Prologue XI: Ash Between the Footsteps

There was noise—too much of it—crashing and stomping and screaming downstairs, and it was all coming here. They were converging.

I could feel it in the walls, in the floor. The rumble beneath my feet wasn't just noise anymore—it was an answer. A signal. A warning carved in trembling wood and bone.

The cold I'd felt earlier ebbed just slightly, like it had backed away only to make space for something worse.

My chest began to unknot itself slowly, painfully, and when I exhaled, it came out in a single, searing gust that scraped against my throat.

I could taste it—the copper sting of blood, the sharp bitterness of magic, and the thick, clinging burn of smoke. It filled my nose, coated my tongue, and made it feel like even the air didn't want to be breathed.

The barrier. It began flickering again—there, gone, there again. Cracking. Dying. And through that fading light, Ryke stood smirking like this was all just a stage and we were dancing right on cue. "Why don't you entertain your guests, Huntress?" he mocked, his voice slithering through the air like oil set aflame.

Mother didn't answer him. Her fury didn't need words. "Reynard! Take the girls and get out of here now!" she snapped, stepping behind us. Her presence cut through the chaos like a sword, but even then, the boots stomping closer made it harder to think, harder to breathe. My vision swam, but I could see them—shadowy figures creeping at the edge of the entrance, weapons glinting like fangs. The barrier was flickering faster. Ryke hadn't moved. He was just standing there, waiting for the final blink.

Uncle Ren's voice cracked as he stormed after her. "I am not leaving you here, Amara!" he shouted, raw desperation bleeding through every word. "We have a better chance together than separately!"

I forced myself upright. My legs felt like wet sand, but I stood. Barely. "Mother, listen to him," I croaked. My voice wasn't even mined anymore. "Let's all go together. Please, Mother…"

She didn't look at me. Didn't hear me. She didn't want to.

"Mommy, please don't do this," Naial said. Her voice had emotion—faint, distant—but it was there, trembling beneath the blankness.

Still nothing.

Mother was locked in a battle not just with the invaders, but with us. With herself. "We don't have enough time, and I am in no mood for arguments," she growled. Her words snapped like teeth. Red sigils bloomed at her palms, swirling faster, brighter, and angrier.

She raised one hand toward the only entryway to this side of the storeroom. Magic erupted from her fingertips, and in an instant, the entire space between two tall pieces of furniture exploded into light. It blasted outward, rippling like fire and water had fused, and then it solidified—a wall. A glowing, vibrating wall of pulsing red. And just as it rose, a horde of cloaked figures slammed against it with weapons, claws, fury. They kept coming. Banging. Crashing. Screaming metal against magic. Daggers. Axes. Fangs. It was a storm of violence, and she was the only thing holding it back.

Mother winced, tightening her stance, trying to keep it stable. The barrier was straining. So was she.

"But Amara—"

"DON'T ARGUE WITH ME, REYNARD!!!" she bellowed, and I swear to every star in the sky, the entire floor shook. It wasn't just a sound—it was a quake.

Uncle Ren froze. Naial clung to me tighter, and I stood there, stunned. My eyes widened, not from fear—but from something deeper. Pure, shattered shock.

Mother had always been calm. She could get annoyed. Irritated. Even pissed. But I had never, in my entire life, heard her scream like that—not in rage. Not like this.

The pounding on the wall grew louder, more frantic. Cracks spider webbed across its surface. I saw the sweat dripping down her temples, her arms trembling just barely. Her magic—her will—was reaching its limit.

Then she spoke again.

"Please."

Her voice cracked. It broke. It wasn't a shout. It was a whisper. Barely audible. Her strength bleeding into desperation. "Please," she begged Uncle Ren.

"Mother…" I whispered, but I don't think she heard. I wasn't sure I wanted her to.

Uncle Ren's face fell. Something in him shattered too. He didn't argue again. Just stepped forward and whispered something too low to catch.

And then suddenly—I was flying.

His arms scooped us both up. My feet left the floor. Wind hit my face. Naial squeaked in surprise and buried herself into my side as we soared past Ryke's barrier. The air slapped us. Time snapped. My heart dropped.

"MOTHER!!!" I screamed, twisting in his grip for one last look.

She was smiling.

A small, keen smile—like she was proud, but already saying goodbye. Then she turned her back to me.

Uncle Ren threw himself through the window, crashing through it with such force that the entire frame exploded into shards. We were airborne again for a second, then landed rough on the ground. That's when the change started.

I felt it through my dress—his body swelling, bones shifting muscles tearing and remaking themselves. I heard the wet crunch of bone realigning, the snarl that built in his throat as fur burst from his skin like needles. A roar tore through the night. He wasn't a man anymore.

He was a beast.

A bear.

He switched us onto one side of his body, shielding us with raw muscle and fur, and then he ran. No—he thundered. The world blurred. Trees shot past. The sky was smeared with smoke and flame. Screams cut through the air like blades. Everything burned. I could see it now—see everything.

Smoke, everywhere. Black and angry.

Screaming. Not just from adults—but from children.

The scent hit me—blood. Fire. Ash. Magic.

And then we burst through the tree line.

And I wanted to scream.

Blood painted the ground. Bodies. Fires. Shadows moved like nightmares. The black-cloaked figures… there were too many of them. Dozens. Hundreds. Cutting down the villagers like wheat. They didn't hesitate. They didn't stop.

They were slaughtering everyone.

The cold I'd felt earlier—it was still inside me. Lingering like a ghost. But it was nothing compared to what I was seeing now.

Uncle Ren didn't stop. He tore through the chaos like a divine beast. I clung to his paw, held on like it was the last real thing in this nightmare.

A sharp whistling cut through the air.

An arrow slammed into a burning cart just ahead.

Uncle Ren skidded to a stop and spun around, snarling.

Raiders—at least five—were charging behind us. One shouted, "That's them! Don't let them get away!"

More arrows flew. Dozens. Ren roared and slashed them out of the air with a single swipe.

Then he bolted.

Faster. Harder. The galloping of his paws like thunder.

Arrows rained all around. They struck walls. Ground. Trees. But not us. Never us.

We reached the town square—if it could still be called that. It was a battlefield now. Fire roared from every rooftop. The air shimmered with heat and pain. Ren dove beneath a collapsed canopy, then turned and sliced through a massive stone pillar. It tilted, cracked—and fell like a giant's club.

It crushed the raiders beneath it. Some screamed. Some didn't.

Ren laughed—or roared—it sounded like both.

He kept running. I clutched him tighter, but my thoughts were still trapped behind us.

Mother.

Why didn't she come?

Why?

Why did she stay?

I couldn't wrap my head around it. No matter how hard I tried, it wouldn't make sense.

The night wind slammed into me, flinging my hair back. I buried my face in Ren's fur. Just a little more. Just a little further and we'd reach the outskirts. We'd be—

A scream tore from Ren's mouth. A deep, pained roar.

We tumbled.

We crashed.

The ground slammed into me. My body rolled. Everything flipped. My head spun. My ribs screamed. It hurt. By the gods, it hurt.

Firelight blurred my vision. My ears rang.

But I could feel them.

They were coming.

I staggered up. Naial was near Uncle Ren, sobbing. I crawled to her, heart racing. She wailed when I touched her, but I sat her up, checked her limbs. Bruised. Her shoulder—bad. But no broken bones.

I ruffled her hair. "Don't worry, Nai. It's just a scratch. We'll get out of this, I promise," I said, forcing the words through clenched teeth, forcing the calm.

She sniffled, nodded.

She stopped crying.

A low growl startled us.

We turned—Uncle Ren was lying beside us, his great form twitching with pain. He groaned as he tried to stand, muscles straining beneath fur, but collapsed almost immediately. Dust kicked up around him in soft clouds.

"Uncle Ren, what's wrong? You have to get up, they're coming!" I cried voice desperate and cracking.

He let out a snarl—angry, wounded—then tried to push himself upright again, but his limbs gave out.

That's when I saw it.

A massive, near-ballistic arrow had pierced deep into his shoulder.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat, eyes widening in horror. It looked like something meant for a monster, not a man. Without thinking, I scrambled up onto Uncle Ren's body and grabbed the arrow. It was enormous—longer than my whole arm span—but I wrapped my hands around it and pulled.

He roared in pain. His body bucked under me, but I didn't stop. The arrow was wedged too deep. It resisted me.

"Come on… come on…" I hissed, bracing with my knees.

Naial climbed up beside me, grabbing onto it too. Together we pulled, hands slick with blood, arms shaking.

He let out another sharp roar, louder this time. The arrow suddenly gave way, yanked free with one final heave.

We both tumbled off his side, landing hard on the ground as the bloody arrow clattered beside us.

Uncle Ren growled again, low and heavy, then slowly—gritting his teeth—forced himself up to his feet.

Weak. Shaky. But standing.

His form began to shift—fur receding, bones cracking inward, claws shrinking, and eyes dimming back to human. He exhaled hard, chest heaving.

Blood soaked his tunic from shoulder to waist, and sweat dripped from every inch of him. He looked like he'd fought death—and maybe he had.

"You girls… you have to go," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "Take the eastern path. Go."

Before we could argue, he shoved us behind him. I stumbled, Naial beside me.

Another arrow sliced through the air toward us. Uncle Ren lifted his arm and batted it aside with his hand.

Both arms began to twist again, fur bristling, claws stretching as he resumed his transformation—just enough to keep deflecting more projectiles.

I stood frozen for a breath, wide-eyed. He wouldn't listen. I knew it. I could scream, cry, beg, but he had already made up his mind.

So I grabbed Naial's hand and ran.