The hunter's cabin creaked as the wind howled outside, carrying with it the lingering chill of that strange woman's presence. Wren sat curled in a threadbare blanket near the hearth, her fingertips trembling slightly as she held them out toward the fire. Embers danced like fireflies, casting flickers of light across her face.
She didn't speak.
Neither did Cassian or Veylan.
They stood on opposite ends of the room—two storms circling the same center—and she was the lightning rod caught between.
Wren's thoughts churned as fiercely as the wind outside. The woman from the Bone Circle—her voice like rusted metal and ash—had said something that clawed its way back into Wren's mind every time she blinked:
"The girl of flame and blood. You'll burn the world before you save it."
Was that a prophecy? A warning? A curse?
The fire crackled louder, and Wren realized her magic was bleeding out of her again. It had been happening more lately—when she was scared, when she was overwhelmed, when both men were too close.
Cassian stepped forward first. His voice was low, hesitant. "That thing… it knew you."
"She wasn't human," Wren whispered. "Not fully."
"She was Bone Circle," Veylan said from the shadows. "A mouthpiece for something older. Something darker."
Wren turned to look at him, her eyes searching. "You recognized her. Didn't you?"
Veylan's jaw tightened. "I've… seen her kind before."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because once you speak their names aloud," he said grimly, "they listen."
Cassian frowned. "What does she want with Wren?"
Veylan didn't answer immediately. When he did, his voice was softer. "She wants to wake the blood in her. The old blood."
Wren stood abruptly, the blanket falling away from her shoulders. "No. I don't want that. I didn't ask for any of this."
"You don't have a choice," Cassian said, stepping forward. "You were born into this. Like I was born to lead a pack."
"And what if I don't want to burn the world to save it?" she asked, voice cracking. "What if I just want to live?"
"Then we fight fate," Veylan said. "Together."
The word together hung in the air like a promise.
Wren swallowed hard. Her gaze flicked between them—Cassian with his raw protectiveness, Veylan with his shadowed strength.
She didn't know if she could carry this alone.
"Come here," Cassian said quietly, holding out a hand.
She hesitated, but stepped toward him. He didn't pull her in roughly like before. This time, he simply rested his forehead against hers. No pressure. Just breath.
"I'll never let them take you," he said. "Not the Circle. Not fate. Not even the magic itself."
And then Veylan approached. Close, but respectful. "Neither will I."
Wren opened her eyes. Both men were standing before her, their hands within reach, their intentions laid bare.
She could feel the pulse again—her magic waking.
"You both might regret this," she murmured, a small, broken smile at her lips. "Being with me isn't safe."
Cassian smirked. "I'm a wolf. Danger's kind of my thing."
Veylan's eyes glinted. "And I come from shadows. I've already danced with death."
Wren let out a quiet laugh.
For a moment, there was peace.
But it never lasted long.
Cassian turned and stirred the fire with the iron poker, the embers sparking higher. "We need to plan our next move," he said, but his tone held a rough edge, like he didn't want to break the stillness they'd found.
Veylan moved to the window, peering through the frost-laced glass. "She came from the north. Bone Circle territory stretches far beyond the ruins now. If they sent her, it's not just a warning—it's a message."
"They know Wren's alive," Cassian said flatly. "They know she's learning. Growing stronger."
Wren moved to stand between them. "Then we strike first."
Both men looked at her, surprised.
"I'm done hiding," she said. "Done reacting. We go to the Circle. We find out what they want. And if it's a war they're planning, we prepare for it."
Cassian gave a slow nod, pride flickering in his eyes. "That's the fire I remember."
But Veylan didn't smile. "We can't just charge into Bone Circle lands. There are enchantments, traps… and worse."
"Then we find a way through them," Wren said. "There must be someone who knows the paths."
Veylan hesitated, then said, "There is someone. A deserter. A witch who escaped them years ago. But she's mad—lives alone in the hollows beyond the Ash Vale. They call her the Thorned Bride."
Wren raised an eyebrow. "Charming."
"She's dangerous," he warned. "But if anyone knows how to breach the Bone Circle's wards, it's her."
Cassian crossed his arms. "Then we go to her next."
"No," Veylan said sharply. "I'll go."
Wren frowned. "Why?"
"Because she knows me," he said, gaze flickering to the flames. "And if she sees more than one of us—if she senses your magic, Wren—she might lash out. She trusts no one."
A beat of silence passed.
Wren stepped closer to him. "And you trust her?"
"No," he said. "But I trust I can survive her long enough to get what we need."
Cassian exhaled hard. "I don't like splitting up."
"Neither do I," Wren said softly. "But we need answers."
Veylan nodded once. "I'll leave by first light."
She didn't want him to go. The thought of either of them stepping away, even for a night, twisted something in her chest. But she swallowed it down. They were in a war now. And there was no room for softness in war.
Later that night, Wren sat by the fire again, this time with Cassian beside her. He was close—but not pressing. His arm rested along the back of the old couch, his fingers occasionally brushing her hair. She let him. For now.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
"No," she said truthfully. "But I will be."
Cassian reached for her hand. "You're not alone in this."
Wren leaned her head on his shoulder, letting her guard drop just a little. "I know."
Outside, the wind moaned through the trees. Inside, warmth held the edges of the room.
Veylan stood in the shadows near the door, packed and ready. But his eyes were on Wren. Just Wren.
Cassian noticed—and his hand tightened around hers.
"I'll be back before the moon turns," Veylan said quietly.
Wren rose and crossed the room to him. Her fingers touched his sleeve. "Be careful."
He looked down at her. "I always am."
But she saw it in his eyes—he didn't expect this to be easy. Or safe.
Without thinking, she reached up and kissed his cheek. Just a whisper of a touch, but enough to make his breath catch.
Cassian stiffened behind her.
"Come back to me," she said.
Veylan nodded once, turned, and stepped into the night.
And just like that, the balance shifted again.
The cabin felt colder after Veylan left, as if the shadows he carried with him had been holding the chill at bay. Wren stood by the door long after it shut, staring into the black woods beyond.
Cassian joined her silently, his hand brushing her back. "You shouldn't have kissed him."
She turned slowly. "Why?"
"Because I'm trying not to lose my mind with you standing between us."
Her voice was soft, but steady. "I didn't ask to be."
"No," he agreed. "But I think part of you likes it."
The accusation burned, but not because it was false.
"I don't know what I feel right now, Cassian," she admitted. "Everything's tangled. Nothing's simple anymore."
He stepped closer, his eyes locked on hers. "Do you feel this?"
Wren's breath caught as he reached for her, pulling her to him—not roughly, but with a kind of desperate hunger she hadn't felt from him since that first kiss in the clearing. His mouth met hers, slow and intense, like he needed the kiss more than breath. She kissed him back, her hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt.
It was fire. Not gentle warmth, but full ignition. And it seared through her, burning away doubt, hesitation, fear.
When they pulled apart, her lips were flushed and his hands trembled slightly at her waist.
"I want you," he whispered, voice hoarse. "Even when I know I shouldn't."
She looked up at him, breathing hard. "Then don't stop."
But he did.
Cassian rested his forehead against hers again, like before. Like earlier that night when everything still felt fragile.
"I'll wait. I'll wait as long as you need. But don't make me watch you fall for him while I'm standing right here."
Wren closed her eyes. "I don't know what I'm falling into. Not yet."
He pulled back and nodded, his expression unreadable.
They both turned toward the hearth again, where the fire had burned low. Embers crackled softly, echoing the tension still lingering in the room.
Wren eventually laid down on the couch, Cassian curling into the chair nearby, eyes closed but not sleeping.
And alone, beneath the weight of prophecy, power, and two men who would bleed for her, Wren drifted into uneasy sleep.
Her dreams were not kind.
There were ruins in the distance. Blood on snow. A black crown.
And the woman from the Bone Circle standing at the edge of the world, her voice echoing in Wren's skull:
"You cannot run from what is written in your blood."