We moved on, past the hut and down a narrow path leading toward the old edge of the village. The ground was torn up in places. Torches lay scattered like someone had fled in panic. Will led the way, silent, body tense. Rex behind him, and I held Niva’s hand as she carried the youngest child close to her chest.

  Suddenly, Will stopped. I saw his body stiffen.

  “What is it?” I asked quietly.

  He didn’t answer, just stepped forward cautiously. Something lay on the ground, partly covered in snow. A body. Face turned away. A worn, dark sweater. A cane a few feet away. It couldn’t be…

  “No,” I whispered. “Will… is it…?”

  Will knelt slowly, turning the body.

  I held my breath.

  “It’s not Sac,” he said finally, voice low but steady. “It’s Luan. One of the sentries.”

  I exhaled, but it didn’t help. My heart still pounded.

  Niva knelt beside the body. “They’re starting to leave them out in the open. To scare us.”

  “It’s working,” Rex said hoarsely.

  Will stood, eyes hard. “We have to go to the river. Sac mentioned a hideout there. If he made it… that’s where he went.”

  We followed the brook downward until the trees thinned and the ground softened. A faint sound of water led us to a clearing—and there, by the riverbank, someone lay.

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  “There!” I cried.

  We ran forward.

  It was Sac.

  He was lying on his side, unconscious, covered in mud and blood. His clothes were torn, but his chest rose—slowly, but it rose.

  “He’s alive!” I screamed.

  Will dropped to his knees beside him. “He needs care, but he’s strong. This won’t kill him.”

  Niva gripped my arm. “That means there are more.”

  “The children,” I whispered. “And Amelia.”

  We followed the tracks deeper into the forest. Distant voices echoed. Will signaled for us to stop. We crawled up to a ridge and looked down into a clearing.

  A camp.

  Torches. Armed guards. And in the middle—cages.

  I felt my whole body tense.

  There, behind the bars, small movements. Someone shifted. Children. Huddled together. Some cried. Others stared blankly.

  And Amelia. She sat in front. Bound. Wounded across the face.

  “They have them…” Niva whispered. “All of them.”

  Will pressed his lips together. I saw the fury in him, the fire growing behind his eyes.

  But before anyone could move, a new voice rang out.

  A powerful voice. Familiar.

  Sacra.

  Two guards dragged her into the clearing, hands bound behind her back, cane gone. She bled from one shoulder, but held her head high.

  The children stirred. Some tried to call out, quickly silenced.

  A man—dressed in black with a wolf pelt over his shoulders—stood before her. I couldn’t hear it all, just fragments.

  “…too much time… your days are numbered… the light dies with her.”

  Sacra didn’t reply.

  And then—suddenly, without warning—he raised his hand.

  A claw. A slash.

  Sacra fell.

  I gasped. Dropped to my knees. My body went numb.

  “No…” I whispered. “No, no, no…”

  Will gripped my shoulder.

  Tightly.

  “We will get them back,” he said. His voice trembled, but his eyes burned. “We will take everything back.”