Chapter 5

NYXARA

The village starts where the road gives up.
There’s no sign, no gate—nothing that says you’ve arrived. The dirt just smooths out, and the trees lean closer to the path.
I slow down without thinking about it. I’m not tired. It just doesn’t feel right to walk in fast.
I pull my hood up and let my shoulders slump slightly. I’ve done this enough times to know how it looks—smaller, quieter, harmless. Just another traveler passing through the village.
People move aside when I walk by. Not quickly. Just a small shift, like it’s easier that way. No one really looks at me. No one asks where I’m headed—just a few quiet nods.
Mostly nothing. And nobody looks past the last house at the edge of the village. The air feels heavier here, quieter than it should be. My boots make less sound than they should.
I notice. But I keep walking.

There’s a small stall near the center of the road—if you can even call it that. Just a board balanced on crates with bruised apples and a bundle of roots tied together with twine.
A woman stands behind it, folding the same piece of cloth again and again. She looks up when I stop, then back down again.
“Bread?” I ask.
My voice sounds louder than it should. She reaches for a loaf, then pauses. Just for a second. But I see it. Her eyes drop to my hands. Then back to the bread.
I set a coin on the board. She grabs it quickly. Like she doesn’t want to touch it longer than she has to.
“Passing through?” she asks.
I nod. That’s the answer she wants.
Her mouth tightens. “You should turn back before dark.”
“I’m looking for somewhere to sleep.”
She exhales slowly through her nose. “Not here.”
“Why not?”
The question hangs between us. She lowers her voice, even though no one is close enough to hear.
“This isn’t an empty road anymore,” she says quietly. “Not anymore.”
I don’t ask who it belongs to. I already know. But she says it anyway.
“The Alpha.”
Her hands go still. She watches my face, waiting for recognition. I give her nothing.
“Does he bother travelers?” I ask.
Now she really looks at me. “Only the ones who don’t listen.”
I nod, thank her, and take the bread. When I turn away, I feel it.
Someone is watching me. A child stands in a doorway, half-hidden behind a wooden post. She’s thin, her dark hair pulled tightly back from her face.
She doesn’t look afraid. She looks calm.
“You shouldn’t be here on Moon’s Eve,” she says.
The woman moves quickly then, grabbing the girl by the arm.
“Inside.”
The girl doesn’t resist. But she looks at me one more time.
“If you hear them,” she says softly, “don’t move.”

I leave the village the long way, circling wide through the trees instead of taking the road. If someone decides to follow me, I don’t want them knowing where I sleep.
The forest closes around me without a sound. I chose a rise overlooking the eastern edge of the village. From here the land dips into a shallow clearing before reaching the houses.
If anything moves out there, I’ll see it.
I crouch behind a fallen trunk and slow my breathing. The pressure returns.
Right between my shoulders. Like a hand resting there.
Watching.
Waiting.
I stay still longer than I need to. The forest doesn’t move. No birds lift. No insects stir. Nothing. Then someone steps into the clearing.
Just… there. A dark cloak shapes the body beneath it.
The figure stops near the center and goes completely still. Another appears. Then another.
They emerge from different points between the trees, spaced apart like pieces placed carefully on a board.
I start counting before I realize I’m doing it.
Five.
Seven.
More.
All cloaked. All silent.
They form a loose circle, leaving the center empty.
Waiting.
One of them steps forward. No grand movement. No raised voice.
Nothing that announces authority. But the others react anyway.
A few shift their weight. Two lower their heads slightly. Not because they must. Because they choose to.
This isn’t a patrol. It isn’t a hunt.
It’s a gathering.

The sharp scent returns. Metallic. Like the air before a storm. Stronger now.
I can taste it. “I know you’re there.”
The voice carries easily across the clearing. My chest tightens. I don’t move. The silence stretches. Then the voice comes again. Softer.
“You’ve been watching for a while.”
He isn’t guessing. He knows.
Across the clearing, one of the cloaked figures slowly turns in my direction. That shouldn’t be possible.
I’m downwind. Hidden.
And I haven’t moved. But the hood keeps turning, slowly. Until it’s obvious.
They’re looking straight at me. Every instinct tells me to drop my gaze. Disappear. Become nothing. But it’s too late for that.
The hood shifts back slightly. Just enough for me to see his eyes.
Gold. Bright even in the dark. Focused. Certain.
They aren’t searching. They’ve already found me. The gold deepens as his gaze sharpens.
Then something flickers across his expression.
For a single moment— surprise.
“Interesting,” he says quietly.
The word isn’t meant for the others. It’s meant for me.
My breath catches before I can stop it. The sound feels deafening in my own ears. The figure goes still again, his posture settling back into calm control.
As if nothing happened. As if he didn’t just find me hiding in a forest I had no business surviving. The circle doesn’t break. No one speaks. But the air feels different now.
Tighter.
Waiting.
This isn’t me watching anymore. I wasn’t hidden—I was allowed.
And now the question isn’t whether he saw me.
It’s what he’s going to do about it.