The Price of Freedom 2

Copper coins clinked against the desk. Liana counted them again. Number stayed the same each time. Fifteen silvers short on the monthly payment. Again. Her fingers brushed over the latest notice from Silver City. Its red seal was bright as fresh blood against yellowed parchment. No more blessed arrows without payment. Her throat tightened. Last month it had been healing potions. Next it would be the guild charter itself. Crap.

The leaky roof kept its own ledger in the corner. She'd stopped emptying the pot days ago. The water level crept higher, like the mounting debts. Down the hall, the armory door wheezed on its broken hinge. The sound carried further now that half the rooms stood empty. Their occupants fled further north to more prosperous guilds.

She pressed her fingers against her temples. The throb of another headache was building. Through the cracked window, she could see more carts being loaded in the street. The Tanner family this time. Their distinctive red-painted wheels against grey-brown road. Third family this week. They'd lasted longer than most. The latest beast sightings had finally broken their resolve.

The door creaked. "Guild Master?" A messenger boy stood there, mud from the street still fresh on his boots. His face was pale beneath its dirt. "Hunting party's back. They've got..." He swallowed. "Casualties."

Liana stood. Her chair's stuffing spilled from a new tear. "How many?"

"Two dead. But they got the pack. Big one, they're saying."

She nodded. Kept her face carefully blank. Two more beds empty. Two more letters to write to families who'd trusted her father's guild with their children's lives. But father wasn't here anymore. Just her. "I'll be down shortly."

Her chambers felt colder than usual as she changed. The mirror showed the truth her father had taught her to hide - dark circles like bruises beneath her eyes, worry lines deepening around her mouth. But a clean dress and her father's practiced smile could mask anything. A guild master's strength was in the performance. Especially when the stage was crumbling.

The main hall's floorboards creaked under her feet as she descended. New voices echoed off the stone walls. The hunters' victory shouts mixed with something else. Her steps quickened. Through the open doors, she caught glimpses of the returning party. Blood on their armor. Pelts dragged behind them. And between them...

They dragged in a naked man. Just into his adulthood like her. His skin was pale against the evening shadows. His eyes met hers.

The world froze.

"Ariana..." The word tore from his throat, raw and desperate. Before anyone could move, he launched himself toward her. Her back hit the wall. His hands gripped her shoulders. His skin burned like fever against hers.

---

The humans were taking Bran into town. Bran's new human senses still caught every detail of decay. Rotting support beams. Iron-tang of old blood soaked into floorboards. The sour stink of fear mixed with victory-wine on the hunters' breath. His mind catalogued it all with predator's precision. Even through dulled human nerves. The guild's weakness was a gift. Fewer witnesses. More shadows. More escape routes.

The scarred hunter who'd promised safety was big for a human. But he favored his left leg. Old injury. Badly healed. The balding one who'd boasted of burning the younglings clutched a wine skin. Already stumbling. The redheaded girl who'd complained about pelt duty walked slowly. Weighed down by the pelts. Her hair caught the torchlight like fresh blood. Like Ariana's fur in their last moments. Like Meera's pelt. He'd start with her. Quick. Silent. Then the others before they could—

Human voices crashed into his ears. Meanings blooming unwanted in his mind: "Guild Master's daughter..." "...smiled at me..." "...don't stand a chance..."

The sounds felt wrong. Like trying to howl with a human throat. But understanding came anyway. Curse or blessing, the Hunter in Black's magic had changed him.

Focus. The scarred one's throat would be first. His new fingers lacked claws. But human hands could still crush a windpipe. If he got the angle right. The balding one would be too drunk to—

'She' appeared in the doorway, and his heart stopped.

White-gold hair like winter fur. Eyes bright with kindness. The same gentle curve of jaw. The same way of holding herself. Ariana. But how? His hands were still wet with her blood. The word ripped from his throat before he could stop it: "Ariana!"

He rushed forward. Human legs felt clumsier than the half form. How was she here? More human magic? Could they run fast enough with these weak muscles? But his embrace met human shoulders. No fur. No familiar scent. The truth hit like a physical blow. This wasn't his bond-sister. Ariana was dead. Her blood soaked into sacred stone while he watched. This girl, this copy, stared at him with growing concern.

"Someone's eager," the balding hunter slurred, nudging his companions. "Already making moves on the Guild Master."

"I'm Liana," the Ariana-copy said softly. She steadying him. "You're safe now. The beasts can't hurt you anymore."

He'd laugh at the irony, if he remembered how. Instead, he forced human sounds past his lips. Each one feeling wrong: "Sorry. You... reminded me of someone. From before."

Her face softened with sympathy. His chest ached. "Come inside," she said. "You need rest. Are you new to town?"

---

In the scorched forest, Meera ran. Blood leaked from her ears, hot and sticky against her fur. The Beast King's voice hammered against her skull.

WHERE IS YOUR PACK, ALPHA?

Muscles seized. She slammed into a charred tree trunk. Bark crumbled under her weight. She scratched at her ears, trying to dig out his voice. Red fur came away in her claws. Empty spaces in her mind where pack bonds should be throbbed like open wounds.

YOU CANNOT HIDE FROM ME, LITTLE ALPHA.

Her legs buckled. Bile burned her throat. His presence crushed down on her mind. She tasted copper. Blood from where she'd bitten into her tongue. The forest tilted and spun. Without the pack's strength flowing through the bonds, she felt hollow, breakable.

FIND THEM OR FACE JUDGMENT.

A howl cut through ash-choked air. Bran, stupid Bran. She knew she should've killed him the minute he challenged her. Your cruel he said. You have no empathy he said. What good had his empathy done now. Everyone was dead. Atleast she tried to make them stronger. Stupid Bran. She hoped he lived. She would kill him herself. She...she didn't want to be alone. Weak.

Her ears swiveled toward a howl. It came from the human town. Maybe there was still hope.

SOMEONE MUST ANSWER FOR THIS, LITTLE ALPHA.

Bone creaked. Her legs folded. She hit the ground hard. Enough to drive the breath from her lungs. The forest darkened at the edges. Something vast and ancient pressed down on her mind. Shadow-shapes writhed at the corners of her vision, solid as flesh. Pressure built against her throat. It was the phantom weight of the Beast King's claw. He didn't even need to be there in person to kill her.

She tried to crawl south toward the wild lands. Her claws scraped furrows in the ground. Three steps. That's all she managed before darkness swallowed her vision.

A bargain formed in her mind, desperate as a cornered animal:

THE REBELS SURVIVED. I CAN BRING THEM TO YOU. LET YOU PUNISH THEM AS YOU SEE FIT, OH MONARCH OF PREY.

The pressure on her throat eased, just enough to let her gasp in a breath of ash-filled air. Just enough to let her mind start working again. Just enough to plan.

---

The room they gave him stank of dust and abandonment. Moonlight crept in through the broken window. Bran tested his new body's limits. His legs, once powerful enough to clear fallen trees, barely got him halfway to the ceiling beam. Even with a running start, his fingers only scraped uselessly at the wall where claws should have been. Each movement felt wrong—balance off, muscles responding too slowly. It felt like moving through deep water.

He tried to shift forms. To reach for the wolf that had always lived under his skin. Nothing. Not even a ripple of fur. The silence without the pack bond was deafening. Through the thin walls, he could hear hunters celebrate. Their voices carried clearly now that he was getting used to their muddy human tongue:

"Did you see that big black one go down?"

"Right through the leg! Would've had the pelt if it hadn't crawled off to die somewhere."

Mace. His fingers curled into fists. Human nails were too dull to draw blood from his palms. He'd tear their throats out with these weak human teeth if he had to. Soon. When they were deepest in their cups, when the moon was highest...

A knock interrupted his planning. Liana entered with a bundle of clothes. Her scent hit him first—parchment, ink, worry. Still no trace of Ariana's winter-pine smell.

"I thought these might fit," she said, then hesitated. "The hunters mentioned... they said they found you near where the pack was."

He forced his face to show fear instead of rage. "Yes. They... they killed my family. The beasts."

"I'm so sorry." She stepped closer. For a moment he thought she would touch him. For a moment he welcomed it. Her hand stopped short. "We lost people too. The beasts have been getting bolder. More organized. The guild barely holds them back now."

She walked to the window. His eyes followed.

Through the window, he caught movement in the courtyard. Hunters dragging something large. His nose barely caught the scent before his eyes confirmed it—blood, fur, and underneath it all, packmate. They had Mace.

"One survived," Liana said, following his gaze. "We've never caught one alive before. The hunters want to kill it, but..." She turned back to him, eyes bright with desperate hope. "You're a tamer, aren't you? Otherwise you wouldn't be in the beastlands alone, unarmed... I know your kind are secretive but we haven't had a tamer in years. The guild can't afford one from the larger cities, but if you stayed..."

Bran's mind raced. A tamer. Someone who could control beasts. Someone with access to captured packmates. Someone necessary.

"I'll pay whatever I can," she continued quickly, her delicate hands in his. "Room, board, priority on hunts. I know it's not much, but—"

"Yes," he cut her off. The human word felt strange on his tongue, but right. "I'll help."

Her smile lit up her face just like Ariana's used to, missing only the wagging tail.

"Really? Oh, thank the gods. I should warn you though, this place isn't what it used to be. Most people have left. They say the town's dying, but with a tamer maybe we could—"

"Take me to him," Bran interrupted. "The beast. I need to... assess him."

---

The holding cells reeked of death and silver. Even his dulled human nose could detect it. His body jerked from the memory of the sting. Their footsteps echoed off stone walls. Each step sent water trickling between cracks. Liana led with a torch. Its light caught on the metal bars of empty cells. In the furthest one, a massive black wolf lay bound, whining.

Mace. His black fur was matted with blood and burns. The silver arrow was still protruding from his thigh. His breathing echoed off the damp walls, shallow. Chains clinked as he shifted. Each movement seemed carefully controlled against the pain.

Mace's head snapped up at their approach. Nostrils flared. Recognition blazed in his golden eyes. A low growl started in his throat, but it wasn't a threat—it was their old greeting. It was the sound they'd used since they were pups together.

"Stay back," Liana warned, grip tightening on her sword hilt. Bran was already moving forward. He lowered his head and whined as best as could with a human throat.

Mace's growl shifted to a soft whine. His tail thumped once against the floor. His head lowered in submission. Even injured, he was enormous. He stood at least two meters, with paws wide as a human waist. His ears swiveled forward, catching every sound. His nose worked constantly, scenting the air in the way Bran no longer could.

"Incredible!" Liana breathed. "You really are a tamer! Oh, I... I can't begin to tell you how perfect this is. Ah, hold on, I'll get the contracts—"

She hurried away. Distant footsteps echoed on stone. Bran waited until they faded before pressing close to the bars. Hand met confused paw. The air rippled suddenly. Glowing symbols, ancient and strange, floated around his face. And then, miraculously, he could speak in the beast tongue: "Bond-Brother."

The word felt strange on his human tongue, but Mace's ears pricked forward instantly.

"Brother?" Mace's response was barely a breath. "How? What did they do to you?"

"I don't know." Tears welled up, hot and unfamiliar in human eyes. "Is that girl Ariana too? She doesn't have her scent."

Mace whined low, the sound full of shared grief. But Bran had to tell him.

"Ariana's gone, brother. We need to bury her. Let her run with the ancestors."

"I'll get you out," Bran promised. "We'll bury her together."

"How? These chains..." Mace looked down at his shackles, silver gleaming dully in the torchlight.

"The girl thinks I'm a tamer. Someone who controls beasts." His chest tightened at the irony. "I can use that."

When Liana returned, contract in hand, Bran chose his words carefully. The human sounds still felt wrong in his mouth. "You need a tamer badly?"

"Yes..." desperation in her voice. " I'm willing to offer—"

"I need to take him to the forest," Bran interrupted. "To... establish dominance. Tamer's ritual. I'll agree to your offer after."

Liana was silent. Searching something in his eyes. Did she see the lie? Ariana always could. The next moment, she placed the keys in his hand. "Come back safe. I'm counting on you."

---

Dawn light filtered through scorched branches. The light cast broken shadows across the forest floor. The air still tasted of ash and defeat. Bran moved slowly, matching Mace's limping pace. The arrow wound in his packmate's thigh leaked black blood. Each step left a dark trail on fallen leaves. But even injured, Mace moved with the fluid grace Bran had lost. The natural flow of muscle and bone he could no longer find in his human form.

They found Ariana where he'd left her. The sight hit harder through human eyes. She looked smaller somehow, more fragile. Her white fur was stained red-brown. It was no longer catching light like fresh snow. Together, they dug her grave with whatever they could find. His human hands bled on the rocks. They piled them over her resting place.

The scene triggered a memory, sharp as a silver blade:

Three young wolves, hardly more than pups, huddled under moonlight. Ariana's white-tipped tail curled around them both as she spoke:

"Promise me," she whispered. "Promise we'll be free one day. All of us."

"I promise, bond-sister," Bran said, as Ariana pulled them closer. "By blood and bone," and Mace completed, "By fang and claw."

"What now?" Mace's voice brought him back. "You must be our alpha. There is no one else left."

"No." The word felt like stones in his throat. "I'm not even a wolf anymore. I can't—"

"We can find the Beast King. The bond might—"

"The bond is broken," Bran cut him off. "I can't hear him anymore. Besides, if we go to him...he might kill us for desertion"

Bran was looking North, where they'd come from. Toward the human town.

"Surely you don't mean to go back Bran?"

Silence.

"We can't trust the humans. They kill our kind."

"It's different now Mace. They think I am a tamer. Someone valuable. This could be our only chance at a better life. Like we always dreamed."

Mace stared at him.

A twig snapped. They turned as a figure emerged from the scorched underbrush. Meera. Her red fur was falling out in patches, blood crusting around her eyes and ears. She must have been watching them, waiting. Her paws left bloody prints on the ash-covered ground.

Mace moved between them instantly, but his growl was weak. Even injured, they might have been able to take her. She looked half-dead already. But then she shifted to half-form, mostly human, with red ears, claws and a red tail. She exposed her throat in submission.

"Please," she gasped, dropping to her knees. "The Beast King comes. His voice fills my mind. The pack is gone and I... I can't..." She crawled forward. "Take me in. Make me yours. I submit to your will as alpha. Just don't leave me alone."

Mace snarled. "After what you did to us? To Ariana?"

But Bran was already moving forward. He remembered the emptiness where the pack bonds had been. The horrible silence. Would he condemn anyone to that, even Meera? Despite it all, she was still a bond-sister.

"Swear it," he said. "Swear your loyalty by the old words."

"Bran, what are you doing?" Mace's voice was rough with pain. "We can't trust this she-devil. She'll slit our throats the moment we sleep."

Blood dripped from Meera's eyes onto the ash-covered ground as she began the oath. "By blood and bone," she felt something connect her to Bran, "by fang and claw, I submit to your will as alpha." The ancient words carried weight, settling over them like chains. For a moment, Bran thought he felt something stir in the empty space where pack bonds used to be. An illusion maybe.

"Then rise," he said. He looked back at Mace."I have a plan."

Mace growled.

"Fine, but if she so much as looks at you wrong, I'll have her throat," he said, then followed up with the ancient words." By blood and bone, by fang and claw, I submit."

Bran looked toward the rising sun then North.

"We're going back to the human town."

The sun climbed higher, casting their shadows long across Ariana's grave. Three shadows—two wolves and their human alpha—stretched and merged in the morning light. Behind them, the scorched forest creaked and shifted. In the back of Meera's mind, the Beast King's presence receded like a tide, leaving behind the whispered echo of their bargain.

Deep in the forest, reality rippled. Shadows moved with purpose, solid as flesh. The Beast King's attention turned northward, patient as mountains. The hunt was only beginning.