RAVYN'S POV
The hidden passage outside the hall opened up to a tree-covered clearing where the witchlights hung like lazy fireflies. The ride was already waiting.
A Troupe Wagon—painted in faded purples and chipped gold. Wide enough to seat a small cast of witches, and long enough to hide them.
Crimson curtains fluttered at the open windows, edges burned from candle accidents and enchantments gone wrong. Silver runes glimmered faintly along the wood, a poor man's protection spell—but it would have to do.
The carriage rumbled down the worn cobbled road, its wheels groaning at every dip and shift. Mana-fed lanterns swung at the front, casting flickering light that barely cut the dark.
Inside, the space was cramped and strange. There were long benches on both sides, once meant for dancers, now holding witches with trunks and satchels and blade-folded skirts.
Costume racks lined one side of the wagon, left exactly as they were—lace masks, sequined cloaks, silk gloves, and feathered skirts swaying with each bump of the road. Hidden among them, spell scrolls were tucked inside corset seams and potion kits nested beneath tulle petticoats. A perfect cover, and a necessary one.
I sank into a worn cushion, brushing off a forgotten sequin. The scent inside was thick—perfume clashing with sweat, dried herbs, and the underlying tang of nervous magic. Something metallic burned faintly in the air—someone had packed bloodstone again.
Across from me, a girl adjusted the shawl draped over her shoulders. Runes stitched into the fabric shimmered with every motion.
"Hope the wards on this thing hold," she muttered, tapping the brass charm nailed to the doorframe.
"If not, at least we'll die pretty," Lilith said without missing a beat, tightening the black ribbon around her corset.
Nyx barked a laugh. "Speak for yourself. I don't want to die in transit. That's embarrassing."
Circe gave her a flat look. "You hexed this wagon yourself."
"Exactly," Nyx said. "Which is why I don't want it failing. It would reflect badly on my brand."
We all chuckled—low and strained, but real.
Outside, the trees thinned as the path curved, and the coven slowly disappeared behind us. The forest swallowed the light, and only the soft clatter of wheels and the distant howls of the wild remained.
I leaned back, arms crossed, staring at the flickering mana lantern above us. Its light sputtered, then steadied—barely.
We were heading toward the courts of wolves.
And though we didn't speak it aloud, we all knew the truth.
None of us would return the same.
...
A girl's voice broke through the trees. Faint, trembling.
"Please don't take her… she's all I have left…"
My small hands clawed at the dark, reaching for the figure dragging a taller shadow away—my mother. My screams came raw and desperate, echoing off stone walls that weren't there a moment ago.
"I said stop! Give her back!"
My feet slipped in the mud—was it mud? Blood? I couldn't tell. The world around me flickered like a dying flame, shadows shifting into the shape of cloaked bodies, the scent of ash thick in my lungs.
Then I saw him.
Not a man, not yet. A boy. Maybe only a few years older than me, but taller, with power coiled in the stillness of his frame. His eyes glowed faintly, not gold, not red—something older. His face stayed blurred, fogged by memory or maybe magic, but his voice? His voice stayed.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his arm around my waist holding me firm, anchoring me even as I fought against him like a caged thing. "But I have to do this."
"NO!" I screamed, twisting, thrashing, my nails digging into skin that felt too real—too warm—my sobs raw and wild as my mother was dragged into darkness. "Please, I'll do anything, just don't take her—"
A sharp poke jabbed my upper arm. Once. Twice.
I gasped awake.
Mana-light flickered above. I blinked blearily, my chest rising and falling fast, heart pounding like a war drum in my ears. Sweat clung to my skin, dampening my hairline and the fabric of my corseted top. The sharp scent of rosemary and sweat clung to my nostrils like it had been dragged out of the dream with me.
"You good?" Nyx was crouched beside me on the bench, frowning. Her finger hovered, ready to jab again.
I wiped my face quickly with the back of my sleeve, pulling myself upright as the wagon jostled beneath us.
"I'm fine," I said with a breathless chuckle and a weak smile. "Bad dream. That's all."
Nyx didn't look convinced. Neither did Lilith, whose chin rested on her fist as she squinted at me. Circe raised an eyebrow but said nothing, just passed me a small square of dried lavender cloth. I accepted it wordlessly, dabbing my forehead and neck.
"You were muttering," Lilith said. "Didn't catch the words, but it didn't sound pleasant."
"Yeah," I murmured. "I don't remember much." A lie. My fingers curled tightly around the cloth in my lap.
Before anyone could press further, Nyx suddenly leaned toward the tiny window, squinting.
"I can see the castle," she said, her voice rising with forced enthusiasm. "We're almost there!"
A groan chorused through the wagon.
"Ugh, already?" Circe flopped dramatically against the wall, her braids spilling over her shoulder.
"I was hoping the wheel would fall off," Lilith muttered. "Could've bought us another day."
"You mean another hour," Nyx corrected dryly.
The witches shifted, some leaning to peer through the curtained windows, others beginning to fuss with their hair or reapply smudged kohl with quick incantations and half-polished mirrors.
I didn't move.
Instead of looking out, I sank back against the bench, closing my eyes just for a moment as the memory's fingers still clung faintly to my chest. That boy. His grip. His voice. That whisper: "I have to do this."
The castle was ahead. I could feel it. But something else stirred deeper—older.
I steadied my breathing, focusing on the rhythm of the wheels and the muffled curses from Nyx as she nearly dropped her charm pouch again.
I would not cry. Not here. Not now.
The wagon creaked louder as it rolled over uneven stone, the trees now replaced by looming stone walls, shadows stretching long across the windows.
Whatever waited for us inside the Court of Wolves—I knew it had teeth.
And it was already sniffing me out.