The inn lay at the very outskirts of the town, perched so far from the center that it felt deliberately abandoned by the world. Few people ventured this far, and those who did moved with their heads bowed and their steps hurried, as though lingering invited something unseen to take notice. The road leading to it was narrow and uneven, flanked by crooked trees whose branches twisted overhead like grasping fingers.
Serena slowed as the building came into view. The structure itself was old, older than it looked, with stone walls darkened by age and a roof that sagged just slightly at the edges. Warm light glowed from its windows, too warm, too inviting, standing in stark contrast to the cold unease creeping up her spine.
"I don't like this place," Missy murmured beside her, tightening her grip on Serena's hand.
"Neither do I," Serena admitted, though she forced her voice to stay light. "But maybe it's just travel nerves."
Before Missy could respond, a figure stumbled into their path.
The man emerged from the shadows like something dragged up from a forgotten grave. His clothes were tattered, his beard unkempt, and his eyes, wide and bloodshot,flicked wildly between them. He muttered under his breath, the words tumbling over one another in a frantic chant that sounded half prayer, half curse.
Serena barely had time to register him before the guards moved.
"You," the man rasped suddenly, his gaze locking onto Serena with terrifying intensity. "Why are you here? Haven't you done enough? Haven't you taken enough from us?"
Serena froze.
"He will come for you," the man continued, his voice rising. "He will have his revenge, I swear it. I swear it on blood and bone, Oliv.."
The name never fully left his mouth.
A fist crashed into his face with brutal force, the sound of cracking bone echoing through the quiet road. The man collapsed to his knees, blood spilling freely from his mouth.
"Shut up, traitor," one of the guards snarled. "Drunken old hag. The leaders won't tolerate you verbally assaulting one of the students."
He struck him again, harder, knocking him flat onto the ground.
Serena gasped, her heart slamming violently against her ribs.
"Take him to the leaders," a calm voice ordered from behind them. "I'll see that our guests are settled."
Serena turned sharply.
It was the same guard from the town gate.
Her stomach twisted. Had he followed them? And if he hadn't… how had he arrived so quickly?
Her hands trembled as she clutched Missy's arm, fingers digging in as though anchoring herself to something solid.
"Please," the man sobbed as the guards hauled him to his feet. "Please, I didn't mean it. They can't stay away. They'll come, he will come, all because.."
"Another word," the guard warned coldly, lifting his hand once more, "and it will be far worse."
"Please don't," Serena blurted out, forcing a crooked smile even as her knees threatened to buckle. "I'm not offended. He's just drunk, right? He must have mistaken me for someone else."
The guard studied her for a moment, his eyes hidden underneath his cap.
"Yes, miss," he said finally. "Take him away. Now."
As the man was dragged off, his voice echoed back toward them, cracked and desperate.
"He's coming… they're all coming… they've been awakened. Cursed is this century the wolves shall return."
The words clung to Serena long after the man disappeared from sight.
"What a poor old man," she murmured, swallowing hard.
She turned to Missy, searching for reassurance, for anything familiar. Missy said nothing, her brows tightly drawn, her gaze fixed on the darkened path where the guards had vanished.
"You okay?" Serena asked softly, tugging her hand.
"Yes," Missy replied after a long pause. "Let's just… get inside."
Her voice lacked conviction.
The guard led them the rest of the way in silence.
Up close, the inn looked less threatening, almost charming. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, and the scent of food drifted through the air rich, comforting, irresistible. The moment Serena crossed the threshold, warmth enveloped her, easing the tightness in her chest.
Her stomach growled loudly.
Missy shot her a look. "Serena, was that you?"
Serena flushed. "I didn't even realize I was hungry."
"Don't worry," the guard said smoothly. "Everything you need will be provided, free of charge."
He guided them toward a small reception area where a plump woman with curly red hair tied into a neat bun hummed softly to herself. A brown apron was wrapped snugly around her waist, dusted lightly with flour.
"My goodness, General," the woman exclaimed brightly when she saw him, then lowered her voice to a whisper. "What an honor. What brings you here?"
"I need you to house these guests for the night," he replied firmly. "I'll return for them in the morning. Make them comfortable. They are important to the elders."
He turned to Serena and Missy. "Your arrangements are made."
The woman stepped closer, her smile warm until her eyes landed on Serena.
The color drained from her face.
"Oh," she breathed.
The general moved quickly, bending beside her and whispering urgently, "Remain calm. Nothing has been confirmed. We still have time, before the leaders discover the truth."
"Yes," she stammered. "Yes, General. We still have time."
Her hands tightened around her apron as though it were the only thing holding her upright.
"Mary," she said briskly, forcing brightness into her voice, "please take our guests to their rooms. They must be exhausted from their journey."
A pretty brunette rose from the corner where she had been folding linens. "Yes, m'lady," she said softly, bowing her head before hurrying toward the stairs. "Please follow me."
She avoided looking directly at either of them.
Serena and Missy exchanged uneasy glances before following her upstairs. The hallway was narrow, the floorboards creaking softly beneath their feet.
Once they were gone, the woman exhaled shakily.
"Please don't let your fear show," the general murmured. "She's already shaken, from Wickam."
He removed his cap, dirty-blond hair falling loosely to his shoulders.
"That old goat," the woman muttered. "I knew he was a traitor from the start. More of those who sided with that devil are growing restless."
The general straightened slowly, his red eyes locking onto hers.
"Do not insult Michael by calling him a devil," he said quietly. "He is far stronger than that."
He ran a hand through his hair. "Wouldn't it be something… if she truly is the one who awakened the wolves?"
The woman swallowed. "A miracle," she whispered. "If she chooses wisely. If not… the world will fall. The brothers will clash again, and no mortal or immortal could stop them. Not even Vashti herself."
The general smiled, the expression devoid of warmth.
"I have a good feeling about her."
He turned toward the door.
"The full moon is in four days," he said. "By then, we will know the truth. The leaders will not allow history to repeat itself. Never again."
He stepped into the night, his red eyes burning briefly in the darkness before the door closed behind him.