The dagger would not rest.
It had lain quiet at Liora's hip all through the rites, its hunger subdued as if the sun's first light had pressed it into silence. But now, with night returning and shadows thickening over the stronghold, it pulsed again. A faint throb against her thigh, steady as a heartbeat. Not hers. Its own.
Liora had not slept. She could not. Each time she closed her eyes, she smelled smoke, her own fire curling around the memory of Vanya's corpse. She remembered the way the body had looked when the flames consumed it. Too real. Too final to be doubted. And yet the wind carried her scent still. Familiar. Undeniable.
She stalked the edges of the stronghold like a restless ghost, cloak trailing behind her, boots crunching on gravel. Below, the pack was uneasy. They muttered in their dens, their growls low and restless, as if nightmares prowled through their sleep. Wolves did not need words to know something was wrong. They smelled it on her, the tension in her shoulders, the dagger whispering at her side.
"You're frightening them."
Liora turned sharply. Nyssa leaned in the archway of the hall, arms crossed, her face pale in the moonlight. Her hair was unbound, falling wild over her cloak.
"They should be frightened," Liora said. "Something is coming."
"Or you're making them believe something is." Nyssa's voice was soft, careful. The way one might speak to someone balancing too close to a cliff's edge.
Liora's jaw clenched. "I smelled her, Nyssa. I know her scent better than anyone. Don't tell me what I imagined."
Nyssa stepped closer, her bare feet whispering on stone. "Then you tell me. If Vanya's alive, after all you did to end her, what does that mean?"
Liora's fingers twitched at the dagger. It pulsed in reply, as if answering for her.
"It means she's no longer mortal," Liora said at last.
Nyssa's lips parted, but she said nothing. The silence between them thickened.
***
The disturbance came just before dawn.
A patrol stumbled back through the gates, breathless and pale. Three wolves in human skin, shivering as if the night had frozen their bones. Their leader, a scarred man named Korrin, dropped to his knees.
"We saw her."
The words spread like wildfire.
The courtyard stirred. Wolves crept from dens, ears sharp, tails low. Murmurs rose, questions snarling into fear.
"Who?" Gonzalo's voice cut across them all, heavy with command. The Alpha strode forward, his cloak thrown hastily over his shoulders, his hair unbound from sleep.
Korrin lifted his face, and his eyes were wild. "Vanya. Pale as the moon. Standing at the tree line. Watching us. We called to her, but she… she did not speak. She only stared. Then the wind…" He broke off, shuddering. "It carried her name. My name. In her voice."
The courtyard erupted. Some wolves growled in disbelief, others whispered prayers. Fear tangled with awe.
"She's dead," one muttered.
"She's risen," another hissed.
"She was never gone at all," someone else said.
Liora stood on the edge of the gathering, her blood gone cold. She wanted to silence them, to snarl them all into obedience. But she could not deny the way her own heart thrashed.
Nyssa's gaze found her across the crowd. It said everything without a word: This is what I warned you of.
***
The dagger would not leave her alone. It whispered in her head, a voice of iron and smoke.
She walks again. She will take what is yours. Strike before she strikes you.
Liora pressed her palm hard against the hilt until her nails cut skin. Be quiet, she thought fiercely. But it laughed, a sound that made her stomach turn.
***
By midday the pack was divided.
Half clamored to hunt the woods, to prove whether the story was true. The other half urged retreat, better to move the stronghold than risk the wrath of a spirit returned.
Gonzalo stood at the center, his authority fraying. For years he had ruled unchallenged, but now his words drew more doubt than obedience. His eyes slid, again and again, toward Liora. Toward the woman who had risen higher than any of them, who bore the dagger that frightened even the brave.
Finally he spoke. "If she is alive, then we will find her. If she is a spirit, then we will banish her. The pack does not tremble at shadows."
But the words rang hollow. The wolves wanted a leader who believed. And Gonzalo's calm certainty felt like blindness.
It was Liora they looked to now. Liora, who smelled the truth on the wind.
***
Nyssa found her again at the cliff's edge, staring into the endless forest. The healer's patience had thinned; her voice cracked with anger this time.
"You hear it too, don't you?" Nyssa demanded. "The dagger isn't whispering anymore, it's screaming in your veins. And you're listening."
Liora's hands curled around the stone ledge. "If she lives, I have to finish it."
"And if she doesn't?" Nyssa shot back. "If this is nothing but a curse inside you, clawing its way free? Then you'll kill and kill until there's no one left but you and that blade."
Liora turned on her, eyes blazing. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't feel it eating me alive?" Her voice broke, raw and bitter. "But if Vanya is truly back, Nyssa, she won't stop at me. She'll come for all of us. You. The pack. Every child in these walls. Tell me you'd rather I do nothing."
Nyssa flinched, but she didn't back away. She placed a hand on Liora's wrist, soft but firm. "I'd rather you remember you're not just the dagger's hand. You're Liora. My friend. My Alpha. Don't let it take that from you."
For a moment, silence held them. Then Liora wrenched her gaze away.
"I can't promise that," she whispered.
***
The sun sank. The forest darkened. Wolves gathered tighter in their dens, uneasy. The patrols doubled, but few wanted to leave the gates. Rumor spread quicker than fire: some said they heard her laugh in the trees, others swore they saw pale eyes watching through branches.
Gonzalo tried to steady them, but doubt grew like rot. His control was slipping.
And through it all, the scent thickened. Liora smelled it everywhere now. Vanya's scent. Sweet, sharp, impossible. It clung to the wind, it soaked into her skin, it followed her into every breath.
When the first howl came, it froze the blood of every wolf in the stronghold.
Low, rising, drawn-out. Not one of theirs.
A lone howl that cut through the valley, trembling with old power.
It was not the howl of a stranger.
It was Vanya's war cry.
The courtyard emptied as wolves rushed to the cliffs, ears pricked, hearts pounding. Liora led them, her cloak snapping behind her. Gonzalo stood rigid, fury and fear warring in his eyes.
The howl came again. Closer.
And then, beneath the silver wash of the moon, a shadow stepped from the tree line.
A woman's figure. Thin. Tall. Hair pale as bone.
The wolves stilled, their breath held.
She lifted her head.
Even from the cliffs, even across the distance of valley and forest, Liora felt the weight of those eyes. Familiar. Piercing.
The woman opened her mouth.
And she called Liora's name.
Liora didn't look back. She ran!