She’d been restless for over an hour.

He’d felt the shift in her breathing first, that shallow, uneven rhythm that always gave her away. Then came the faint twitch of her fingers against his side. A soft, broken sound from the back of her throat. The kind of noise that made his whole body go still—every nerve honed to her.

Lyra was dreaming. And it wasn’t good. He didn’t wake her. Not yet. Sometimes she came out of them on her own. But he stayed close—watching, waiting, his hand resting gently on her spine like a tether. Her brow furrowed, and something inside him clenched.

She whimpered.

That did it.

“Lyra.” His voice was low, steady, trying not to startle her as he sat up beside her. “Lyra—hey, you’re okay. Wake up, baby. I’ve got you.”

She bolted upright, panic wild in her eyes, breath coming in sharp gasps. Hassian moved instantly, wrapping her in his arms.

“Woah, it’s okay… it’s okay, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss into her hair. “You’re safe. I’m here.”

She sank into him like a lifeline, her hands gripping his forearms. He rubbed slow circles over her back, grounding her, matching his breathing to hers until hers started to settle.

“It was just a dream,” he whispered. “Daddy’s got you.”

That earned him a quiet chuckle, even as she wiped at her eyes.

“I’m okay,” she finally said, voice hoarse.

“I’ve been awake for a while,” he told her, brushing her damp hair back. “Knew you were dreaming. Was hoping it wasn’t bad.” He hesitated. “Want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “I don’t really remember. I just… woke up scared.”

He hated how small her voice sounded. Hated that even asleep, the weight of everything they’d been through still found ways to claw at her.

“Not surprised,” he said softly. “There’s been a lot since that light lit up the sky the other night.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, quiet again.

He touched her cheek, thumb brushing under her eye. “It’s too early to get up. Lay back down. Let me hold you.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

She lay down again, curling on her side, and he tucked the blanket around her shoulders, sliding in behind her. Skin to skin, heart to heart. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back against him, like if he held her tight enough, nothing could get to her.

He whispered close to her ear, “Sleep. I’ve got you, baby.”

And she did.

But Hassian didn’t.

He stayed awake, watching the dark, the trees beyond the glass. Listening to the hush of her breathing, the occasional creak of the wood. The unease in his chest hadn’t lifted.

Something was coming.

And this time, it wasn’t just instinct. It was written in the dream that had chased her into his arms—and in the way she’d clung to him like she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.

He tightened his grip on her.

Let it come, he thought, jaw clenched. But it goes through me first.

Plans in Motion

The forge door stood open, warm air curling out into the street like a greeting—or a warning. Hassian had already lit the hearth and stripped down to his undershirt, smoke curling up from the coals like a dragon waking from sleep.

Subira handed over the satchel without ceremony. “This is most of what we gathered. Should be enough for the arrows.”

Hassian nodded once, already turning to unpack it.

Lyra stood nearby, arms crossed, watching the quiet efficiency with which he moved. No words yet. Just work. That was fine—not when he’d spent the entire night curled around her like he was afraid she’d vanish in the dark.

Subira turned toward the door. “Auni,” she called. The sprightly Majiri peeked in from the corner, already grinning. “Go find Saraya and the others. Tell them to meet here.”

“They’re gonna whine,” Auni said cheerfully. “About missing out, I mean.”

“They can whine to Hassian,” Subira replied. “He’s the one making the arrows.”

Once Auni dashed off, Subira glanced at Lyra. “Walk with me?”

Lyra blinked, then nodded. “Sure.”

She didn’t miss the way Hassian’s eyes followed them to the door. He said nothing—but the glance lingered.

The morning had burned off its chill, but in the lane behind the forge, the shadows still clung to the walls. Subira walked slow, deliberate, waiting until the sound of hammering picked up again inside.

“I didn’t want to say it in front of him,” she said.

“Figured,” Lyra replied.

Subira’s jaw ticked. “I think Tamala’s the one who opened the tap.”

Lyra stopped. “You think?”

“I can’t prove it—not yet. But she’s been guarding that region for years. She had access. And now two protocols are locked, with one malfunctioning just enough to let the essence trickle through.”

Lyra swallowed. “Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t think she’s trying to destroy anything. I think…” She hesitated. “I think she’s trying to send you all back. Wherever you came from.”

The words landed hard. Lyra didn’t answer.

“I’ve tried following her,” Subira went on. “She catches me every time. But you… you're a hunter. A tracker. She wouldn’t suspect you.”

“You want me to tail her,” Lyra said flatly.

“I want to know what she’s doing,” Subira corrected. “If she catches you—walk away. Don’t engage. Don’t let her talk. Just observe.”

Lyra’s jaw tightened. She couldn’t let Tamala—or anyone—undo everything she and Hassian had built. Not their life, not their plans, not him. Her heart thumped fiercely, but she forced her voice steady. “Alright,” she said, finally.

They walked back in silence.

Inside the forge, Hassian had finished the first batch of arrows, laying them out in perfect rows.

Subira gave him a sharp nod. “We’re heading into the Elderwood to test collection methods. I’ve held some essence back for it.”

Hassian looked between them. “You’ll be out long?”

“Could be,” Subira said. “Depends how the land’s reacting.”

“I’ll talk to the team when they get here,” Hassian said. “Plan the hunt for tomorrow.”

Lyra stepped closer, brushing ash from his sleeve. “I love you.”

Hassian’s hand caught hers, warm and steady. He hesitated for a heartbeat, glancing toward Subira, and consciously let the words stay behind his lips. “Just stay safe,” he said instead.

She smiled faintly. “I will.”

And then she left, her hand still tingling where he’d held it too gently.

Hunt Planning

The group had gathered just outside the forge, leaning against barrels, steps, and each other. The scent of hot iron still clung to the air. Hassian crossed his arms, meeting each of their eyes in turn.

“We tested new arrows yesterday,” he said. “Took down infected ogopuu.”

Simon let out a low whistle. “Nice.”

“We’re planning another hunt tomorrow,” Hassian continued. “Want all of you there, if you’ll come.”

Lexi perked up. “Finally. Thought you forgot we were a team.”

Hassian smirked. “Didn’t forget. Just didn’t wait.”

Saraya arched an eyebrow. “Where’s Lyra now?”

He hesitated for half a second—not enough for most to notice. “She went to the Elderwood with Subira. They’re trying to collect infected plant samples. See if anything usable can be drawn from it.”

Rex looked alarmed. “Just the two of them?”

“She can handle herself,” Hassian said simply. “And Subira’s not helpless.”

Simon leaned on a rail. “We’re in for tomorrow.”

“Any questions?” Hassian asked.

Saraya hesitated, then said quietly, “I feel like we’re losing Lyra to the Order. She barely hunts with us anymore.”

“Not gonna happen,” Hassian said, tone flat. “Next question.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Rex cleared his throat. “Are the new arrows fireproof?”

“No,” Hassian answered. “So don’t shoot anything already on fire.”

Simon nudged Lexi. “Told you.”

Lexi raised both hands. “Hey, I said probably. Not definitely.”

Hassian exhaled through his nose—his version of a chuckle. “Just be ready tomorrow. We leave early.”

The Tail

Lyra moved like mist over stone, light on her feet, her breath barely stirring the chilled air beneath the Elderwood’s dense canopy. Her eyes locked on the distant silhouette of Tamala, graceful as ever, gliding along the overgrown path with a confidence that made her harder to follow than a shadow at sunset.

Subira had handed her the small tracking charm with a sharp look and a sharper command:“If anything happens, stay where you are. I’ll come for you.”

Now, that charm pulsed faintly in the pocket of Lyra’s jacket, tapping against her heartbeat like a second clock.

Tamala stopped ahead, seemingly to inspect a cluster of corrupted moss near the base of a rotted tree. Lyra crouched behind a fallen log, watching, waiting. Then, without warning, Tamala turned and veered sharply off the path—straight toward the rocky incline that led to the cave system Subira had warned them about.

Lyra hesitated only a moment before following.

The cave entrance gaped like a wound, hidden beneath a veil of thick vines and moss. Tamala disappeared into the dark, and Lyra crept in seconds later. The air changed instantly.

Cooler. Wetter. And humming with that telltale wrongness. Like something was watching from just beyond the light.

She pressed deeper, one hand against the wall, fingers tracing ancient grooves worn into the stone. The corridor gave way to a wide, dimly lit chamber, illuminated by the eerie pink glow she’d seen once before—back when everything had first gone sideways.

And there it was.

A nest.

Built from furs and hay, neatly arranged like a crude bed. Scattered nearby were apple cores, some fresh, others rotted. A few baskets had been placed around the space, one of them brimming with fresh apples, shiny and red, untouched.

Then, in another section of the space, there was a bed. This one meant for a person. There was a small table and a chair. A piece of paper lay tucked beneath a weighted stone on the table's surface. She lifted it gently and unfolded the page.

The handwriting was slanted, confident. She scanned the words quickly.

Her brow furrowed. It was addressed to —a single “T.”

Of course it was.

She reread it twice, then slowly refolded it and slid it into her pouch, mind racing.

A soft wind stirred, though there should be no breeze in the cave.

She turned.

Behind her, the tunnel leading back to the surface had filled with that strange pink haze—thick and shimmering like heat off stone. She stepped toward it instinctively, but her breath caught in her throat. Her body refused to move forward. Not out of fear. Out of… something else. Something enforced.

Then a voice behind her—cool, amused, and unmistakably familiar—cut through the quiet:
“Well, hello again, darling.”

Lyra turned.

Tamala’s voice curled from the shadows like smoke.

“Are you following me, darling? What a good pet you are.”

She stepped closer, the pink haze flickering behind her like an open flame.

“You’re doing double the work. Hassian’s pet and Subira’s now?” Her tone purred with mock sympathy. “I’m sure being Hassian’s pet is more enjoyable. One of the good things about him—he knows how to show a girl a good time, am I right?”

Lyra didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

Tamala’s lips curled. “You know, if you’ve got the time, I’m in the market for a new pet. I don’t mind sharing. It’s just so hard to find good ones these days.” She sighed, wistful. “I haven’t had a good pet since Hassian.”

A slow grin crept across her face as she circled Lyra like a stalking cat.

“But I had to let him go once he started following me around like a lovesick puppy—offering me his pin, begging me to marry him. He does tend to get dramatic, you know. And really, who has time for that?”

“Sometimes with our dear Hassian, you start to feel like the prey that he’s hunting.” Tamala added.

She paused, as if savoring a memory. “Did he tell you how we met? The young hunter was following a track straight into my woods. I bought a sernuk-skin rug off him and invited him into my bedroom to help me find a place to lay it out. And well…” She winked. “He didn’t leave until the next morning.”

She stopped just in front of Lyra, eyes gleaming with sick amusement. Lyra’s mouth opened slightly—then closed again.

Tamala laughed softly. “Oh? Palcat got your tongue?”

She leaned in. “You’re so sweet. So innocent-looking. I can’t imagine you being dear Hassian’s type. He does love to pin your hands down and get a little rough. I always adored getting nailed by that hard, young body.”

She licked her lips. “You seem more like the lovey-dovey type. All stars and promises. I suppose looks can be deceiving, though.”

Lyra’s voice, when it finally came, was quiet. Steady.

“That’s all real nice, Tamala. But I’d like to leave now.”

Tamala’s smile sharpened. “Oh, I’m sure you would, darling. But that’s not going to be possible. First…” She raised a hand. “Let me cast a spell.”

She murmured something under her breath—arcane and honey-slick. Magic shimmered through the air like heatwaves.

“This one’s my favorite,” she said cheerfully. “It makes sure you only say nice things about me. No more nasty talk, no matter what awful little thoughts you’re having.” Her grin spread wider. “Isn’t that considerate?”

Lyra took a cautious step toward the cave entrance—but her legs locked instantly, her whole body freezing as if shackled by invisible chains. The pink haze pulsed brighter, reacting to her effort.

“Oh, don’t bother,” Tamala said breezily. “It won’t let you through. Not unless I say so.”

She clucked her tongue. “Now, let’s see if Hassian loves you enough to come find you.”

She turned, already drifting toward the shimmering wall.

“Hopefully,” she said sweetly, “he gets here before the beast does. How devastating would it be for him to lose his momma and his fiancée to the same monster?” She clicked her teeth. “Tragic.”

And then she was gone—vanishing into the haze as easily as if it were a curtain pulled aside.

Lyra stared after her, jaw tight.

She took another step toward the exit.

Her body refused again—knees locking, breath catching.

“Well,” she muttered under her breath, eyes scanning the empty cave.

“You’ve got yourself in a mess now.”

Lyra stared at the wall of pink haze, chest rising and falling in tight, shallow breaths. The cave was quiet now—eerily so. Just the faint shimmer of the spell pulsing like a heartbeat in the air.

Her mind, however, was anything but quiet.

Tamala’s words replayed, looping like a poisoned song.

He does love to pin your hands down and get a little rough...

That wasn’t the man she knew. Hassian could be intense— sure. Passionate. But rough? That wasn’t his way. Except… Lyra’s brow furrowed. There had been that one time. After their argument about her talking to Reth —he’d pulled her close with more force than usual, held her a little tighter, had his way with her against the bedroom wall. She’d liked it, honestly. But it hadn’t felt cruel or out of control. Just desperate. Honest.

Not like what Tamala described. Not at all.

And then there was the story of how they met.

I bought a sernuk-skin rug off him and invited him into my bedroom.

Her stomach twisted. Hassian… sleeping with her that fast? With Tamala of all people? He hadn’t even kissed Lyra until they’d exchanged pins. Not one kiss. Nothing more than hand-holding and the occasional brush of fingers until after he’d made his feelings—and his commitment—clear. He’d been a perfect gentleman. Proper, hesitant, honorable. And yet he was supposedly fine meeting random forest witches and spending the night with them?

She crossed her arms, hugging herself tightly.

Really, Lyra? she thought. You’re locked in a cave hoping some ancient beast doesn’t come home and eat you… and this is what you’re worrying about?

She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, grounding herself. No. This was Tamala’s game—she wanted Lyra shaken. Wanted her off balance. And Lyra had let her in, let the words slip past her defenses and fester.

She dropped a hand to her pocket and found the tracking device Subira had given her. Her fingers wrapped around it like a lifeline.

Please let this still work this deep in the cave, she thought, pressing the button twice in quick succession. The signal light blinked green.
Then red.

She released a slow breath.

Come on, Subira. Hassian. Anyone. Just hurry.

And still, despite herself, the echo of Tamala’s voice lingered like smoke.
I haven’t had a good pet since Hassian…

Lyra shook her head, jaw set. Whatever the truth of the past was, she knew one thing without a shadow of a doubt:
Hassian had given her his pin. He was preparing to marry her, Building tables and wedding arches.

And she wasn’t going to let some manipulative witch rewrite who he was.