Northern winds howled through the frozen treetops, rattling the charms and talismans that hid their forest refuge from prying eyes.
Snow crunched under Lan's boots as he strode into the shadowed clearing, Iris cradled in his arms. Her dark hair spilled over his forearm, streaks of white glinting faintly in the moonlight.
She weighed almost nothing now—her body a fragile remnant of the force she had been.
The guards at the entrance stepped aside without a word.
Lan moved quickly down the narrow passage into the stone heart of their hideout. The air was warmer here, carrying the scent of burning herbs and dried blood. The flicker of oil lamps threw long, shivering shadows across carved walls.
Seraphine was already waiting.
She stood beside a broad stone platform, its surface layered with soft fur and pale linen. Her golden hair was bound in a braid that fell over one shoulder, her once beautiful blue eyes wrapped covered by the white cloth.
Lan laid Iris down gently.
