The soft flicker of lanterns lined the hallway of Dormitory 3B. Inside Room 312, Elowyn hurried and lay curled on the thin cot, facing the wall. Her bruises ached beneath the borrowed shirt. Her ribs throbbed. But her mind wouldn't rest.

A quiet knock tapped the door.

Not urgent. Not loud.

But enough to make her bolt upright, panic flooding her limbs.

She opened it slowly.

It was Baron.

He looked annoyed.

"You're a shame to wherever you come from and you really should go back. Be warned."

Just that. And he walked away.

Elowyn was tongue-tied. She felt bad but she couldn't just stand there.

She retreated, chilled.

A group of men — cloaked, fast on foot, and breathing heavy — approached the mouth of Haspan Cosmoses’ stronghold.

Their leader stepped forward. An older Beta, hunched slightly with age and submission.

“Greetings. We come with a message." He said, bowing deeply. “From Alpha Sergius Bezus."

"What for?" A thick and sinister voice queried.

"He begs your patience, Alpha. The girl you seek—she’s vanished into the Spirit Veil. Even your own scouts—”

“Silence!”

The voice sliced the air like steel.

Haspan slowly emerged from the shadows of his throne. His pale-golden robes shimmered beneath his armor. His eyes were black, wide, godless.

“Which of you thought it wise to delay me?”

No one answered.

“I asked a question.”

The older man stepped forward again. “We only hoped you’d grant Sergius time. The young wolf....”

Schkk—

Haspan moved.

Fast.

By the time the man’s sentence ended, his head hit the grass, rolled once, and stopped at another's feet.

Gasps.

One of the younger men cried out in shock.

“Tell Sergius....” Haspan said calmly, sheathing the blade “....that next time, I won’t waste my steel on an errand boy. I’ll come for his bloodline.”

The surviving men retreated, barely able to look back.

They were shaken.

They began to run off with inhuman speed of light.

The moonlight slipped in through the slatted window, cutting across Elowyn’s bruised arms as she sat hunched in front of her beside table. Every breath hurt.

She couldn't dare bow to tiredness.

She needed to pen a letter and when she looked down, she jumped.

Every movement was a reminder that she didn’t belong here — not really.

And yet…

On the tiny wooden table was a folded parchment. Sealed with a small flame-shaped stamp.

Mia.

Elowyn snatched it quickly, heart pounding. She glanced at the door. Then unfolded it with shaking fingers.

“Dear Elowyn...."

For long and touching moments, she was deep in her reading. Memories flooded her mind but what could she do but hold back the overwhelming sorrow and tears?

Elowyn exhaled shakily. Her eyes welled, but no tears fell.

Not tonight.

She reached for the ink and quill.

“Dear Mia” she scribbled.

I don't know if you'll get this soon — or at all. But today was the first day I felt like I almost fit in. Just a little. Not because they chose me. But because someone let me in… even if it was by mistake.

Baron carried me off the field after I got beat near to death. He allowed me to get in his group.

Not sure what shocked me more — the beating, or the fact that he didn’t leave me there like a dog.

Still hurts, though. Everywhere.

Do you have anything that can dull sensations? Some herb? A balm? Even a powder? I know you can’t send it, but just hearing the name might help. Make me feel less stupid for thinking I could survive this place.

If you could please send me some more binding herb, I'd be beyond grateful.

Dear Friend, If I live long enough, I’ll find a way to visit you. I swear it.

Mia, you can never sound selfish to me.

I love you.

– Elyan (who is also Elowyn, but you knew that already)

She queezed it quickly and shut her eyes, a sad smile touching her lips as the letter melted into her palm just as Mia had told her.

Then she went to the bed and lay back down, her hands clasped to her chest.

And for the first time in weeks, she fell asleep not feeling entirely alone.

Back at Sergius' Quarters, he dropped his goblet when the news was delivered. The silver clanged across the floor.

Fear gripped him.

“He—he what?”

“Beheaded Jori, sir,” one of the men choked, bowing. “Didn’t blink doing it. Said you’re next if you delay again.”

Sergius paled.

He sat down slowly.

Then stood again.

“No more messengers." He said, shaking.

His voice trembled slightly.

“No more excuses. We must find that girl and deliver her to him. I don’t care if you have to burn the Spirit Veil itself. Bring Mia to me. Now.”

And the fear that burned in his eyes were far too obvious to behold.