards of light embedded like broken mirrors catching and throwing back silver glow. The air hums—not sound, not quiet, butpressure. Like the Ether is trying to wake but can’t quite manage it.
The silver veins converge here. All of them. Threading through the floor, the walls, pulsing brighter as they lead toward the center of the chamber. Toward her scent.
I move forward, alert, because I know in my bones I was never meant to be here.
At the center—
My legs give out.
Bree.
