The storm rolled in without warning.
Low thunder crackled above SilverCrest’s outpost, casting flickering light across the canvas tents. Aria stood outside hers, staring at the horizon. The wind carried the scent of pine and something colder—something coiled with instinct.
She wasn’t planning to spy. Truly. But when she stepped out to clear her thoughts, she heard voices drifting from Kael’s tent. One of them was his. The other—
“Elias?” she mouthed, brows tightening.
It wasn’t the name that chilled her—it was the tone. Low. Urgent. Secretive.
She pressed closer, slipping between the shadows of supply crates. The night cloaked her in silence. Her heart hammered.
“…she doesn’t suspect anything,” Kael was saying.
A pause.
“She’s not stupid,” Elias replied. “But she’s emotional. That buys us time.”
Aria’s blood turned to ice.
“She gave up a core memory to open the archive,” Kael continued. “She’ll never know what it cost her. But it’s working. She’s letting her guard down.”
“I told you she would,” Elias said. “You’re the only one she ever trusted.”
Kael didn’t respond immediately. Then—“That’s what makes this harder.”
“You’re doing what needs to be done,” Elias snapped. “You can’t protect her and tear the council down. You have to choose.”
Kael’s voice dropped, pained. “I already did.”
Aria’s hands clenched into fists.
She wanted to scream. To rip through the tent flaps and demand answers. But instinct told her to wait. To listen.
“She’s more dangerous than you realize,” Elias said. “If she finds out some of those orders came from your side—”
“She won’t,” Kael cut in. “I’ve already buried the names. She won’t find them in the archive.”
“She trusts the witch,” Elias countered.
Kael scoffed. “The witch plays both sides. She’ll stay silent—so long as she gets what she wants.”
A silence fell.
Then Kael’s voice, softer now. “I thought saving her meant giving her space. But maybe it means controlling what she learns.”
Elias let out a dry chuckle. “Spoken like a true Alpha.”
Aria stepped back, nearly stumbling. Her heart thundered.
They were playing her. Again.
She didn’t sleep that night.
Not even when Elara stirred and curled into her side. Not when Zara offered her calming tea. Not even when the wind died and the night fell still.
Her mind replayed every word. Every silence between them.
He knew. He knew what she’d given up. He knew it had cost her a part of herself. And he’d used it to shield his secrets.
What else has he hidden? she wondered. What else did he erase from that archive?
Dawn arrived gray and trembling.
By mid-morning, she was gone.
Aria didn’t tell anyone where she was headed. She just left a note with Zara: “Watch Elara. Don’t trust Kael.”
She ran until the trees thickened and the moss softened her steps. The clearing where the witch lived hadn’t moved—but the path to it felt longer this time, darker.
The door opened before she reached it.
“You heard,” the witch said without preamble.
Aria entered, eyes blazing. “You let him alter the archive.”
The witch didn’t flinch. “He offered a trade.”
“What trade?”
“A name. One I needed.”
“And in return, you let him bury the truth?”
“I let him delay the truth,” the witch corrected. “There’s a difference.”
Aria’s hands shook. “He used me. Again.”
“You allowed yourself to believe in him,” the witch said calmly. “That’s different than being fooled.”
Aria glared. “You’re enjoying this.”
“I’m observing it.”
The witch rose, moved to the wall, and plucked a glowing thread from the air. It pulsed like a heartbeat. She handed it to Aria.
“This is one of the names he erased.”
Aria stared at the thread. “How many?”
“Six.”
“Can I get them back?”
“You can,” the witch said. “But there is a price.”
“Of course there is,” Aria whispered. “What now? Another memory?”
“No,” the witch said. “This time, a promise.”
Aria looked up.
“You must swear not to confront Kael until the archive is complete. Let the full truth rise before you tear him down.”
Aria hesitated.
“Knowledge before war,” the witch said. “Or you burn too soon, and the wrong people escape the fire.”
After a long silence, Aria whispered, “Fine.”
The witch smiled. “Then take the thread.”
Aria did.
And with it, the first name returned: Councilor Dagan of StoneRidge.
Kael’s ally.
A traitor.
Back at camp, Kael noticed her absence immediately. When she returned near dusk, he met her halfway.
“Where did you—”
“I needed air,” Aria said coolly.
He studied her face. “Are you alright?”
“I am now.”
She walked past him, leaving no scent of anger. Just ice.
That night, she laid Elara down, then sat at the edge of the firepit. She opened the disc, touched the glyphs, and whispered the first returned name.
More threads would come.
More truth.
And when it was whole, she would decide what to burn—and who to spare.
