Maybe I had heard whispers about the Undercity before, tucked between tales shared by careless mouths, but if I had, I never stored them in my heart. I never thought those details mattered to .
That’s why, when I stood atop the tower that connected the hidden world of the Undercity to the lands above, I couldn’t have imagined what waited beyond it.
Cold wind sliced across my face as I stepped closer to the edge.
The lands stretched before , barren and endless, a canvas of snow and pale stone. Trees stood like skeletons, bark brittle and blackened, stripped of life as though the seasons themselves had abandoned them.
No birds stirred. No tracks marred the frost.
It was desolation.
The starkness made realize how peculiar the Undercity truly was.
Down below, from Rion’s towering castle where there was a magnificent view of the city, I had seen forests alive with green, breathing air rich with earth’s life as though spring and sumr had chosen to make their ho there eternally.
Now, standing in this wasteland above, I was certain that Undercity survived by sothing unnatural, sothing ancient.
So old, powerful magic pulsed beneath its foundations, shielding it from ruin, from this unforgiving cold.
But whose magic? A wolf shifter’s? Could one Alpha’s power stretch far enough to cover such vast lands?
The wards of the lands pressed faintly against my senses, humming at the edges of perception like invisible threads woven across the sky.
I figured the wards allowed anyone to walk in the lands of the Undercity above, but I felt the subtle resistance beneath the surface.
Protection, yes, but protection that would turn to prison if anyone dared to break its laws.
I folded my arms against the biting wind, casting a glance at those who stood with .
Rion was unbothered by the cold, his silver hair shifting like quicksilver strands beneath the pale sun.
Diaval stood silent, a shadow cloaked in patience. Ares, didn’t have the playful expression on his face and lood just behind them, unreadable.
Thre three of them stood like seasoned warriors. No fear, no anxiety, nothing. Just calmness as if they had done this a thousand tis before.
Below the tower, the rogues of Arthien gathered.
More than a dozen wolves waited on the snowy plain, their massive forms pacing restlessly, fur bristling in colors of earth and shadow. Gold eyes caught the light, glinting with feral sharpness.
My breath caught. Wolves like this were dangerous... untad, lawless.
But the wolves of the Undercity standing by my side weren’t any better.
The one at the front shifted.
Bones cracked, fur receded, and in monts, a man stood where a beast had been.
He was middle-aged, tall and broad, with a body honed by violence.
A long scar carved across his face from temple to jaw, twisting his mouth into sothing both grotesque and proud. He didn’t hide it. He wore it like a badge, as though it marked him as untouchable.
"It has been a while, Arjan," Rion called down, his voice warm as the sumr sun, as though he greeted an old companion.
The distance should have swallowed his words, yet the air carried them perfectly, unnaturally. Wolves, especially the strong ones, didn’t need proximity when their senses sharpened the world into clarity.
I held my breath, straining my ears. I had to double my concentration just to hear sothing from the Arthien.
A pause. Then the rogue’s voice ca faint, low, but clear enough. "Hello, old friend."
Sothing about the way he said it made the wind feel colder.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence here in my lands?" Rion asked smoothly. His posture was easy, almost indulgent, but I could feel the steel beneath his words. "I believe I don’t require your services."
I almost snorted. Of course he didn’t. Rion Morrigan would never need anyone to bloody his hands for him. He would do it himself—and savor it.
The scarred man smiled, though it didn’t soften his face.
"Your tone hasn’t changed. Still certain you stand above all others."
"And you," Rion countered easily, "are still trying to convince yourself that you can be my equal. But here you are, looking up at ."
The wolves below shifted uneasily, claws digging into snow.
A ripple of tension passed through them, but Arjan only chuckled.
"You really have the gift of irking others without trying, I’ll give you that. Still, I thought this might interest you."
His gaze flicked to Rion’s side, landing squarely on .
My heart lurched. His lips curled, the expression making the scar on his face deepen.
"You have co all this way for a reason," Rion said coolly. "Say it before my patience runs thin."
Arjan spread his arms, palms open as though in mock offering.
"Then I’ll speak plainly. My pack ca across sothing recently. A magic relic. A relic centuries old. Sothing you’ve been searching for, if rumors are true."
Rion’s eyes narrowed, the faintest flicker betraying interest.
My pulse quickened.
Relic? What relic?
"I’m listening," Rion said.
Arjan’s grin widened. "The Millow Shade."
The air seed to still. Even Ares’s head tilted, his eyes sharpening in surprise. Diaval’s hand twitched at his side, the only sign that the na ant sothing.
Rion’s smirk returned, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
"Oh, did you look for it for ? How thoughtful of you, Arjan. Are you sure, though, that what you have found is a true relic?"
"You can inspect it yourself," Arjan’s voice carried conviction. "I wouldn’t dare stand on your lands with false claims."
Sothing dark flickered in Rion’s gaze.
He wanted it, I could feel his interest in the air, venomous. But he said nothing, waiting, calculating.
Arjan’s eyes slid toward again.
My stomach dropped.
"How about a bargain?" he said, scar twisting as his smile deepened. "You can have the artifact... and I’ll have the girl. A fair deal, don’t you think?"
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