̣⭒˙✵• ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯☽✮☾⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ •✵˙⭒ ̣

You're just a sinner, I am told

Be your fire when you're cold

Make you happy when you're sad

Make you good when you are bad

I Would Die 4 U – Prince

The sun beats relentlessly down on the still-green wheat fields and the orchards crowding the plains. Tear slips into the shadow of the forest, where the buzzing of the first cicadas blends with the distant chirping of birds. The border of Insidia isn't far from here, and his feet seem to carry him there on their own. It's the only stretch of woods where he knows he won't run into any troublemakers: no Ravens dare approach this area, and the Pack doesn't even know it exists. Except for the stray.

Tear inhales and exhales, his body naturally falling into the starting position of his training routine. He moves from one stance to another with power and grace. Has the Council finished their session yet? What decisions will they make? Exile or me? I should've convinced Anice not to report it. I should've begged her to let it go, to let the Pack handle it. But after the death of a warrior, what excuse could I have used to manipulate her? Maybe I should've manipulated the Council, convinced them of Anice's bad faith, of the unreliability of her testimony. After all, she's hated the stray since before the war. Since the moment they assigned me to her watch. It wouldn't have been hard to prove.

The shrill whistle of sacred metal cutting the air yanks him out of that less-than-ideal train of thought. His priority is still to protect Anice; he will never betray his partner. Better to shut off my mind and focus solely on training.

Tear balances on his hands, struggling to finish his vertical push-ups when the familiar shadow of Anice reaches him. She perches on one of the white rocks jutting from the ground just before the entrance to Insidia. He completes his set with fluid grace, then rises smoothly to his feet.

"The sedentary life doesn't seem to be getting to you," Anice laughs softly, tossing a water bottle in his direction. "They can take you off the battlefield, but they can't take the battlefield out of you."

"Why are you here, Anice?" Tear gets straight to the point, wiping away sweat with a towel before taking a drink.

"I just wanted to know how you were doing, that's all," she sulks. "Since we got back, you've barely spoken a word to me."

"You know I've had to deal with the report and the interrogations about that whole mess."

"Did... Lady Celeste punish you?" A shiver of horror runs down the dolus's spine.

"She didn't punish me," his voice turns colder, more detached. "She used her tricks to make sure I wasn't lying, since there were discrepancies between our reports."

Silence falls over the corner of the woods. Tear moves closer, settling on one of the white stones, different from the one Anice occupies.

"Are you angry with me because I didn't lie?" The sting of pride laces the girl's tone.

"Are you saying I lied?" His gray-blue eyes lock onto hers, pinning her in a single breath.

"No, but you weren't precise, as if..." Her thin lips press together, and she lowers her gaze to the hands twisted in her lap.

"As if what?" Tear straightens in response to the implied accusation.

"As if you wanted to protect the stray," her clear eyes flash, briefly meeting his face, as cold as snow.

A shiver of annoyance runs down the custos's spine at hearing the nickname 'stray' come from another warrior's mouth. "Why would I protect a Wolf?"

"I don't know," she squints, suspicious, a fire flickering deep in her gaze. Jealousy? "Maybe because you pity her, or maybe because, after these months of being forced to follow her, you've grown attached."

"She's just a Wolf," Tear sighs, standing up with a hint of irritation, then begins walking toward the Castle. "I thought you were smarter than this."

He leaves Anice behind and strides down the path toward the Nest. She's far too clever. Or maybe it's me—maybe I wasn't careful enough. The Raven casts a glance toward the Den, barely visible beyond the Sycamore decorated for the Harvest festival that evening. If I hadn't dragged her into all this, if I hadn't treated her like a weapon, if I hadn't forced her to swallow the miasma to guarantee myself a safe place outside, we wouldn't be at this point. It's my fault, and I have to find a way to get her out of this mess.

"Hey, wait!" Anice shouts, furious, grabbing his arm and forcing him to turn toward her. "We're not done!"

"You want to accuse me of something else?" He responds indifferently.

"I'm not accusing you of anything!" She snaps, her hands flying in agitation. "I'm just saying how things are. You filed an incomplete, sloppy report—definitely not your style."

"What do you know about my style?" He tries to smooth the sharpness of the question. "I've always reported my missions the same way. Maybe you're just better at writing reports and think we should all be at your level."

"You left out information, and you labeled it all as a side effect of the miasma on a Wolf," Anice persists. "You made a murder look like a stupid accident!"

"Wolves are stupid," the boy says, his voice flat. "And I certainly don't believe a warrior would kill another by accident. The blood oath is clear."

"I know that, but what if..." She hesitates, shifting on her feet. "What if the stray had been corrupted beyond repair? That Flower in the war was a monster we didn't know anything about! She could have turned her into one of them, like that other Wolf said. Even her father wanted to condemn her to die!"

A surge of rage burns through Tear's veins, but his face betrays nothing. "Either way, that's the Pack's business and the Council's. I don't care."

A detail catches his gray-blue eyes: Anice's fingertips are stained with unmistakable ink. Soot black? Why would the Keeper of the Library use that kind of ink instead of the synthetic one imported from the human world? He lifts her hand and presses her stained fingers to his mouth, licking the tip. The unmistakable taste of soot and bile confirms his suspicions about the material, and his mind begins to churn with plausible theories.

"Tear," Anice sighs, groaning his name heavily. "What's gotten into you?"

"What did you use the soot black for?"

The dolus pales, yanking her hand from his grip. "I had to copy some documents, that's all. It's not mandatory to use ink."

"That's a lie, and you know it, Keeper," his penetrating gaze leaves her no escape.

His specialty—the sense of dominance—kicks beneath his skin, just enough to make Anice swallow in terror. He's never had to use this trick with her. Then again, she's never lied to him about something like this. Something this crucial.

"A report," she stammers.

"What kind of report?" He grips her wrist, tightening his hold.

"Lady Celeste asked me to write it!" Anice hisses, terrified.

"Tell me what she made you write," his words leave no room for mercy.

"A document... a document for the Council."

"A secret document?" He asks only for confirmation. The girl weakly nods. "What did it say?"

"'Hereby, the sentence of the accused is approved. The punishment will be commuted from exile to another form to be served within the barrier's boundaries.'" She repeats every word slowly.

"When did she ask you to write this? Was this the only thing in it?" A revoked exile?

"It was the final part of today's session report. I just had to add this in soot black to a copy for the Order's records," Anice slips out of his grip. "Why do you care so much?"

The custos's mind halts abruptly. No, this can't be possible. "Was there a name?"

"Not in the part I was asked to copy," her tone cracks slightly. It's not the same fear as before. "Tear, what's going on?"

"They made you transcribe a death sentence," he says, resuming his walk toward the Castle. Maybe something even worse than a death sentence.

"What do you mean? I don't follow!" She protests, trying to stay in his footsteps. "If the exile was revoked, then..."

"There are worse things than exile."

He lengthens his stride, his steps so long that they force the Dolus to break into a run up the path leading to the Castle gate.

"Tear, wait for me!" She complains, breathless, barely crossing the threshold. "What's worse than exile?"

There's me. There's Lady Celeste and Lord Endimion. There's the Order. "You don't need to leave the barrier to starve to death."

The shadow of that thought is so clear in Anice's clear eyes that it almost stains her. She hadn't considered it. She'd copied the text because she'd been ordered to, as always. Her loyalty to the Flock sometimes blinds her to the consequences beyond the task at hand. How can she be so naïve, after witnessing the horrors of war, after everything I've told her about the stray, about how the mutts treated her in that shack? I didn't tell her everything, of course. I told her only what made it into the reports, but she knew they kept her starving in a rat hole, away from anyone, wasting away day after day. Cruelty is the right reward for a job well done.

"Are they going to let her die because of me?" Her voice trembles, thick with tears. "The stray... are they going to let her die because I... because I wrote those things in my report?"

"We don't know yet," Tear lies, seeing the stricken look on his partner's face. "Maybe they'll just keep her prisoner, like last time."

A few steps from the gate, the entrance is filled with the sharp sound of unfamiliar footsteps. They aren't Ravens. The same thought crosses Anice's mind, and she freezes, eyes locked on the source of the rhythmic sound. Two warriors step out from the shadows, emerging into the light of the foyer. Tear recognizes the first at a glance, while the second one, he believes, he saw during the Solstice.

"Wolves?" The dolus whispers once the pair has passed. "What are they doing here?"

"I don't know," Tear responds flatly, his eyes glued to the first warrior's back.

"Do you know them?" The girl asks, following the trail of his gaze.

"The one on the right, I think, was the warrior who handled the Union ceremony for the Wolves," he says, shifting his focus to the second warrior to avoid suspicion.

"An Elder of the Pack at the Nest?"

The answer can only be one, and it's not good news. "None of our concern," the custos replies curtly, then bends down to kiss Anice on the forehead. "I'm going for a bath. I'll see you at dinner."

The girl nods, her worry still etched on her face, undiminished by the sweet smile she offers Tear. He turns his back on her and runs up the stairs toward the common wing. His mind is free again to churn over all the details. The soot black message reserved for the Order's report means only one thing: they'll make the Pack believe she was exiled, while she spends the rest of her life as the Flock's toy and guinea pig. I have to warn her. I have to warn the stray before she ends up in the clutches of my guardians and the Observers.

̣⭒˙✵• ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯☽✮☾⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ •✵˙⭒ ̣