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"She did not return. We found her three weeks ago. We don't know what is going on, but the pack is worried. All three were placed the same way. Arranged in a nest of branches and leaves. The Moon Warden has been informed. He plans to come and help. But if you could..."

The wind stirred the trees.

"The elders believe..." Gramm hesitated. "There is dark magic involved."

"What kind of magic?" Blaidd demanded.

"Something old," Gramm said, as if afraid to put it into words. "There were markings burned into their foreheads, symbols none of us recognise."

Fae's fingers tightened painfully around Blaidd's arm.

"And Eira?" she whispered.

Gramm's throat worked. "There is no trace of her."

Fae swayed slightly.

Blaidd caught her.

For a moment, he pressed his forehead to hers as he spoke in her mind.

"As long as we don't find her, she is alive. We have to believe that."

"The boat has docked in the outer harbour," Gramm continued. "It will remain for two days before it returns north."

Two days.

A sliver of time. A narrow gate.

"We can take it back," Gramm continued. "From there, we find the nearest port with an airfield and take a short flight to reach the packlands faster."

The modern world pressed against the old.

Blaidd nodded once. "We leave tomorrow."

Gramm inclined his head. "The men are waiting at the dock."

The enforcer's gaze shifted beyond Blaidd—toward Kenji, who had remained respectfully silent at the edge of the clearing, his hands folded into his sleeves.

"You have travelled far," Kenji said gently, stepping forward. "You will need rest before you sail."

Gramm hesitated.

Kenji bowed slightly. "The guesthouse is prepared. Hot water. Food. A place to sleep."

Gramm looked to Blaidd, who gave a curt nod. "Rest. We move tomorrow at dusk."

Gramm bowed once more, fist to heart. "As you command, former Alpha."

***

The clearing thinned as Kenji led Gramm away. Only when they were alone did Blaidd turn fully toward Fae. She looked exhausted.

Her shoulders had folded inward, making her look smaller. Her lips looked pale and chapped. Even her wolf, usually restless beneath her skin, was silent, shocked into stillness by the loss of someone she had once hoped to win over. Now that was never going to happen. Bowen was gone.

Blaidd reached for her hand. Her fingers were ice. She swayed once, barely perceptible, and that was enough.

"How could this happen?" she asked no one in particular.