Blake's POV
Two years before Beacon.
Vale was still a maze of light and shadow — but I knew its rhythm now.
Where to walk when the patrols passed. Which streets didn't ask questions. Which markets took lien without checking where it came from.
The White Fang was everywhere, even here.
Their graffiti marked the alleys like scars: red fangs, black crescents, symbols layered over old ones. The messages changed, but the meaning didn't. They'd rather burn than fade.
I kept my head down. I kept moving.
That was how I lived.
I worked at a small Dust shop near the southern rail line. The owner, a gruff old man named Renard, paid me to clean and stock shelves. He didn't care about my ears as long as the counter stayed full and quiet.
"You do good work," he said one night, flipping the sign to Closed.
"Thank you," I said.
"Don't thank me. Just don't disappear without notice."
"I won't."
He nodded. "Good. The last assistant left without saying a word. The world's too small for ghosts."
I smiled, faintly. "I've met a few."
He didn't ask what I meant.
Nights were harder.
I couldn't stop watching the streets from the window. Every time I saw a hooded figure or heard a rally chant in the distance, I felt my pulse quicken — half fear, half guilt.
Once, I saw a Fang protest march through Market Square. They were loud, angry, and the police didn't even bother hiding their rifles.
I turned away before anyone saw me.
That same night, someone left a flyer under the shop door.
THE WHITE FANG FIGHTS FOR YOU.
The ink was fresh.
I tore it in half.
The dreams came back after that.
The rail fire. The smell of Dust burning.
Senti's voice — sometimes calm, sometimes screaming.
And always that flash of red eyes in the smoke.
I woke up sweating, shaking, and whispering her name like she could hear it.
She never answered.
One evening, I found a small café tucked into the edge of Vale's old district. It was run by a pair of Faunus twins — kind people, quiet. They didn't recognize me, and I didn't give them reason to.
It became my hiding place.
They served tea, real tea, not the recycled powder most shops used. I'd sit near the window and read.
Books felt safe. They didn't shout or bleed or ask me to pick sides.
That's where I met Ilia again.
She sat down without asking. Same chameleon skin, same sharp smile.
"Didn't think I'd see you outside a rally," she said.
"I don't go to those anymore."
"Yeah, I heard. Adam's not happy."
I stiffened. "You've seen him?"
She shrugged. "Sometimes. He doesn't talk about you much. Just gets quiet. That's worse."
"Then maybe he should stop talking altogether."
Ilia smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You think you can just walk away? You were one of us."
"I was," I said. "Not anymore."
"That's not how it works."
"I decide how it works."
She leaned forward. "You sound like him."
That hit harder than I wanted it to.
I stood. "Tell him I'm gone. For good."
Ilia's expression softened for a second. "He already knows. And he's not the only one looking."
I left before she could say more.
That night, I didn't go home.
I walked the streets until the crowds thinned and the city quieted.
There was a strange peace in it — the kind that only comes when everything else has already fallen apart.
I ended up by the docks. The water reflected the city lights, endless and still.
That's when I saw her.
Or thought I did.
Across the pier, a figure stood watching the skyline — hooded, tail flicking once, hair like pale silver catching the wind.
Senti.
I blinked, heart in my throat.
She turned — just enough for me to see red eyes glowing faintly under the hood — then vanished into the alley beyond the cranes.
I ran after her.
By the time I reached the alley, it was empty.
Only a faint mark scratched into the wall remained: a wolf's head drawn in ash.
I pressed my fingers to it. The ash smudged warm.
When I got back to the shop at dawn, Renard was waiting.
"You were gone all night," he said.
"I couldn't sleep."
He handed me a cup of tea. "You look like someone who saw a ghost."
"Maybe I did."
He didn't ask more. He didn't need to.
That night, I sat by the window again.
The city was quiet.
For the first time in years, I didn't feel alone.
Somewhere out there, the Wolf Beneath Vale was watching.
And for the first time, I hoped she never stopped.