Aurelia's POV
The child came back at dawn.
Not carried. Not bound. Just walking out of the trees with dirt-stained knees and eyes too old for his small face. Two Nightfall scouts released him at the edge of the clearing and disappeared without a word, melting into the forest like smoke pulled backward.
No tricks. No chase.
That alone made my skin crawl.
Kaia was the first to reach him. She dropped to her knees, arms wrapping tight around his thin shoulders, sobbing into his hair. He clung to her like he was afraid she might vanish if he loosened his grip.
"He didn't hurt me," the boy whispered shakily. "He just… talked."
The words hit harder than any wound could have.
Lucien knelt beside them, his voice gentle. "What did he say?"
The child hesitated, then looked at me. His eyes were clear, searching—too aware.
"He said you were choosing," he said. "And that everyone would have to live with it."
A chill slid down my spine.
Raffyn swore under his breath. "That bastard."
Silvara crouched in front of the boy, her expression carefully neutral. "Did he ask you to remember anything else?"
The child frowned, thinking. Then he shook his head. "Just that he'd see you soon."
Soon.
Not if.
Talon stepped back, eyes distant, already fitting pieces together. "He wanted us to know the child wasn't leverage anymore."
Lucien frowned. "Then what was the point?"
I closed my eyes briefly.
"He wanted to prove restraint," I said. "And confidence."
Raffyn scoffed. "That's supposed to impress us?"
"No," Silvara said quietly. "It's supposed to unsettle you."
And it worked.
The pack gathered slowly as word spread that the child was safe. Relief washed through them—raw, emotional, desperate. Some wept openly. Others clasped hands, murmuring thanks to the moon, to luck, to anything that listened.
Their gratitude turned toward me.
Not worship.
Expectation.
I felt it like weight settling across my shoulders.
Elder Bram approached hesitantly. "You were right," he said. "Staying… it worked."
"For now," I replied.
He nodded. "What happens next?"
I looked past him to the treeline, where the forest watched in quiet patience.
"Now," I said, "we stop pretending this is only about borders."
Lucien straightened slightly. "You're thinking about the meeting."
"Yes," I said. "But not the way he wants it."
Talon's gaze sharpened. "You're not going alone."
"I know."
Raffyn crossed his arms. "Good. Because if he thinks this ends with polite conversation—"
"It won't," I said softly.
Silvara studied me closely. "He gave you back the child because he believes you'll come to him willingly."
I met her gaze. "He's wrong."
Her lips curved faintly. "Careful. Men like Jarek rarely are."
The pack began dispersing, relief slowly giving way to exhaustion. The boy was ushered away, surrounded by hands and voices that promised safety, normalcy, tomorrow.
I watched him go.
He had been returned.
But something else had been taken in his place.
That night, as the camp settled into uneasy quiet, I stood at the edge of the ward alone. The magic hummed beneath my skin, steady but alert.
Lucien joined me without a word.
"He's already inside your next move," he said gently.
"Maybe," I replied. "But he's assuming I'll choose between sacrifice and surrender."
Lucien tilted his head. "And what will you choose?"
I looked up at the moon, full and unblinking.
"I'll choose neither," I said. "I'll change the game."
Somewhere far beyond the trees, I felt it—Jarek's attention shifting, tightening.
The return had not ended the threat.
It had only confirmed what we both knew.
The war was no longer approaching.
It had already begun.