The mountains loomed ahead, white ridges cutting the night sky into jagged teeth. Their breath steamed in the cold as they ran, boots breaking through crusted ice. Behind them, the clash of steel and shouted orders echoed off the valley walls.
They were being herded.
Xiyue knew it. Feng Lian knew it.
Neither said a word.
Ruo Han stumbled once, but Xiyue's grip was there, hauling him upright without slowing. Feng Lian's eyes flicked to the contact, and his smirk sharpened.
Feng Lian: "Careful, Alpha. If you keep catching him like that, he might think you're gentle."
Xiyue: "You talk too much for someone about to lose his footing."
A flare of fire roared past Xiyue's ear, scorching through an incoming arrow before it could touch Ruo Han. Xiyue didn't thank him — but the twitch in his jaw said he'd noticed.
The ridge narrowed, a sheer drop yawning to their right. Snow swirled on the updraft. Ahead, shadowy figures blocked the pass, their eyes gleaming like a line of waiting wolves.
Xiyue (low): "Trap."
Feng Lian: "Obviously. The question is… whose?"
The wind carried the scent of steel and blood — and something else. Bitter. Familiar. It made Ruo Han's pulse quicken, though he couldn't name why.
From the shadows, a voice called out.
Unknown: "The Vessel walks into the wolf's den. How convenient."
The enemy stepped forward, snow crunching beneath his boots — and in the flicker of moonlight, Ruo Han froze.
He knew that face.