Chapter 3

Chapter 3
Selene’s POV

I stopped in the middle of saying yes, Lyra’s head snapping toward the entrance at the same time as mine.

A very young guard stood there, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly. There was mud splattered across his guard boots, and there was blood running down one side of his face. My guess was that he had scraped his face across a thorn as he was running here.

“Alpha,” he said in a shaky and breathless voice. He paused, placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

Lyra immediately straightened, looking worried. There was nothing she took more seriously than the well-being of her people; they couldn’t have asked for a better Alpha.

“What happened?” she asked. I could sense a tinge of worry in her voice.

“We found a body.”

The playful atmosphere that had been slowly disappearing vanished instantly.

“What kind of body?” Lyra asked, knowing that for him to panic like this, it had to be serious. Maybe it was the manner of death.

The guard swallowed hard. “A Fae.”

I slowly lowered the cup in my hand that I had just picked up. Lyra exchanged a glance with me, her worry clearly mounting.
“Where?” we asked at the exact same time.

“North border. Near one of the old boundaries between SilverClaw and the Outbounds. It’s not far from the packhouse at all.”

“What?” I asked again in a hoarse voice.

“Was there a fight?” Lyra added, obviously trying to piece whatever the hell was happening together.

“We don’t know,” he said honestly, still panting. The guard hesitated. “Alpha… you should see it for yourself.”

Lyra was already standing up and adjusting her robes. “Take me there.”

Something in his voice made the hairs on my arms rise, and Lyra noticed it too.

“Selene, stay here.”

I stood up as well. What if it was Violetta? What if she had come to see me and was killed? But who would even do that?

“No. I am going with you.”

She looked at me and sighed. “Selene, I think you should—”

“If you’re going, I’m coming,” I said, interrupting her immediately.

“This isn’t—”

“I’m coming,” I said with complete finality.

She stared at me for a very long moment before sighing in resignation. “Fine.”

The guard turned and hurried ahead, Lyra following right behind him while I fell into step beside her.

Neither of us spoke as we walked out of her quarters, through the main packhouse, and out into the courtyard. Everything suddenly felt different, and it was quite surprising how quickly the mood could change in a matter of minutes.

A few minutes ago, we had been laughing about my parents and their endless parade of suitors, and now we were facing the dread of a dead Fae on our lands. Even the people milling about were whispering in hushed tones.

Something had happened.

Something bad. I mean, if a Fae had died on our land and it wasn’t a natural death, that risked inciting war. The Fae didn’t like wolves under normal circumstances; SilverClaw and the Outbounds had only become an exception because of Thorne.

As we kept moving, we entered a narrow path leading away from the packhouse. The guard had said it was not very far, but my legs were already aching. As we walked further, I noticed something strange: an eerie, heavy silence hung over the woods, broken only by our footsteps. I couldn’t even hear the usual sounds of birds or insects.

Eventually, we reached the border he mentioned. Several wolves were gathered around something on the ground.

They parted when Lyra approached, and I stopped beside her.

The body lay on its back beneath the trees.

A tall Fae woman.

My heart began to thump wildly in my chest as I looked down at her. Torn clothes, unnaturally pale skin… and strangely enough, there was no obvious wound that could explain her death.

“Turn her over,” Lyra instructed quietly.

The guard who had led us stepped forward and complied slowly, adjusting her posture.

Relief washed over me instantly. It wasn’t Violetta.

But still, something was terribly wrong.

Her eyes were open and completely black. And the black wasn’t just because she was dead—it was almost as if someone had deliberately poured dark ink into her eyes.

Like someone had poured ink beneath her skin.

Lyra crouched beside her and leaned closer. “What do you think happened?” she asked, looking at the patrol wolves standing near.

“We found her like this.”

“Any tracks? Or signs of anyone else?”

“Nothing.”

“Blood? Maybe it dried somewhere nearby?”

“Almost none.”

“Almost?” I raised my eyebrows.

“I mean… there’s barely any blood around her. But she’s dead.”

Lyra carefully extended her hand over the woman’s chest without touching her, her eyes narrowing. “Her magic.”

“What about it?” I asked, looking at her expectantly. She wielded magic herself, so maybe she could sense something.

“It’s gone.”

I frowned. “What do you mean, gone? Of course it’s gone, she’s dead.”

Lyra looked at me and sighed, as if explaining something basic. “Fae carry magic in their bodies. It’s part of who they are. You can feel the residue whether they’re alive or dead.” She looked back at the corpse. “There’s nothing here at all. But she’s clearly Fae.”

A cold chill moved down my spine. “Someone took it? Drained her?”

“I think so.”

Someone had killed a Fae and somehow ripped the magic clean out of her body.

One of the guards muttered a curse under his breath. “Could the wolves have done this? Maybe someone with—”

Lyra’s head snapped toward him. “No.”

“I wasn’t accusing—”

“I know what you were doing,” she snapped coldly. “We don’t kill without reason. And whatever did this wasn’t a wolf.”

I stared down at the body because something else about it felt deeply unsettling.

There was something familiar about the scene, and for some reason, I couldn’t quite place it.

I stepped closer, and Lyra immediately caught my arm. “Selene.”

“Wait,” I said to her.

She loosened her grip. I crouched lower, staring at the woman’s skin covered in dirt.

Her hair had fallen across one side of her neck and chest.
I gently moved the strands aside and froze.

There was a mark carved into the skin just beneath her collarbone.

It was a circle with three curved lines intersecting through the centre, and a small break at the bottom.

My heart stopped immediately.

I knew that mark.

I knew it better than I knew my own reflection, because I had spent the last several years looking at it anytime I woke up in my room.

The bird Violetta had carved… it had that exact same mark in the wood.