Chapter 5 Of Ash and Shadows

The night pressed around them like a shroud as Amara and Kieran raced through the forest, Lucas unconscious in Kieran's arms. Moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting silver veins across their path, glinting off dried blood on Kieran's cheek and highlighting the tight fury that clung to Amara like armor.

They hadn't spoken in over an hour. Not since the last howl.

Not since Amara had looked down at her son's trembling, sweat-slicked body and felt something ancient stir within him, something she couldn't name, let alone control.

The forest, once a refuge, now pulsed with threat. Shadows shifted like predators. The trees whispered warnings in a language older than memory. Every rustle made Amara's muscles twitch, every gust of wind a possible signal of pursuit.

She broke the silence, voice low but sharp. "How much farther, Kieran?"

He didn't glance back. "Two miles. There's a river. Wide, fast. If we cross it, they'll lose the scent."

Amara's eyes narrowed. "Unless they shift. Then they'll follow us, current or not."

"They won't," he said evenly. "Not where we're going."

There was something in his voice, an edge she didn't like.

She exhaled hard. "You're asking me to trust you with my son. And you're leading us into darkness."

"I'm leading you to the only place left that might save him."

Amara's lip curled. "And what do you get out of it?"

He didn't answer immediately. "Redemption, maybe."

She scoffed. "You don't get to ask for that."

They walked in brittle silence, branches snapping underfoot, the scent of moss and decay thickening. Lucas stirred, moaning, his skin glowing again, faint, ember-like pulses under his flesh.

Kieran stopped abruptly. "He's burning up."

Amara was at his side in a breath. Her hand went to Lucas's forehead, fevered and damp. "No, no, not now..." She fumbled through her satchel, fingers closing on a small vial. The liquid inside shimmered blue.

Kieran eyed it. "What is that?"

"Elixir. Brewed by a crone in the eastern mountains."

His brow furrowed. "You're drugging him?"

"I'm keeping him from detonating."

Lucas coughed weakly as she coaxed the liquid past his lips. The glow dulled, his breathing eased.

Kieran's gaze lingered on the boy. "What is he, Amara?"

"He's our son."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Amara didn't answer. Her mind flashed back to the prophecy, those inked glyphs in her grandmother's cottage; The Child of Fire and Fang shall awaken the sleeping gods.

She had tried to forget it.

She couldn't now.

Kieran spoke again, voice hushed. "I've seen power. I've watched an alpha tear through a battlefield. I've seen the madness of rogues. But this... this is something else. Something old. Ancient."

Amara met his gaze. "Don't start speaking like you understand him."

"I don't. But I know enough to be afraid."

A heavy pause fell.

Then Amara said, "We keep moving."

Kieran nodded, shifting Lucas gently in his arms. They pressed on, trees thinning as the roar of water grew louder. The forest floor turned rocky, slick with mist. Amara could taste metal in the air, wrongness.

She stopped suddenly. "Do you smell that?"

Kieran stiffened. "Rot."

They emerged onto the riverbank, and the stench hit them fully.

Shapes slithered from the shadows. Not wolves. Not men.

Rogues.

Twisted bodies. Jaws are too wide. Eyes glowing red. Black saliva dripping like oil.

Four of them.

Amara stepped forward, fire curling around her hands. "Stay back," she warned.

One rogue leapt.

Kieran shifted mid-stride, fur tearing through skin, bones snapping. He roared and collided with the rogue midair, teeth and claws slashing.

Amara flung a jet of flame at the second. It shrieked, writhing in fire. The third lunged, she spun, catching it with a blast to the chest.

Lucas stirred.

Then, he sat up.

Eyes white.

He raised his hand, voice booming with unnatural resonance: "Enough!"

Everything stopped.

The wind halted.

The river paused.

The remaining rogues dropped to their knees, whining, eyes clouding to gray.

Then Lucas collapsed.

Silence snapped back in.

Amara rushed to him. Kieran, fur matted with blood, stood frozen.

"What the hell was that?" he breathed.

"I don't know," Amara whispered.

But she did. A part of her did.

They crossed the river in silence, its icy water licking at their knees. Mist swirled thick on the far bank, swallowing them whole. Beyond the veil of fog, the forest opened into a hidden valley, a hollow forgotten by time.

Nestled against the cliffside was a cottage built of blackened wood and bone. Green lanterns pulsed at the threshold like warning beacons.

Amara stopped. "This is the place?"

Kieran nodded grimly. "She lives here."

"She?"

"Magda. An old enemy. She owes me her life."

The door creaked open before they could knock.

A woman stepped out, tall, wrapped in frayed gray robes. Her hair, long and white as snow, hung in tangled ropes. Her eyes were black voids.

She sneered. "Well. Look what the wolves dragged in."

Kieran bowed his head. "Magda."

Amara stepped forward. "We need shelter. And answers."

Magda's gaze flicked to Lucas. Her smirk faded. Something dark flickered behind her eyes.

She stepped aside. "Come in, then. The air stinks of gods waking. I can feel it in my bones."

The door groaned shut behind them.

Inside, the air was thick with herbs, smoke, and magic that buzzed like bees in Amara's ears. The walls were covered in glyphs. Strange bones hung from the rafters.

Magda led them to the hearth. "Lay the child there. Carefully."

Amara hesitated. "Can you help him?"

Magda crouched beside Lucas, hand hovering above his chest. Her eyes widened slightly.

"I can try," she said. "But something in him... it's not meant to sleep."

Kieran glanced at Amara. "We should talk. Alone."

Magda waved a hand. "Use the back room. Just don't break anything. Or bleed on my runes."

Amara followed Kieran down a shadowed corridor, the walls pulsing faintly with magic.

As the door shut behind them, she crossed her arms. "What is it?"

He stared at her for a moment. Then: "If the prophecy is true... we're already too late to stop what's coming."

Amara's heart pounded. "What do you mean?"

Kieran stepped closer. "I mean the Bloodfangs aren't the only ones hunting Lucas. Something older is awake. And it's looking for him."

She shook her head. "No. He's just a child..."

"He's a spark. The world is dry kindling."

A floorboard creaked behind them.

They turned.

Magda stood in the doorway, face pale.

"There's something else," she said slowly. "Something... under his skin. A mark that shouldn't exist."

"What kind of mark?" Amara asked.

Magda's voice was barely a whisper. "A god's brand."

And then the ground beneath them trembled, just once, like a heartbeat.

Distant.

Warning.

Amara froze.

Kieran's jaw clenched.

And Lucas, from the other room, cried out a single word in a language none of them knew.

A name.

And something ancient answered.