The smell of charred flesh lingered long after we returned to Silvercrest.
The rogue's body, with its carved crescent moon—crossed through—burned itself into my memory like a second death.
No one spoke to me on the ride back. Not even Dax.
Kael kept ahead, his back straight, his silence louder than any accusation. He hadn't said a word since he asked if I knew what the mark meant.
I told him I didn't.
And like a coward, he chose to believe me.
---
When we reached the Keep, the patrol scattered, eager to wash the blood and smoke from their skin. I swung off my horse, limbs sore from riding and bruised from the battle.
Dax fell into step beside me without speaking.
"You're not going to ask?" I finally said.
He kept walking. "I already know you're lying. I just don't know what about."
I stopped.
He did too, turning to face me.
"You think I carved that mark?" I asked.
"No. But I think you recognized it. And I think Kael saw it in your face."
"He didn't."
"Then he's even more dangerous than I thought."
I studied him. "Why do you care?"
"Because I've seen that look before. On wolves who had everything taken from them and came back pretending they didn't."
He didn't wait for a reply. He just nodded toward the east wing. "Come on. You're not sleeping in the barracks tonight."
---
The room he led me to was colder than the courtyard.
Stone walls. A single narrow window. A bed that looked like it hadn't been used in years. Dust on the mantel, but no guards. No watchers.
Safe.
"Don't leave," he said. "Kael won't ask questions until he has answers. And right now, you're the loudest question in the Keep."
"What happens when he finds the answer?"
Dax looked at me too long.
Then he left.
---
I sat by the unlit hearth, the silence pressing in like stone. My fingers trembled as I unwrapped the bandage from around my ribs. The bruise had spread—violet blooming into black.
I touched the skin over my heart. Not from the rogue fight. Not from anything recent.
A mark Aira had before I ever stole her bones.
That night, I dreamed of fire again.
A hall burning. Wolves screaming. My crown melting into my hair. Kael standing in the center, eyes gleaming gold.
"You never deserved the title," he said.
And then he turned away as the flames devoured me.
---
I woke choking.
And I wasn't alone.
A woman stood at the edge of the room. Cloaked. Still. Watching.
"Who are you?" I rasped.
"You don't remember me?"
I shook my head.
Her hood fell.
White hair. Pale skin. Eyes like cut glass.
"Thalia," she said. "Witch of the Pines. The one who gave you back your breath."
I froze.
She stepped closer. "You were ripped from your body. Torn from the moon's grace. But vengeance doesn't die. And neither did you."
"I didn't ask to come back."
"No. But your soul did."
She opened her palm. A scroll appeared, rolled in black ribbon.
"What is it?"
"A list. The names of those who stood in the room when you were betrayed."
I reached for it—
A knock.
She vanished.
The scroll dropped to the floor.
Dax opened the door, breath sharp.
"They found something," he said.
I blinked, heartbeat still climbing.
"What?"
"In the old crypt. Beneath the Keep."
"What did they find?"
He looked at me like he already knew the answer.
"Your name. Carved in stone."
---
Kael didn't look at me when I entered the chamber.
He stood at the center of the old crypt, torchlight flickering across his face. Beside him, a slab of ancient granite. Dust smeared with new fingerprints.
The letters carved into it were clean.
SELENE NIGHTSHADE
LUNA OF SILVERCREST
BETRAYED.
A date beneath it. My death. The very night I bled out on the Keep floor while my mate stood by.
My lungs seized. My knees threatened to buckle.
"You recognize it," Kael said.
I didn't answer.
"Someone carved this after her death. Not before. This wasn't meant for the public. This was hidden. Someone wanted her remembered—quietly."
I swallowed. "What does this have to do with me?"
Kael turned to face me.
"That's what I intend to find out."
---
Back in my room, the scroll sat untouched on the floor.
My fingers hovered over it. I didn't unroll it.
Because I didn't want to know the names.
Not yet.
But I would.
Soon.
---
I dreamt again. But this time, it wasn't fire.
It was water.
A river of blood. A voice beneath it.
She's still inside me.
I jolted upright.
Aira.
---
The next morning, Dax found me in the garden.
He handed me a blade. A real one.
"Training starts today," he said.
"With who?"
"With me."
"And if I refuse?"
"You won't."
He was right.
We fought under the cold sun, blades ringing. He was faster. I was meaner.
By the end of it, we were both bleeding.
"Tell me something," he said as he cleaned his blade.
"What?"
"When you fight—it's not instinct. It's memory, isn't it?"
I met his eyes.
And didn't lie.
"Yes."
He nodded like he'd known all along.
---
Later, alone in the library wing, I found an old book.
Tucked deep. Forgotten.
I opened it to a page marked by dust and time.
A sigil.
The same as the one carved into the rogue's chest.
Crescent. Crossed.
A name below it.
The Severed Moon.
A forgotten faction.
An execution order.
Marked: Selene Nightshade.
---
Outside, the bells began to toll.
Someone had died.
And in the silence between rings, I knew something else:
I wasn't the only one reborn.