In a room in the back of the library, Everest was looking at maps with Eustace and Mahou.

“So, Faye, sage’s sister, is in a town called Virelia Hollow.” Everest circled it on the map, then looked up. “It’s a chaotic place—magic’s completely unbalanced. Crime, strange energy spikes, disappearances… Faye went in to help stabilize the hollow. But we haven’t heard from her.”

Eustace nodded slowly. “That’s where I found Amethyst. I know the currents of that place–vortices of power that never flow straight. They twist, pulling you sideways, dragging thought and will into places you didn’t mean to go.”

Mahou leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “If she’s in trouble, we’ll need more than a path—we need a way through the storm unnoticed.” His eyes flicked to Eustace. “You have any secret maps?”

“I made them.” Eustace crossed to the far wall, where a section of shelving looked more decorative than functional. With a quiet hiss of recognition, it slid open under his touch, revealing a vault lined in cold black stone.

Mahou raised a brow. “Do all of your shelves lie?”

“Only the useful ones.”

He withdrew a scroll sealed with a silver clasp and unrolled it across the table. The map pulsed faintly, drawn in ink that shimmered blue when touched. 

Eustace gently smoothed the edges of the glowing map. “If we want to be hidden—Then we take the undercurrent.”

Everest blinked. “The what?”

“It’s an old path beneath Virelia Hollow,” Mahou explained, eyes scanning the lines etched in luminous ink. “A network of tunnels carved by ancient magic. Not by design—more like pressure fractures, where raw spellcraft once surged and couldn’t be contained.”

“They were used by magic users hiding from humans” Eustace added. “To move unseen. Most are collapsed now, but there’s one left. Here—” He pointed to a jagged scar beneath the town’s border. “This one is alive.”

Everest’s voice dropped. “And… it’s safe?”

“No,” Mahou said. “But it’s quieter than going in through the gate, and we won’t draw attention.”

Eustace nodded. “I can gather navigational charms and tether anchors. But someone has to scout the path ahead.”

“I’ll do it,” Mahou offered, his voice steady.

“You won’t go alone,” Eustace replied. “We’ll need someone quick, sharp-eyed. Sakura can read terrain faster than most.”

He gestured to the map, drawing Everest’s attention to each name as he spoke. “Rosalie. If things go sideways, she can throw up a perimeter without sight, hold the line when others can’t. And Oscar—don’t underestimate him. From above, he sees what the rest of us miss. In unpredictable ground, he’ll spot danger before it ever reaches you.”

Everest leaned over the map. “Her, yes. And Rosalie—if things go sideways, she can hold a blind perimeter. And Oscar.” He looked up. “No one moves through unpredictable terrain like he does from above. He can spot danger before we reach it.”

Mahou’s gaze drifted to the high window, where dusk was sinking into the bones of the city.

“Then it’s settled,” he said. “Let’s go tell the others.”

Sunlight poured through the stained-glass dome overhead, scattering soft reds and golds across the stone floor. The air in the main hall of the Obsidian Athenaeum was warm, still carrying the hum of midday.

Mahou stepped into the foyer, flanked by Eustace and Everest. Conversations tapered off as the others gathered—some perched along cushioned benches, others clustered in the shadow of tall arched windows. All eyes found him.

“We leave tomorrow at first light,” Mahou began. “Faye’s last known location was Virelia Hollow correct?”

He glanced around the room, his voice even but unyielding. “This team needs precision, speed, and discipline. Sakura, Rosalie, Oscar, Everest, and I will go. Eustace will arm us with protections before we leave.”

Sakura stood straighter. Rosalie didn’t blink. Oscar simply watched, unreadable but already deciding what to pack.

Mahou continued, his voice softening. “The rest of you will stay here. The Athenaeum must remain secure. This place houses more than knowledge—it’s our anchor.”

There was a quiet shift among the crowd. Indigo stood with arms folded near a marble column, offering no protest. Farren gave a slow nod. Emrys glanced at Kenan but said nothing.

Sage stepped forward, calm but steady. His gaze landed on Everest.

“Kenan’s not going?” Everest’s voice carried a note of uncertainty.

Kenan blinked once. “Wait. What?”

Sage didn’t flinch. “It was my decision.”

“You can’t be serious,” Kenan said, voice cracking between frustration and disbelief. “I’ve trained for this. I’m fast. I know how to hold my ground.”

“You’re not ready,” Everest said simply.

Kenan turned to Sage, almost pleading. “Sage—”

But Sage shook his head once. “This isn’t punishment,” he said. “It’s protection. You’re my little brother, Kenan. And if you go in unsteady, you might not come back. I won’t risk losing you in the dark.”

Kenan’s fists clenched so tight his knuckles blanched, his voice snapping like a whip. “I can do this!” The words rang with fury, but beneath them trembled something rawer, almost pleading. His chest heaved as he pushed on, louder now, desperate. “You never even give me the chance—you don’t see me, don’t see what I could be!” His tone cracked, anger bleeding into hurt. “Why do you shut me out before I even begin? Why won’t you believe in me?”

Sage stepped closer, his tone steady but not unkind. “I do believe in you, Kenan. But belief isn’t enough—you have to prove it. And you prove it by staying. Hold this ground. Keep everyone else safe. That’s how you show me you’re ready.”

Emrys moved beside him silently—offering presence, not words.

Kenan looked between his brother and mate, trembling with held-back fury, then turned away before they could see the frustration in his eyes.

Mahou watched all of it quietly, then spoke. “We move at dawn tomorrow. Spend today preparing. Think carefully about what matters most.”

The group began to scatter, tension hanging like humidity in the air. Indigo was already gone, slipping out the door toward whatever plan he’d made without speaking it aloud.

Outside, Kenan paced the perimeter of the west yard, claws half-shifted and eyes bright with frustration. Dust swirled in his wake as he passed the same tree for the third time.

Emrys sat in the shade nearby, watching but waiting. He knew better than to speak too soon when Kenan was frustrated—too many words only made the heat rise.

Finally, Kenan growled through clenched teeth. “They never let me do anything.”

Emrys tilted his head.

“I mean it. Sage just made the decision. Again. Everest backs him like it's law carved into stone. No discussion. Just—‘you’re staying behind, Kenan.’ Like I’m still some pup who can’t be trusted not to chase lightning.”

Emrys stood slowly, padding over on silent paws before shifting back to his full form—lean but steady, arms crossed, eyes calm.

Kenan didn’t meet his gaze. “I’ve trained harder than half of them. I’ve studied every combat rotation, I memorized the maps, I—” His voice cracked. “I’m ready. I know I am.”

Emrys inhaled slowly, the silence stretching between them like drawn breath. “I know you are.”

That made Kenan turn, disbelief flickering across his face. “Then say something! Stand up to Sage for once. You’re ranked enough to question him.”

“I’m also his packmate,” Emrys said evenly. “And we’re wolves. We follow our alpha’s word.”

Kenan scoffed, storming a few paces away. “Convenient.”

“Hey.” Emrys closed the distance between them. “You think this is easy for me? Watching the person I love get told he’s not enough, and knowing if I step in the wrong way, it makes him look weaker, not stronger?”

Kenan stiffened.

“I get where Sage is coming from,” Emrys continued, voice softer. “But that doesn’t mean I agree. You’ve more than earned the right to fight beside them. They just haven’t caught up to what I already see.”

Kenan turned slowly, finally meeting his eyes. “Then why do I still feel like I’ll always be running behind them? Like no matter how hard I train, it’ll never matter?”

Emrys reached forward and rested a hand against his jaw, grounding him. “Because you care. Because you want your place to be earned, not handed. That’s the difference between you and everyone else trying to prove themselves—you don’t want power. You want purpose.”

Kenan’s shoulders sagged, tension bleeding out in a long exhale. “I hate that we have to just… obey.”

“So do I,” Emrys said. “But we’re wolves. Obedience doesn’t mean silence. It means timing. Let them lead today. And when your moment comes, they’ll wish they had listened sooner.”

Kenan leaned into him slightly, eyes closed.

“Stay with me?” he asked, the question barely audible.

“I always do,” Emrys murmured, pulling him closer beneath the warm curve of the sun-dappled wall.