The knocks echoed through the cabin like the toll of a funeral bell.
Arya froze where she lay, her fingers clutching the blanket so tightly her knuckles turned white. Mira stirred in her sleep, groaning faintly, but did not wake. Only Ivy moved, rising slowly to his feet, the firelight glinting against his sharpened stick.
"Stay quiet," he mouthed to Arya.
The air inside the cabin thickened, heavy with fear. Whoever was outside had not spoken, not pleaded, not demanded. Just three slow, deliberate knocks like a warning, or a promise.
Another moment of silence. Then the door creaked under the pressure of a hand testing the wood.
Ivy raised a finger to his lips, signaling Arya to remain still, and crept forward, pressing his ear against the door. Arya held her breath. The sound of footsteps retreated first a crunch in the snow, then another, fading into the distance.
For a long time, Ivy didn't move. Only when the silence stretched unbearably thin did he step back, his expression unreadable.
"They're gone," he whispered.
But Arya wasn't convinced. Her heart hammered against her ribs, her ears straining for any sign that the stranger lingered just out of sight. She wanted to ask if it could be the killers, but the thought alone made her throat tighten.
Mira stirred again, her eyelids fluttering open. "What happened?" she croaked.
"Nothing you need to worry about," Ivy said sharply, his eyes still on the door.
Mira's brow furrowed. She sat up slowly, wincing from her wound. "There was someone out there, wasn't there?"
Arya glanced at Ivy, then back at Mira. "We don't know. They knocked… and then left."
Mira's lips parted in alarm. "They never leave," she whispered. "If they found us, they wouldn't walk away."
The words sank into Arya like ice water. She turned to Ivy, who remained stone-faced, though the faint tension in his jaw betrayed him. He didn't believe the stranger was gone either.
Dawn was slow to come, painting the snow outside with a dull gray light. None of them had slept. Mira sat by the fire, hugging herself against the cold, while Ivy positioned himself near the window, scanning the tree line. Arya lingered between them, restless, torn by questions she didn't dare voice.
Finally, she broke the silence. "You said they were mercenaries," she said to Mira. "Do you know who hired them?"
Mira's gaze darted toward Ivy before returning to Arya. Her lips pressed together, as though weighing how much truth to reveal.
"I don't know for certain," she said finally. "But I heard them mention someone a name." She paused, lowering her voice. "They called him the General."
The title lingered in the air like smoke.
"Who is he?" Arya asked.
"I don't know," Mira admitted. "But they fear him more than anyone else. They obey his orders without question. If he wants a town wiped out, it's gone within a night."
Arya's stomach twisted. The massacre hadn't been random, then. It had been commanded. Planned. Someone had chosen her town, chosen her people, and erased them from existence.
She turned toward Ivy, expecting anger or outrage. Instead, his expression darkened into something she couldn't read something heavier, older, like the weight of memories long buried.
"You know something," Arya said quietly.
Ivy's eyes flicked toward her, then away. "I've heard the name," he admitted. "Before."
Mira tilted her head, suspicion flashing in her eyes. "From where?"
Ivy hesitated, and Arya's chest tightened. She had seen this before his careful choice of words, the secrets he held back.
"I was a soldier once," Ivy said at last, his voice clipped. "Not for long. Not proud of it. But the General's name… it was whispered, even there. A ghost no one wanted to see."
The fire popped, making Arya flinch. She stared at him, torn between relief at his honesty and anger at his secrecy. How much else was he hiding? How much could she trust him?
Mira let out a bitter laugh that turned into a cough. "So you were one of them."
"No," Ivy snapped, his eyes flashing. "I left. I left because I saw what they were becoming. Don't mistake me for one of those butchers."
But Mira only shook her head, a faint, mocking smile curling her lips. "Maybe Arya believes you. I don't."
The room fell silent. Arya's heart pounded as she looked between them. Mira's eyes burned with accusation; Ivy's with fury. And she—she was caught between, unsure of which truth to hold onto.
Later, when Mira dozed again, Arya pulled Ivy aside. "Why didn't you tell me before?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
"Because it doesn't matter," he said firmly. "I left that life. I'm not him anymore."
"But if you knew about the General if you knew they could come here why didn't you warn me?"
Ivy's expression softened, though his jaw remained tight. "Because I didn't want you to look at me the way you are now."
Arya froze, her throat tightening. She wanted to deny it, but the truth was in her eyes. Doubt had crept in. Fear, not of him, but of his past, of what it might mean for their future.
Before she could answer, Mira stirred, groaning. Arya turned, but Ivy caught her wrist lightly.
"You don't have to trust me," he said softly. "But I need you to survive. Promise me you'll trust me enough for that."
Arya's chest ached. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to believe him. But the words stuck in her throat, unspoken.
As the sun began to rise, Mira finally woke fully, her face pale but her eyes sharper than before.
"We can't stay here," she said. "They'll be back. Maybe they never left."
Ivy nodded. "Then we move. Into the woods."
Arya swallowed hard, glancing at the door. She didn't want to open it, didn't want to see what waited beyond. But Mira was right they couldn't stay.
Gathering their meager supplies, they prepared to leave. Ivy pushed the door open first, stepping into the snow with his weapon ready. Arya followed, Mira leaning heavily on her shoulder.
The forest loomed before them, dark and endless.
And then Arya saw it half-buried in the snow just outside the cabin.
A single footprint.
Not theirs. Fresh.
Leading away into the trees.