CHAPTER 37: SAVED FROM DEATH

I was dreaming.

No—reliving.

The scene returned like a cruel loop, playing over and over in my head.

My mother’s scream.

Finn’s wolf lunging forward, fangs flashing under the pale light.

Blood.

It spilled across the ground in rivers, hot and metallic, splattering against my face and soaking through my clothes.

I tried to run to her, but the weight of her blood pressed me down. My hands were painted red.

My mother’s body collapsed, and Finn’s wolf stood over her with bloodied fangs, eyes glowing like coals.

"Stop!" I heard myself cry, but my voice was weak, lost in the roar of my wolf’s panic inside me.

Leika’s howl joined mine, the sound fracturing, breaking apart as though even she couldn’t withstand the sight.

Blood, again and again.

I blinked, but it was still there. It wouldn’t wash away. The ground was drenched, my palms slick, my clothes sticky.

And Finn. His fangs, his claws, his golden gaze, his rage.

The nightmare smothered me, replaying until I couldn’t breathe.

Then—

I jolted awake.

My chest rose and fell in quick gasps, my throat dry as if I’d swallowed ash. My eyes darted to my hands, terrified they would still be stained red. But they were clean.

Pale. Trembling.

It wasn’t real. It was only a dream.

Yet my heart didn’t stop racing.

I pushed myself upright, the sheets clinging on my skin, and blinked at my surroundings.

The bed beneath me was wide and impossibly soft, the mattress sinking just enough to cradle my weight, its coverings darker than midnight and smelling faintly of smoke and something foreign.

The room itself was unlike anything I had ever seen.

It stretched spaciously, yet the absence of windows pressed a kind of closeness against my chest.

The walls weren’t of wood or brick but carved rock, smooth and polished as though shaped by careful hands, gleaming faintly under the dim glow of a light source I couldn’t find. It was as if the shadows themselves emitted the glow.

The floor was marbled and spotless, its sheen reflecting pieces of the chamber like a distorted mirror.

It wasn’t a dungeon, though it felt like it could have been.

There were no chains bolted to the walls, no rank stench of mold or rust. No puddles of filth gathering in corners. Instead, everything was clean, too clean. The air was sharp and neat, as if not a speck of dust dared exist here.

A smoky scent lingered in the space, curling into my nose, not unpleasant, but strange.

It wasn’t woodsmoke or ash, nothing I could tie to hearths or fires. It reminded me more of incense, something meant to soothe.

Against my will, it steadied the frantic beat of my heart, settling my nerves for only the span of a few breaths.

But calm never lasted long.

Memories came flashing back to my mind.

The cliff. The failed jump. The sudden lurch of air under my body.

The river swallowing me whole, its roar drowning out my own scream.

The water dragging me down, colder than death, slicing through my bones until I couldn’t feel them anymore.

And then, something else.

Something warm.

A presence that broke through the water’s grip, wrapping me, pulling me free of the current’s chokehold.

I should have drowned. My lungs had burned. My vision had dimmed. My body had already gone slack.

I should have been gone.

But I wasn’t.

I was alive.

Saved.

By who?

’I don’t know either,’ Leika murmured inside me, her voice groggy, as though she had only just surfaced from sleep herself. ’But I’m glad we didn’t die in that river. It was too cold. Everything was slipping.’

I pressed a shaky hand against my chest, as if to make sure my heart was still beating beneath.

Saved, yes. But by whom? And for what reason? Being alive in a stranger’s den didn’t necessarily mean comfort.

My eyes darted across the chamber again, searching for signs.

Nothing gave away who lived here, no markings of a family or pack.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed.

The marble floor bit cold into my soles, the chill crawling instantly up my bones. My body shivered.

Just as I tried to take a step, the door creaked open.

I froze, breath caught in my throat.

A young woman slipped inside.

She moved with a grace that startled me, her figure slender, her steps light, almost gliding across the floor as if she weighed nothing.

The movement reminded me less of a wolf’s confident stride and more of something else.

Her hair, cropped short, was the color of raven feathers, framing a delicate face too youthful for the strangeness she carried.

Her clothes were entirely black, stitched with faint, featherlike patterns that caught in the dim glow.

She couldn’t have been older than me. Maybe younger.

She smiled the moment her eyes met mine. She crossed the room and perched on the edge of the bed right in front of me, her face close.

I flinched back.

Her scent drifted around me. Familiar, though I couldn’t place why.

"I’m glad you’re finally awake, Vivien!" she said brightly, her voice full of relief. "You know, you have slept for three nights and a day!"

I froze.

How did she know my name?

Leika stirred, her voice low in my head. ’She smells like a bird.’

A... bird?

My eyes flicked to hers. At first glance, they seemed dark brown. But up close, I realized they had different color.

Burgundy. Deep, almost black, yet glimmering faintly with crimson undertones. Strange.

My voice wavered. "Who are you? Why am I here?"

She leaned forward, her smile unfading. "Because my master saved you."

Her master.

I searched her expression, trying to read her. She didn’t look cruel, but that meant nothing. My heart pounded harder as I studied her clothes, the feather patterns, her strange scent.

An image slipped into my mind.

The crow.

The crow that often came to me in Finn’s manor.

My lips parted.

No, it was impossible.

The Avian shifters were gone. Wiped from the earth centuries ago. That was what every history book said. A dead bloodline.

"You don’t smell like a wolf shifter," I whispered.

She tilted her head, amused. "And what do I smell like?"

I hesitated. I didn’t answer.

Her smile widened, eyes glinting with something unreadable. Then she clasped her hands together lightly.

"Let me introduce myself properly. I’m Raye. Ah, it’s so nice to finally talk to you face-to-face!"

Leika growled softly in my head. ’She’s not a wolf shifter. She reeks of feathers. I told you.’

My pulse quickened. A crow. An avian. Could it really be true?

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "Who is your master?"

"You’ll meet him soon," Raye said, almost sing-song. "But not just yet. First, I’ll help you get ready for your meeting."