The dungeon swallowed her whole. She was thrown down the steps like a refuse, her bound wrist burning as they scraped against damp stone. The door slammed shut behind her with a sound that seemed to echo forever, sealing her to a space that reeked of rot, blood, and despair. The only light that came from a narrow slit high above, barely enough to outline the bodies packed inside.
This was not a cell meant for one prisoner.
Men and women huddled against the walls, some chained, some curled into themselves as though trying to disappear. Low groans drifted through the darkness. Someone coughed, wet and ragged.
Elara staggered, catching herself against the wall before her knees could give way. Rose sat near the far corner, her back pressed to the stone, her grey hair matted and her face drawn pale. In her arms lay Mathias. He was sprawled across her lap, too still. His chest rose, but shallowly, as though each breath was a a battle he might soon lose. Blood darkened his chest at the side. A sound tore from Rose's throat as Elara's gaze met hers.
She clutched her son closer, rocking him, her tears cutting clean paths through the dirt on her cheeks.
Elara moved without thinking, dropped to her knees beside them, the cold stone biting through her skin. "He's alive," she said softly. "He's breathing. Let me help him."
Rose's head snapped up.
"No." she recoiled, dragging Mathias closer.
She swallowed, her throat burning, and bowed her head slightly. "I forgive you, Rose." she said quietly. "You owe me nothing. Don't torment yourself."
Rose shook her head, tears falling freely.
Elara pressed her ear briefly to his chest, listening and counting the uneven beats of his heart. His skin was hot with fever. Infection. Her jaw tightened.
She scraped damp clay from a crack in the stone floor, mixing it with spit in her palm, ignoring the revulsion in her stomach. Clay could draw out poison. It could cool heat. She peeled back the clay as Mathias groaned faintly in response. Rose whimpered, turning her face away.
"I know it's hurts to watch," She murmured more to Rose than to Mathias. "But if we don't clean this, his wolf will die."
With gentle, steady hands, she pressed another clay mixture to the wound, packing it in despite the filth. She tore a strip from her own dress and bound it tightly. Rose stared at her.
"After everything...why would you still help him?" Rose whispered hoarsely.
"Because this," she said softly, "is what Caius wants us to stop doing. Caring. Choosing each other."
She met Rose gaze again. "And I refuse to let him win."
Caius stood near the narrow window of his chamber, fingers braced against cold stone as he watched the fire below. The door creaked open. One of his men slipped inside.
"You sent for news, my lord."
He turned slowly, firelight carved his face into hard planes. "You said Thorn has not been found."
"Yes, but we are tracking him."
His jaw tightened. "And?"
The man hesitated and Caius noticed.
"What else did you hear, you limp?"
The man's shoulder stiffened. "Word travels among rogues." he said carefully. "Dante has been digging for answers."
"About what?"
"The council," the man said. "The night they were killed. The scrolls. He's offering protection and gold for anyone who knows something."
"Of course he is," he murmured. "Always the hero." He walked back to the window, staring out as if he could see his brother through the miles of the forest.
"Dante is predictable," he said. "Always digging where rot has been carefully buried." He stopped and turned.
"Bring the old fool to me. Looks like its time for him to die."
The man bowed deeply. "Yes my lord."
Mathias stirred and she lifted her head at once. He was propped against Rose, hovering over him like a fragile shield, her hands trembling as he brushed his hair back again and again, as if he might vanish if she stopped touching him.
"Elara," Mathias croaked.
Her heart leapt. She crawled to him, ignoring the ache in her bones. "You're awake."
His cracked lips curved up to a weak smile. "You saved me," he whispered. Then as if remembering something urgent, his eyes widened. "Your parents are alive."
"What?" she breathed, gripping his arm.
"I hid them," he said, "I killed Caius's men and rescued them. His men found me afterwards."
Her vision blurred. She pressed her forehead briefly to his shoulder, relief crashing through so hard it almost hurt.
"Where have you been?" Mathias asked. "They said you were taken."
"I was," she said quietly. "But someone saved me. Dante."
Rose stiffened.
"I know him," Mathias said trying to sit up. "He helped me find where your parents could stay to be safe. He's a good man."
The name hadn't fully left her lips when a sound came from the far corner of the cell. A low, rasping chuckle.
"So," a voice said, old and frayed like it had been dragged through years of pain and torture. "you know the rogue."
Elara turned slowly. She hadn't noticed him before. He was curled into himself at the edge of the cell, half-hidden in shadow. His hair was long and dirty, his skin stretched thin over sharp bones. Chains weighed down his wrists. She rose and approached him carefully.
He was naked, bruises blooming across his ribs, his chest rising in shallow, uneven breaths.
"I want to speak to Dante."
"You look like you could die." Elara gasped. She tore the hem of her gown and draped it over his bare shoulders, covering him.
"Caius murdered the council." he whispered.
"Hush," she breathed urgently. "If they hear-"
"They already know," he said. "They need someone to remind them again."
Her heart hammered.
"I need something to write on," he said suddenly. "A scroll. Cloth. Anything."
"Why?" she asked and wondering if the man had gone mad.
"Because words are the only thing left to kill him."
She tore more of her gown, wondering if she'll have anything left on her body soon. The man dragged himself closer to the wall, then lifted his chained wrist and scraped it hard against the stone. Blood welled.
"Stop!" she gasped.
Using his blood, he wrote. Each stroke cost him effort. Names. Dates. Symbols only the Alpha will understand. When he finished, he pressed the cloth into her hands.
"Find Dante," he said. "Give this to him."
Before she could respond, boots thundered down the corridor. Keys clanged. Hands seized the old man, yanking him to his feet. He didn't scream but he met Elara's gaze one last time.
"Run with the truth, and it will set us free." he whispered.