The first sign was the footprints.
Barely visible.
Just impressions in the frost-kissed dirt around the barn's rear wall—leading toward the forest, not away from it.
The second sign was worse.
A fine silver powder scattered beneath the window ledge, glinting faintly in the rising sun.
Elara crouched beside it, heart in her throat.
She didn't need to test it. She knew that scent. That metallic tang, sharp and biting, like old coins left too long in blood.
Silver salts.
A trap.
Woven into the soil by practiced hands—either to weaken a Lycan who stepped through… or to mark the barn for future watchers.
She straightened slowly, glancing toward the edge of the woods.
Something—or someone—had been here.
Watching.
And had gotten close.
Closer than anyone should have.
When she returned inside, Kael was gone.
Her chest seized.
"Kael?"
No answer.
The hay was still warm where he'd lain beside her. His coat, normally draped across the saddle rack, was missing. The water basin hadn't been disturbed.
But in his place—
Laid atop a folded wool blanket—
Was a ring.
Small.
Made of bone, carved smooth, the inner edge etched with a single glowing rune.
She recognized it instantly.
A bone-ring token.
Old magic.
Rarely used.
Only among bloodsworn. Or the dying.
Elara's hands trembled as she picked it up.
It pulsed once against her skin—warm.
Not hot. Not urgent.
Yet.
He'd left it for her.
"If I don't come back," it whispered silently, "I wanted you to have something that hears your voice."
Elara waited all morning.
And most of the afternoon.
No sign.
No howls.
No return.
At first she paced, then sharpened blades she wasn't sure she'd need. At one point, she stared at her reflection in the silver water bowl until she couldn't recognize her own face.
Finally, she couldn't wait anymore.
She slipped on her boots, wrapped her scarf tight, and tucked the ring into her palm.
She didn't tell her sister she was leaving.
Didn't tell anyone.
The village had grown quieter since the last moon—more shadows, more closed shutters, more whispers about things that moved between trees.
But Elara didn't care.
The tracks behind the barn were already fading under the weight of wind and time, but she followed them anyway—until they disappeared entirely at the treeline.
She kept going.
Deeper.
Branches scraped her arms, her breath puffed in white clouds. Somewhere overhead, crows circled like omens.
She pressed on.
But as the sun climbed higher—
The ring began to tremble.
Not gently.
Violently.
It pulsed against her skin, like a second heartbeat. A wrong heartbeat. One that made her legs unsteady and her vision blur.
"Elara…"
The name whispered through her skull—not in Kael's voice, but in her own.
Repeated.
Over.
And over.
Until the ground spun and her knees hit earth.
She fell hard.
The ring burned her hand.
Her mouth opened in a silent scream.
And the world went black.
She woke in her bed.
The ring was gone.
Her sister sat beside her, eyes puffy with tears and exhaustion.
"You collapsed in the woods," she whispered. "I found you near the ravine. Your hands were glowing."
"Where's the ring?"
"I—I don't know. It wasn't with you."
Elara sat up, heart slamming.
"No," she muttered. "No, no—"
She jumped out of bed, tore through the blankets, checked her boots, her satchel—
Nothing.
The bone ring was gone.
Vanished.
And with it—Kael.
That night, she didn't sleep.
She didn't eat.
She didn't light a lantern.
She just sat in the corner of the barn, knees pulled to her chest, whispering his name like a prayer gone stale.
And then—
Just past midnight—
The ring returned.
It rolled through the barn's back door like a tossed coin, skittering across the floor, stopping perfectly at her feet.
Still warm.
Still pulsing.
Elara picked it up—
And it sang.
Not in melody.
In memory.
Kael's voice—breathy, fractured.
"I'm alive."
Then static.
Then: "Wounded. Two arrows. Silver-tipped."
Then: "Don't come."
And finally:
"You smell like safety. I followed that scent into hell."
Then silence.
The ring cooled in her hand.
She didn't wait.
Didn't pack.
Didn't think.
She bolted out the barn, coat whipping behind her, the forest devouring her before the moon could fully rise.
She didn't know where he was.
But the ring pulsed against her chest.
And her feet moved like they remembered the path her mind had forgotten.
She found blood first.
Dark streaks along a birch tree. Not enough for death—but enough to scare her.
Then: broken branches.
Scorched moss.
A claw mark slashed across a boulder.
Signs of a fight.
She pressed her hand to the blood.
Closed her eyes.
And breathed.
"Kael…"
Nothing.
Then—
A howl.
Far.
Deep.
Drawn not from hunger or anger.
But from something older.
Worse.
Loss.
Elara's knees gave out.
Because that howl…
…it wasn't a call for help.
It was a goodbye.