The following day, Odhran, Elian, and Marek reached the Mourning Peaks in the evening. While they walked the path, the trees had become thinner and shorter. The ground had grown harder. Then the snow appeared.

At first, it was just patches against the roots of the pines. Then it became a full layer covering the earth. By the time they reached the base of the first peak, the snow was deep enough to cover Marek’s boots up to his ankles.

Marek shivered. His cloak was thick, but it was not designed for this climate. He had been traveling through forests and hills for months. He had not prepared for snow. His fingers felt stiff inside his clothes. His ears burned from the cold wind that came down from the peaks.

Elian walked ahead of them. She breathed in deeply through her nose and let the air out in a long cloud of steam.

"Home sweet home," Elian said. She sounded genuinely happy.

Marek looked past Elian. In the distance, maybe two hundred paces ahead, he could see a large wooden cabin. The roof was covered in snow. It looked simple and solid, like a hunter’s shelter or a trapper’s base.

Odhran walked beside Marek. She did not seem bothered by the cold. Her face was pink from the wind, but her hands were hidden behind leather gloves.

They walked toward the cabin.

When they were about fifty paces away, men on horses appeared. The horses breathed steam into the cold air. The men wore armor that Marek recognized immediately. Silver steel plates over leather—a half moon emblem stamped into the chest piece and Helmets.

Lycanthria armies.

Marek stopped walking. He counted quickly. The men kept emerging from cover. Forty. Forty-five. Fifty. All on horses. All armed. Swords at their hips. Some carried crossbows resting across their saddles.

The captain rode forward. He stopped his horse fifteen paces from Odhran. The other soldiers formed a circle around.

Odhran looked around at the men. She did not raise her voice. "What are you doing on my land?"

The captain dismounted. He walked closer and bowed his head slightly—a gesture of apology but not of submission.

"I apologize for trespassing, mistress. We have come to take the young master," he said, pointing at Marek.

The captain reached into his coat and pulled out a rolled scroll. He untied the leather strap around it and opened it. He held it so Odhran could see the seal at the bottom—the king’s red seal.

"This is a decree from the king of Lycanthria," the captain said. "The young master is to be brought back to the capital immediately. Those are the king’s words and the king’s seal." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Odhran looked at the scroll. Then she looked at the captain.

"You must have ridden hard to make it to the Mourning Peaks in this weather," she said. "It is a long way from the border. You and your men must be tired. Would you like to have warm tea and stay the night? The cabin is small, but the barn has room."

The captain rolled the scroll back up and put it inside his coat.

"I have no time for small talk, mistress."

Odhran looked at Marek. Marek felt his throat tighten. He looked at the captain. The captain looked at him.

The captain spoke directly to Marek. His tone was firm but not aggressive. "It is necessary for you to return home. The heiress and your father have been through much to find you. They have not stopped looking. The king himself approved the search parties."

Marek shook his head. "I do not want to return home."

The captain’s jaw tightened. "Then I do not have a choice. I will have to take you against your will to fulfill my orders."

Marek stepped back. He moved behind Odhran. He could feel his heart beating against his ribs.

Elian had already pulled her bow from her back. She had an arrow nocked. The string was drawn back halfway. Her eyes moved from soldier to soldier, calculating.

Odhran raised her hand slightly toward Elian—a signal to wait.

She spoke to the captain. "We do not have to shed blood on my land. I hate to do this on a day like this. The snow is fresh. The air is clean. Let us not spoil it."

The captain scoffed. "Then step away from the young master. Hand him over. We will leave. No bloodshed. That is my offer."

Odhran smiled. It was a small smile. Not warm. Not cruel. Just certain.

"Well, he belongs to me now."

The captain moved back a few steps. He raised his hand and gave a signal. Some of the soldiers moved closer, drawing their swords. Their horses stepped forward in unison. The snow crunched under the hooves. The circle tightened.

Elian fired her first arrow. The arrow struck a soldier in the gap between his chest plate. The man fell from his horse. He hit the ground and did not move.

Elian already had a second arrow. She moved in front of Odhran. She fired. Another soldier fell. She was fast. Faster than Marek had ever seen anyone shoot a bow. Every movement was efficient—no wasted time. No hesitation.

Odhran closed her eyes. She stood still in the snow. Her hands hung at her sides. Her lips moved. A barrier appeared, blocking the men. She began speaking a language the men did not understand. The sounds were low and throaty. They came from deep in her chest. The words had weight to them. Each syllable seemed to press against the air.

"Gara, vok en’kar. Grun thol-zen vek marn en sorn. Rith varg en, thal en rithar or."

Elian stood close to her. She fired arrow after arrow. Any soldier who tried to ride close to the barrier was hit. Elian was Odhran’s shield. She moved around her in a small circle, shooting, reloading, shooting again. Soldiers shouted orders to each other. Horses reared. Crossbow bolts flew past, but none penetrated the barrier.

A heavy wind blew, and then men landed paces away from where they stood.

Odhran’s voice grew louder. The chant filled the clearing. She spoke of the earth beneath. She spoke of hunger and of swallowing. She spoke of the bones of the mountain and the cold that sleeps under the frost. Her hands rose slowly. Her fingers curled.

"Vara gara, grun thol-zen drae. Thal’sora."

The ground began to shake.

It started as a small tremor. Marek felt it through the soles of his boots. Then the tremor became a vibration. Then the vibration became a movement.

Soldiers looked down. Their horses stamped their feet nervously. Some of the horses tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. The ground under them changed. The snow shifted. The dirt beneath the snow cracked open.

Odhran spoke the final word. "Gara, vok en’kar dreth. Grun thol-zen, var nul’voren." Her voice echoed off the peaks around them.

The ground opened. A crack appeared in the earth. It ran in a wide circle around Odhran, Elian, and Marek. The crack grew wider. The earth split apart. The soldiers and their horses began to sink.

They did not fall straight down. The ground seemed to soften. It became loose and unstable, like wet sand. The horses kicked and struggled. Their legs sank into the dirt. The soldiers cried out. They dropped their weapons and grabbed for each other. They grabbed for the edges of the growing hole. But the edges crumbled in their hands.

The earth swallowed them.

Marek watched as men disappeared into the ground. The dirt closed over them. The crack sealed itself. Within thirty seconds, the ground was flat again snow settled on top of the fresh dirt. The only thing left were a few scattered crossbows and one dropped helmet.

The captain had not been inside the circle. He had been on the outer edge when the ground opened. He watched his men sink. His eyes widened. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He mounted his horse quickly, turned around, and kicked its sides. The horse raced away across the snow. He did not look back.

Elian pulled her bow and aimed at the captain’s back. Her fingers relaxed on the string.

Odhran raised her hand, calling her to stop. "No, Elian," she said.

Elian lowered the bow. "Why? He will bring trouble later. He will return with more men. You know this."

Odhran watched the captain disappear into the distance between the trees. "Someone has to bring a report to the king."

Elian shook his head. "That is still dangerous. What if they come back stronger? What if the king sends two hundred men instead of fifty?"

Odhran turned to face Elian. She looked directly into her eyes. Her expression did not change. But Marek saw something pass between them—a connection. Odhran’s lips did not move, but Elian’s eyes shifted slightly, as if she was hearing something.

"We wouod be gone by the time they return. I promise. We are finally close to what we want. We should take care of our guest first."

After a few seconds, Elian nodded."Okay."

The barrier she had built with magic collapsed.

Odhran turned to look at Marek. Marek was standing frozen in the snow. His arms were wrapped around his own chest. His face was pale. Not from the cold. But fear. His eyes were wide. His mouth was slightly open.

He looked at the ground again, where the soldiers had been. The flat white surface showed no sign of what had happened. No blood. No bodies. Nothing.

He looked at Odhran. Then at Elian. Then back at Odhran.

Odhran walked over to him. She reached out and took his hands. His fingers were shaking. She did not say anything. She just held his hands for a moment. Then she turned and led him forward toward the cabin.

Elian followed behind them. She put her bow back over her shoulder.

Odhran pushed open the door of the cabin. Warm air came out through the gap. She stepped inside and pulled Marek in after her. Elian came last and closed the door behind them.

She snapped her fingers, and the fire lit up in the hearth. Elian added wood from a pile next to the chimney. The flames grew.

Odhran sat Marek down on a wooden bench near the fire. She went to a shelf and took down a wool blanket. She put it over his shoulders.

"You are safe now," she said.

Marek stared at the fire. He did not utter a word.