The border crossing was uneventful.
Lyra presented her documents—a Canadian passport in the name of a woman who had died fifty years ago, updated periodically by her father's contacts. The guard barely glanced at it. She was through in minutes.
Mira followed in a separate car, her own documents legitimate. They met at a rest stop ten kilometers north of the border and waited.
Kael arrived an hour later.
He emerged from the trees in human form, pulling on clothes that Mira had brought. His hair was damp with sweat, and his eyes were bright—the wolf still close to the surface.
"Any trouble?" Lyra asked.
"No. The forest is empty this time of year. I didn't see anyone."
They continued north. The highway narrowed, became a secondary road, then a gravel track. Mira's grandmother's map led them toward a peak shaped like a tooth—visible now on the horizon, a jagged spire of rock.
"There," Mira said, pointing. "The cave should be at its base."
They parked the cars and continued on foot. The trail was faint—more an animal path than a human one. Kael led, his senses alert. Lyra followed, her own awareness stretching into the darkness.
The cave entrance was hidden behind a waterfall. Icy water plunged from a cliff above, creating a curtain that obscured the opening. Kael stepped through first, then reached back for Lyra's hand.
Inside, the cave was dry. Cold. The walls were covered in symbols—the same binding marks from the tunnel, but older. More weathered.
"The Place of Still Water," Lyra whispered.
At the center of the cave, a pool of dark water reflected the faint light from the entrance. It was perfectly still. No ripples. No movement. Like glass.
Kael knelt beside it. "There's something down there."
Lyra joined him. Beneath the surface, barely visible, was a stone altar. Identical to the one in the tunnel. But this one was whole. Unbroken.
"The second bond," she said.
And as she spoke, the water began to glow.