Midnight.
The coldest hour. The darkest breath of the world.
Anna moved.
No signal. No farewell. She and two Fox-folk slipped from the camp like ghosts shedding their skins, dissolving into the night.
This time, she chose the worse path.
The smarter path.
They followed the wastewater stream.
Upstream.
The current was black and sluggish, reeking of sulfur, rust, and something that burned the throat just by breathing it in. It soaked through their boots in moments, the icy filth wrapping tight around their ankles.
It was unbearable.
It was perfect.
No scent.
No tracks.
Only poison.
Ahead, the mine's wall loomed—silent, massive, like the spine of something long dead that refused to collapse.
Anna raised a hand.
They split.
No searching. No hesitation.
They climbed.
Fingers found gaps no wider than a nail. Toes pressed into splinters and imperfections no human eye would notice. Their bodies moved without weight, clinging to the vertical logs like insects crawling over bone.
Shadow swallowed them whole.
Anna reached the top.
Then—
A sneeze.
Loud. Sudden.
Right above her.
Her body froze.
Pressed flat against the wall. Breath gone. Pulse buried.
Above, the sentry muttered, rubbing his nose. His spear dragged lazily against the wood.
He swayed.
Drowsy.
Unaware.
Three feet below him—
three hunters stared into his life.
Anna signaled.
They moved.
Over.
Down.
They landed without a sound.
Inside.
The smell hit harder this time.
Rot. Waste. Despair.
Thick enough to taste.
Anna didn't react.
Couldn't.
Emotion was death here.
She moved through the shanties like a memory—turning without looking, navigating by instinct burned into her mind.
The mine had changed.
Or maybe it hadn't.
Maybe she just saw it clearer now.
More bodies curled in corners.
More silence where there should have been voices.
But also—
Eyes.
Watching.
Not empty.
Not dead.
Burning.
Fear. Hatred. Hope twisted into something sharp.
Broken Tooth had done his work.
The fire was there.
Waiting.
She reached the shack.
Paused.
Listened.
Then—
"Coo… coo-coo…"
A whisper of sound.
The board shifted instantly.
A single bloodshot eye appeared in the gap.
Alive.
Awake.
Hungry.
She slipped inside.
"Say it," Broken Tooth rasped. No greeting. No delay. "When?"
"Tomorrow. Before dawn."
Each word struck like iron.
"First signal—South Gate. Noise. War drums."
"Ready."
He nodded, jaw tight.
"Second signal—West Wall. The tallest tower."
Her eyes hardened.
"When it burns—"
A breath.
"—you move."
His fingers curled.
"Tear everything apart."
Her voice dropped lower.
"Three groups."
"Workshop. Take weapons."
"Barracks. Lock them in. Burn them."
"Deep mine. Break every cage."
"Flood the pit."
Broken Tooth's chest rose and fell like something barely contained.
"The keys—" he cut in. "We found them."
Anna's gaze sharpened.
"The Butcher. Overseer chief. Keeps them on his belt. Always. Sleeps in the stone house. Two guards. Never leaves."
A flicker of killing intent crossed her face.
"Then kill him."
Simple.
"If you can't—break the chains."
Her voice turned colder.
"Rocks. Teeth. Blood. I don't care."
"Break them."
"Understood."
His voice wasn't hoarse anymore.
It was alive.
"Three thousand wolf-bloods are waiting," he said, trembling—not with fear, but with anticipation. "We've waited long enough."
Anna studied him.
Then reached inside her coat.
Seven small bottles.
Green light flickered faintly within them, like trapped fireflies.
She pressed them into his hand.
"Use this."
He blinked.
"…What is it?"
"Holy water."
No hesitation.
"From the Wolf King."
The words hung heavy.
"Mix it. One to twenty. It heals."
Broken Tooth stared at the bottles like they might bite.
Then at her.
Then back.
He didn't question further.
He pulled a cork.
Tilted it.
A single drop fell onto the torn flesh of his arm.
It hissed.
Soft.
Alive.
The wound… moved.
Closed.
Flesh knitting before his eye.
In seconds—
it was gone.
He didn't breathe.
Didn't move.
"The Wolf God…"
His voice broke.
Not from weakness.
From belief.
This wasn't medicine.
This was power.
He clutched the bottles like they were the future itself.
Something in him shifted.
Colin was no longer a leader.
Not even a king.
Something higher.
Something that could command life itself.
"…God…"
The word escaped him before he could stop it.
His eye burned brighter.
"Your will… will tear this place apart."
Anna said nothing.
She just looked at him one last time.
Cold.
Certain.
"Stay alive."
Then she was gone.
Back into the dark.
The wall again.
Up.
Over.
Down.
The forest swallowed them whole.
When Anna returned, the horizon was already changing.
A thin gray light stretched across the east.
Cold.
Lifeless.
Dawn was coming.
And with it—
fire.
Chains would break.
Blood would answer blood.
And the first scream—
would not be one of despair.