Elena stepped down from the carriage beside Thalia, the night air brushing cold fingers across their cloaks. Thalia's hood was a deep forest green, Elena's a muted crimson—both swallowed quickly by the shadows of the street.
Glass cracked beneath Thalia's boot. She paused before the building, its windows fractured like old bones—some boarded, some left to gape open and hollow. The whole structure leaned a little, as if decades of neglect had pushed it into a tired bow.
Baltim Sector. Thalia exhaled slowly.
Once the pride of early Glatith, named for one of the kingdom's founding leaders. Now? Just the remains of the Stone family's fall—of a civil war they sparked, of the pact that drove their survivors underground. Altor glittered along the Tybor River, its other sectors thriving with merchants, scholars, nobles, and soldiers. But Baltim… Baltim had been left to rot.
"Still feels wrong," Thalia murmured, scanning the empty street. "The rest of Altor pretends this place slid off the map."
Elena nodded, fingertips brushing Thimil under her cloak. "Every sector points toward the future. Baltim just points back at its own ghosts."
Thalia huffed—half a laugh, half disappointment. "Backward, forgotten, and full of idiots who think the dark doesn't bite."
Elena stepped forward and grabbed the rusted door handle. The hinges gave a long, chilling creak as they swung open.
She grimaced. "Damn thing always makes that noise."
"So this is where you meet him?" Thalia asked, peering into the black hallway.
"No," Elena said lightly as she stepped inside. "He usually sneaks through the forest and climbs to my window."
Thalia blinked. "He's been slipping past the guards for ten years?"
"Yup." Elena didn't even slow her pace. "Routine at this point."
Thalia watched her niece vanish into the darkness and muttered under her breath, "Wonderful. A criminally talented wolf shadow who treats noble security like a child's game."
With a bracing exhale, she followed her into the dark.
Thalia couldn't see a damn thing—only the soft shuffle of Elena's footsteps somewhere ahead of her. Instinct tugged at her fingers, urging fire into her palm, but one spark in a place this old? The whole structure might go up like dry tinder.
"Elena," Thalia hissed into the dark, "where are you? I'd rather not burn the building down trying to find you."
"Oh—over here." Elena's voice echoed faintly, directionless in the pitch black.
Thalia turned toward the sound and immediately slammed her hip into the edge of a table. Wood groaned; she bit back a curse.
Elena chuckled, clearly amused by her aunt's struggle. "Hold on. There's a lamp somewhere over here…"
A few seconds passed, then— click.
A lone corner of the room bloomed with cold, blue lamplight, casting long, skeletal shadows across the walls. Thalia lifted a hand to shield her eyes, blinking as the dim shapes around her sharpened into clarity.
"Thanks," she muttered, lowering her hand.
But as her vision settled, a chill crept down her spine.
A dining table stood exactly as if a family had stepped away moments ago—plates laid out, spoons half-turned, a cup tipped but never fallen. A couch slumped against the wall on top neat stack of folded clothes, untouched, collecting dust like a grave marker. Pots and pans still hung over the stove, where an abandoned ladle rested as though waiting for someone to return from fetching water.
The room wasn't abandoned. It was interrupted.
Frozen mid-life.
Elena drifted to a wooden chair near the corner. A small stuffed animal sat propped on its seat—its button eyes staring at nothing, its fur gray with dust. Waiting. Forever waiting.
"Poor people," Elena whispered, her fingers brushing the toy with aching gentleness.
Thalia swallowed, the weight of the silence pressing in like a held breath.
Even she—Flame of Helver—felt the ghosts here.
"What happened?" Thalia could only mutter.
"War," Elena spoke softly, as her hands left the toy.
"Yeah, Baltim was the first sector to fall in the Civil War."
A voice—deep, familiar—cut through the stillness.
Elena froze.
Both she and Thalia turned as amber eyes met gold.
Jake.
Her breath caught. Her heart lunged painfully—relief, shock, and something deeper crashing through her all at once. The last image she had of him flashed behind her eyes: the arrow buried in his side, blood soaking his armor, the way he'd still pushed forward after Borris Dale, refusing to rest, refusing to stop. The fear that had built up was tightening around her ribs like a vise, and finally gave.
And now… he stood there.
Alive.
"Jake," Elena exhaled, the name leaving her like a prayer she didn't realize she'd been holding.
"Hello, fox," he said softly as he stepped out of the shadows. After four days of rest, he could finally use them again without pain.
She didn't walk to him. She ran.
Jake caught her as she collided with him, wrapping his arms around her as his tail wagged hard enough to thump against his leg.
Thalia, for once, kept silent. She let them have this moment.
"You're an idiot," Elena said into his chest, voice muffled and trembling—not angry, just overwhelmed. "You scared me half to death."
"Sorry, Paprika," Jake murmured, breathing in the caramel warmth of her scent. He chuckled softly. "But I'm here."
Thalia cleared her throat pointedly. Both of them pulled apart—Elena flushing crimson. Jake only grinned.
"Well, looks like luck's on my side," he said lightly, remembering Elena telling him he wouldn't be so lucky next time they met.
Thalia raised a brow. "I can't kill my niece's lover. But I can absolutely beat you senseless."
"Auntie!" Elena sputtered as Jake and Thalia both laughed.
Elena glared at the two, "I swear," she sighed.
"Love you," Jake said, mirth still lacing his voice.
"Yeah, yeah, love you too," Elena pouted, her cheeks red.
"Your letter—why did you want me here?" Thalia asked, recalling how he had specifically written that she needed to come with Elena.
"Because you're the one who's going to publicly capture Forrest," Jake said, his golden eyes sharpening with resolve.
Thalia's amber eyes widened. "Do you have all the proof?"
In Altor, the law demanded undeniable evidence to convict someone of slavery. Authorities could investigate and detain suspects when rumors surfaced, but nobles were a different matter entirely. To arrest one of them, the proof had to be absolute—clear, irrefutable, and sanctioned to withstand the scrutiny of their protected status.
Jake nodded as he pulled out a satchel from a hiding spot, "This holds ship manifests and written admissions," he said. "Gellen's confession is good, but they'll argue it was a political ploy. This—" he raised the satchel "—this can't be argued. Blood signatures. Direct proof."
Thalia's lips lifted. Blood signatures were rare and binding—lies were punished by death when the document was burned in a trial.
"Damn," she breathed. "That's… something."
Jake handed her the satchel. "Hard-won. And the best proof will be catching him in the act. Two days from now."
Elena and Thalia exchanged a look—mirrored amber eyes asking the same silent question.
"Forrest has a shipment coming," Jake said. "He'll be there. Even in hiding, he won't miss it."
His tail wagged.
Thalia nodded, then scratched her cheek awkwardly. "Oh—and uh… tell the bear and the dwarf I'm sorry for blowing them up."
Jake barked a laugh. "He's not a dwarf. Just a very short human."
Thalia squinted. "You sure? He's short, uses an axe, loud, temperamental—"
"No beard," Jake reminded.
Elena snorted.
"The bear is fine," Jake continued as he scratched his stubble, "He's our tank, so you didn't hurt him."
"Where is he from?" Thalia asked, also recalling the massive bear she threw fireballs at.
"He's from Daluncit," Jake answered. Elena's eyes went wide as she remembered a teaching of that.
"You mean Dan is from the ancestor mountains?" Elena said, eyes sparkling as she mentioned Daluncit's more popular name.
"Yup," Jake scoffed.
"No wonder he's a mountain," Elena said, remembering how Dan was over 9ft tall in human form.
Elena went quiet for a moment, then she seized Jake in another fierce hug—so sudden he stumbled.
"Whoa—what's this?" he laughed breathlessly.
"I just want to make sure…" She buried her face against him, breathing him in. "You're okay."
Jake softened. He brushed his hand through her red hair, slow and tender.
"I'm here," he murmured. "I'm okay."
She squeezed him tighter.