Barik's eyes lost their glazed look, though confusion still clung to his face like a shroud. The words hung in his mouth, half-formed and heavy.
Ruvio didn't answer immediately. He waited, watching with a predator's patience as Barik fought to reclaim his own mind.
Barik pressed a hand to his temple, his brow furrowing. The fog slowly burned away. The memories felt… sharpened. Crystallized. The cave, the wolves, the long march back, things that had been slipping through his fingers moments ago now stood in a solid, terrifying line.
"You are carrying too much noise in your head," Ruvio said mildly.
Thalen glanced at his son, a chuckle escaping his lips. "Still trippin' over Dara, huh?" He laughed at his own joke, the tension in the room easing slightly. (1)
Dara's smile was awkward, her eyes flicking between Barik and Thalen. She didn't know whether to laugh or roll her eyes.
Barik took a jagged breath. "I remember the hunt. The march. The wolves. But… parts of it feel distant. Like I'm recalling someone else's story."
Faren glanced at the captain but remained silent, his expression unreadable.
Ruvio stepped closer, leaning on his iron staff as if merely steadying his old bones. As he passed, his hand rested briefly on Barik's shoulder, a grandfatherly gesture, easy to miss, easier to forget.
"Fatigue does strange things to memory," Ruvio whispered.
His fingers pressed for no more than a heartbeat.
Barik blinked. The cave came back.
It didn't return gently. It hit him like a physical blow. The unnatural cold. The wrongness of the silence. The way the Alpha moved. The moment Eris's voice had ceased to be human. The blood. The impossible, silver healing.
Barik stood tall, shaking off the last of the mental vertigo. The jumbled fog was gone, replaced by a singular, haunting image.
"The lightning-struck tree…" Barik repeated, his voice raspy.
He sucked in a sharp breath and gripped the edge of the table to steady himself. "By the Deep…"
"What is it?" Thalen asked, turning from the recovered blueprint.
"I…" Barik swallowed hard. "I remembered something I'd forgotten. Or something I didn't realize I'd been made to forget."
"The tree," Ruvio interjected softly, guiding the conversation back to the mission. "Yes. You were going to tell us."
"It was struck by lightning," Barik said, his eyes wide. "But not like any storm I've ever seen. The trunk was split clean through. Silver veins were pulsing in the heartwood. Even in the dark, Elder... it felt alive."
Barik continued his frantic explanation, the words tumbling out about the siege, the strange truce with the pack, and the sheer wrongness of the ridge.
Faren and Thalen exchanged a heavy look. They knew the legends of the Silver-storm, but hearing it from a man as grounded as Barik made the hair on their arms stand up.
Ruvio turned his staff, the iron cap scraping softly against the stone floor. The sound was like a period at the end of a sentence. "And you did not touch it?"
"No," Barik said, his chest heaving as he fought to regulate his breathing. "The air around it was vibrating. It felt... heavy. Like the sky was still trying to fall. Even the birds wouldn't fly over the clearing. Eris and Kaylah wanted to take it back, but I stopped them. I told them it was too dangerous to move."
Ruvio gave a faint, slow nod. The tension in his shoulders seemed to ease, replaced by a cold, calculating resolve.
"Good," Ruvio said. "If you had touched it without the proper grounding, you would be ash. But now we know it has survived the transition."
He glanced at the dark doorway, eyes flickering with torchlight. "When the sun breaks, take them back. Retrieve it." He added, almost as an afterthought, "Dara goes with you."
Barik's jaw dropped; exhaustion couldn't mask his shock. "What—"
"Not a joke, Barik," Ruvio cut in, voice low and final. "Dara's an arrow that's proven true and sharp. And maybe she'll make the trip less... dull."
***
The feast had long since burned itself out, leaving the hall in a shroud of low, flickering amber.
Jag approached without a sound. The great pack-leader stood in the center of the room, looking utterly out of place among the cold stone walls. Her fur smelled of pine needles and ancient earth, a scent of the world above that felt like a memory.
Beside her stood two smaller shadows. They were all legs and oversized paws, their eyes glowing like polished golden coins in the dim light.
Jag nudged the cubs toward Eris. She looked at the boy with a heavy, solemn gaze that carried the weight of a pact.
They stay with you, her silence seemed to say. The forest is no longer safe for the small.
Jag glanced down the tunnel toward the outer passages, where the darkness led beyond the gates. Her ears twitched, not with fear, but with cold calculation.
"My pack will run fast tonight," she continued, her presence vibrating in Eris's mind. "And quiet. The cubs cannot."
Eris understood the unspoken truth. The Iron Order was moving, and the wolves were going to hunt, or be hunted. A cub's yelp could be a death sentence for the pack.
He nodded slowly. "They'll be safe here, Jag. I promise."
Jag studied him for a long breath, measuring more than just his words. She was looking at the Silver humming in his blood, checking if the vessel was strong enough to protect her kin.
Satisfied, she turned to the cubs and gave a low chuff, a sound that was half command, half reassurance.
"They'll sleep near the hearth," Kaylah said. It wasn't a question; it was a welcome.
Jag inclined her head in a final, graceful acknowledgment. Then, with a sudden, fluid power, she turned and bounded toward the dark. The great wolf vanished into the shadows of the passage, leaving only the scent of the wild and two very confused cubs behind.
***
What remained of the night were embers, low voices, and the quiet scrape of feet as Haven Below settled into an uneasy rest. Smoke still clung to the tunnels, mingling with damp stone and the sharp, iron scent of rain drifting in from the world above.
The atmosphere in the siblings' quarters was electric. At Emberlight, Leo and Myrah sat on a low bench, their hair tousled from sleep, waiting.
Kaylah appeared first, bows slung over her shoulders. Behind her came Eris.
"Sister?" Leo whispered. Beside him, Myrah rubbed her face with a small fist, blinking back the haze of dreams.
Then they saw the cubs.
Myrah's breath caught. "They're—" she swallowed, her eyes reflecting the dying fire. "They're staying?"
"For a while," Eris said.
Myrah didn't wait for an invitation. She hurled herself toward the smaller cub, letting out a squeal that made the little wolf yelp and scramble backward.
She caught herself, suddenly remembering the hunters' tales. She slowed down, crouching carefully, mimicking the posture of someone approaching a skittish animal.
The smallest cub hesitated. It sniffed the air, its wet nose twitching, then bumped its head clumsily against Myrah's knee. It sat down with a heavy thump, as if the weight of the decision had exhausted it.
"A real wolf!" Myrah shrieked, finally scooping the cub into a hug that looked more like a wrestling move. "I'm going to call you Jam! Because you're sweet and messy!" (2)
Leo was more cautious. He knelt, extending his hand slowly and steadily, just like in one of Eris's stories. The second cub watched him with golden, knowing eyes. It sniffed his fingers, then gave a tiny, tentative wag of its tail.
"He's solid," Leo murmured, his voice cracking with a sudden, sharp excitement. "Look at his ears, Eris! He's a guardian. He can watch the gate of my fort. I name you Rock."
He laughed, then suddenly serious., "Wait, are you boy or girl? I'm a guy, you know. Dude, gotta have a bro."
Leo's face lit up. In the flickering light, he looked like a different person, no longer the quiet boy hiding in the shadows of the cave, but a scout-in-training with his first partner.
His grin broke wide and unguarded, a rare flash of pure light in the dark of Haven Below.
Eris smiled, his heart light despite the weight of the coming war. The cubs had found their names.
And their home.
Myrah's whisper was loud enough for everyone to hear. "Uncle Barik said he'd find us something, but Eris brought you instead!" She grinned at Jam, like they were in on a secret.
Jam snorted in its sleep, paws twitching like it was chasing rabbits in dreamland. It had Myrah's vibe – wild and fearless.
Leo settled beside Eris on the stone floor, back against the cool wall. His hand rested on the warm flank of the second cub as if afraid it might vanish if he let go.
Myrah sat cross-legged near the hearth, chin propped on her palms, watching the scene with the intensity she usually reserved for rare sweets or monsters.
As if on cue, Barik emerged from the lamplight. He had a sack slung over one shoulder and a bundle of wrapped bone at his belt, whistling a happy tune that died the moment he stepped into the room.
He stopped short. He blinked once, then twice.
The cubs noticed him immediately. One sprang up and let out a bark, high, sharp, and entirely too confident. The other tried to growl, skidding clumsily on the smooth stone as it attempted to look fierce and failed spectacularly.
Barik froze. "Eris," he said carefully, "why are there wolves in our living quarters?"
"They're guests," Eris replied, fighting back a smirk.
"That explains nothing," Barik muttered.
Barik looked at the bone bundle at his hip. He had been feeling quite proud of his surprise, but now… the competition was stiff.
He set the sack down anyway and knelt, loosening the ties. The scent of fresh meat rolled out, rich, iron-heavy, and unmistakable. He pulled free a thick cut of game and several marrow bones, split clean and ready.
"For the guests, then," he said, pushing the bones forward. "Have you forgotten about me? You played with me in the cave," Barik snorted. (3)
The cubs surged toward him like a gray flood.
Myrah gasped. Her eyes went wide, then wider, and then he let out a squeal that echoed off the tunnel ceiling.
"Bones!" she shouted, throwing his arms around Barik's neck so hard he nearly toppled over. "Uncle Barik brought the wolf-snacks!"
Barik grunted, patting her back while trying to keep the cubs from chewing on his boots. He looked over at Eris, a weary but genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"I suppose I still owe you that surface-trinket, Princess," he grumbled, though his eyes told a different story. "But for tonight, I think the wolves win."
Myrah lost it. "UNCLE BROUGHT BONES!" she screeched, waving one around like a prize. "REAL BONES. WITH MEAT!"
She clugged it to her chest, grinning at the ceiling. "This is the BEST NIGHT."
Barik's eyes crinkled with affection. He loved these children, visiting them often and hearing their stories about soup and dragons. "Dragon meat and bones," he chuckled, eyes winking. (4)
Myrah's eyes popped. "Waah! Dragon meat and bones!" She totally bought it. She danced and chanted, "Dragon meat and bones! No grass tonight, no grass tonight. Dragon meat and bones! No grass tonight..."
The cubs' eyes gleamed, their tails wagging as they followed Myrah running back and forth. The feast was on.
Barik laughed despite himself, the tension in his shoulders finally draining away. "I aim to please, Princess."
She turned on him instantly, hands on her hips. Her expression was severe in a way only a child can manage. "But," she added loudly, "you still owe me." Then looked at Jam as if asking for the cub's agreement.
Barik groaned. "Already?"
"Remember, you promised me a pet," Myrah said, ticking points off on her fingers. "A real one. Not a lizard. And not something that runs away." (5)
Barik glanced at the cub gnawing happily on a bone at her feet. Then he looked at Eris. "…I've already been replaced, haven't I?"
Myrah followed his gaze, then gave a small, haughty sniff. "Well," she admitted, "Eris brought this one. And mind you, it's not a pet, it's a friend. So," she continued, brightening as she realized her advantage, "you still owe me something else."
Barik folded his arms. "And what exactly is that something?"
She tapped her chin, thinking hard. Dramatically hard.
"I'll decide later," she announced. "Something big. And you can't say no." She waved her hand like a fan to emphasize that the matter was not up for debate.
Barik sighed the sigh of a man who knew a lost cause when he heard one. "That's not how debts work, Princess."
"Hmmm…" She winced, then shot back, "That's exactly how this one works. I think."
Leo snorted. Kaylah hid a smile behind her hand. Barik shook his head, but his gaze lingered on the children and the cubs. The chamber felt full of life again, a rare warmth against the cold damp of the tunnels.
"Eat," he said softly at last. "All of you. Tomorrow will ask enough of us."
As Barik rose, his eyes met Eris's. The playful uncle vanished, replaced by the Captain of the Guard.
"I still owe her a gift," Barik muttered under his breath so the children wouldn't hear. "I promised her something from the surface, and you beat me to it."
Eris laughed softly, but the sound didn't reach his eyes.
"At dawn, I will go with you," Barik continued, his voice dropping into a tactical low. "Elder Faren will lend us horses. We must make haste to retrieve the core of that lightning-struck tree and return before the sun peaks. The forest is restless, and the Iron Order's eyes are wide."
"We'll take Jag and her pack with us," Eris added.
Barik felt a flicker of relief at the mention of the wolves, but beneath it lay something heavier. He looked at Eris and Kaylah—the two people the Iron Order would kill to possess. He wasn't just leading a recovery team; he was guarding a secret that could burn the world.
Eris looked down at the cub sleeping against Leo's leg, its fur warm through his trousers. He wondered how long nights like this were allowed to last.
Kaylah watched them from the doorway, her hand pressed lightly to the stone wall. When her eyes met Eris's, no words were needed. There was only the shared understanding of the danger waiting just beyond the gate.
***
Above the laughter and the firelight, Elder Ruvio stood at the mouth of a higher tunnel, his iron staff a dark pillar against the flickering lamps.
He watched the cubs settle. He watched Leo's laughter soften the sharp edge that had gripped Eris since the war room.
Good, Ruvio thought.
It wasn't relief; it was calculation. Storms were moving. Pieces had been placed. And some things, if left unwatched, would break too soon.
He turned toward Faren, his voice dropping to a gravelly command. "The mental veil I've woven around those scouts is fragile. If the Order has a Seer worth their salt, it will only hold for three days. Perhaps less."
Ruvio sighed, leaning heavily on his staff. The effort of the illusion had aged him visibly. "The intel will reach the Iron Order in two days. If the lies do not hold, it will take them another two to march on Haven. We have four days at most to finish the moat."
Below, seated on the floor with his family, Eris felt it—a brief pressure at the edge of his awareness, like the earth shifting far below. It was a cold, rhythmic pulse that made the hair on his arms stand.
He frowned, searching the shadows, but his attention was pulled back as one cub climbed clumsily into his lap and promptly fell asleep.
For just a moment, Haven Below felt like a peaceful home again.
And that, Eris would later realize, was exactly why the night was dangerous. Comfort was a fog that hid the coming storm.
Ruvio watched them one last time before turning away without a sound.
Let them have this night, the Elder thought. Let the children play with the wolves. Tomorrow, I will have to turn the boy into a storm, and the wolves into killers. The veil is thin, but it must hold long enough for the moat to fill.
***