Snow fell heavier now, flakes thick as coins, covering the retreat like an unfinished grave. The Wardens staggered down the north road, sled creaking, breath ragged. Behind them, Dunclare no longer existed—only a hollow roar where earth ate itself.
Rowan tasted iron in the wind. Not his blood. The river's.
The gorge cut deep and black ahead, the bridge they had crossed at dawn already trembling with cracks. River-wights clustered on its stones, pulled there by the bell's tone still rattling through Rowan's ribs.
"They'll box us in," Harrow gasped. His face was ash-smudged, freckles lost under soot.
"Not if we move faster than fear," Maeryn said. She set her spear and signaled the wedge tighter. "Vesper, rear guard. If you fall, we burn the bridge behind you."
Rowan laughed, not kindly. "Then pray I don't fall."
The first Bellborn caught them at the gorge's lip—ashen claws scraping the stone, broken-moon masks grinning. Rowan met them with the chain, wrapping one throat and dragging it screaming into the river below. It hit the water, hissed like lime on fire, and dissolved. The wolf exulted. The vampire memorized.
But more came.
The sled jammed halfway across the bridge, wheels biting the stone. The crate shuddered. The bell rang once, impatient, like a child demanding attention. The river-wights screamed in reply and began to climb.
"Cut it loose!" one Warden shouted. "Drop the bell!"
"No," Maeryn snapped. "If it sinks, the whole river learns its name."
Rowan was already moving, boots slipping on ice, chain burning his arms raw. He wrapped the silver links around the sled's yoke, braced, and pulled. Wolf-heart gave muscle. Vampire-heart gave angle. The sled lurched free, rolling onto the far side.
But the bell rang again. Louder. The note drove into Rowan's bones and for an instant he wasn't himself. He was wolf drinking moonlight. He was vampire swallowing rivers. He was both and neither. He staggered, chain slack.
A Bellborn lunged through the gap, claws poised for Harrow's back.
Rowan didn't think. He let the two hearts braid fully, for the first time. He moved faster than he should, heavier than he should, and tore the thing apart in one motion that was all hunger and no mercy.
The Wardens froze. Even Maeryn. For that heartbeat, Rowan wasn't prisoner or ally. He was something that made allies afraid too.
The gorge shook. The chapel bell's echo carried even here. More Bellborn poured from the treeline. The bridge began to crack.
"Captain!" Harrow cried. "It's falling!"
Rowan turned, blood steaming from his hands, and saw the choice laid out:Break the bridge now and trap the Bellborn behind forever…Or hold it long enough for all the Wardens to cross, risking that the bell itself would go down with the stone.
The wolf wanted ruin. The vampire wanted leverage. Both wanted survival.
And Rowan had only a chain, two hearts, and one impossible choice.
Cliffhanger: Will Rowan destroy the bridge—or gamble everything to save both the Wardens and the bell?