[POV: Solenne]
She woke before him.
It was the first thing she noticed—his stillness. Ruvan, the restless storm, the man who twitched and murmured and tossed every time he so much as closed his eyes… was silent and still.
His breath was calm, there were no flickers of pain in his brow, and he hadn't even uttered obscenities toward invisible threats in his sleep.
She turned her head slightly on the pillow and found him beside her, close, but not touching, with one arm tucked beneath his head. His now-clean white hair spread like a veil across the shared space between them.
She didn't dare move… she didn't want to wake him if he was finally at peace. But, as if her stillness was the thing to disturb him, his eyes cracked open a moment later.
Golden and sharp, but not unkind. He blinked a few times, then focused on her.
"…You're still here," he said quietly. "You're real, right?"
Solenne nodded slowly, and then there was a pause. She searched his divinely sculpted face for a moment before touching his cheek.
She mouthed the words slowly and emphatically, 'I am real.'
Ruvan lifted his large hand and rested it on top of hers, then shamelessly pressed his face into her palm. "I'm glad."
Solenne was surprised by his moment of vulnerability and intimacy—she didn't think he would continue being so transparent with her.
"I slept," he said, voice raw from disuse. "All the way through."
She offered a small smile. 'He needed it. He's even more handsome when he is well-rested.'
He rubbed at his face and sat up slowly, the blanket slipping low around his waist. He was shirtless, and she wore a loose, thin nightgown.
He glanced at her, eyes narrowing as he sniffed. "Do I still smell like yours after a full night's rest?"
Solenne's face heated immediately, having forgotten she was so straightforward the night before. She buried her face in her hands to hide the warmth rising to her cheeks.
He blinked at her, then grinned—actually grinned, teeth flashing, amused. She was momentarily stunned at the sight… he was breathtaking when he smiled.
Then, a knock came at the door, interrupting their brief moment of peace.
Ruvan was already on his feet before Solenne could sit up, but he didn't open the door immediately. "Who is it?" he called, voice flat.
"Thalos."
Solenne tensed. She knew Thalos was aware she and Ruvan were 'mates,' but that didn't make it any less embarrassing to be seen in a man's bed only a week after meeting him!
When Ruvan opened the door, it revealed his cousin dressed in full armor, as usual. Solenne wondered if he ever got too hot wandering around wearing a metal suit of armor all day indoors.
Thalos stood tall, as composed as ever, but his jaw was set. His eyes flicked past Ruvan's shoulder for only a breath—enough to register that Solenne was inside.
He didn't comment.
"There's been movement in the lower levels," Thalos said quietly. "Something… stirred."
Ruvan's gaze sharpened. "What kind of something?"
"Some of the old wards flickered. It was only for a moment, but long enough that the watchers noticed," Thalos reported dutifully.
A beat passed between them.
"You think something else woke up?" Ruvan asked. "I could sense trouble as soon as I woke up."
Thalos didn't answer directly, he only nodded once and said curtly, "Prepare yourself. We'll need to descend immediately."
With that, he turned and vanished back down the hall.
—
After getting dressed, Ruvan and Solene quickly made their way to the mouth of a grand stairwell that led to the lower floors. Thalos waited for them at the top of the steps, leaning casually against the wall.
"Took you long enough. Are you ready?" the general asked.
Ruvan's expression was cold and serious. "Let's go."
"We can't go down further than the first level of the basement. It's unstable." Thalos explained as he led them down the stairs. "But, we still might find useful information if we look hard enough."
So, they descended to basement level one, one of the Citadel's oldest wings, searching for answers—artifacts, records, anything to explain the shifting power in the fortress.
"It's a large wing, let's spread out a bit," Ruvan said. "Stay within eyesight of one another, for now. We aren't looking for anything in particular, but let us know if something sticks out to you. You seem sensitive to mana, so you might run onto something."
Solenne nodded, and the three separated. For what felt like hours, they searched and found nothing. She skimmed a few books, but most were written in languages she didn't understand. Nothing felt particularly mana-rich, so she didn't see anything in that regard either.
Ruvan stood near the north wall, studying a fractured altar mural, his fingers tracing faded runes like ghosts etched in stone.
Thalos examined a shattered ceremonial blade displayed on a cracked plinth.
Solenne tiptoed beside some shelves and bookcases on another wall. Her fingers brushed over rotting scrolls, dulled metal… and then she laid eyes on a small wooden box tucked deep into the shadows, covered in dust.
Curiosity moved her hands, and before she could think otherwise, she grabbed it from the shelf and opened it.
Inside, she found a carved pendant, delicate and worn. It had a fraying leather cord, curled stiff from being neglected for so long… and then came a scent.
Sage… and honey.
The pungent aroma hit her like a blow, and with it came a memory.
⸻
[Flashback – Age Four]
Solenne was small again, barely four years old.
She was barefoot with dirt under her nails, wearing a too-long white dress that brushed the grass when she ran. Her hair was tangled from the wind, her cheeks smudged with ash from the bonfire.
She could smell the honey cakes and hear her mother's laughter, light and free for once. The scene was cast in the dramatic flicker of firelight under a crescent moon.
It was her naming day—a day she couldn't forget, no matter how much she wanted to.
The entire pack had gathered to hear her parents speak her name aloud, and she would he blessed by moonlight, claimed before the pack and the gods.
Her tall and broad-shouldered father held her hand with a warm, calloused grip.
"You're not nervous, are you, little pup?" he whispered, crouching beside her.
She shook her head, though her stomach fluttered.
He smelled like pine sap and warmth. His voice was deep and steady. She loved it when he laughed—it sounded like home.
"When the moonlight touches the stone," he said, brushing a piece of ash from her cheek, "we'll speak your name. And after?" He winked. "Honey cakes."
Solenne grinned. She loved honey cakes.
She loved him more.
"Want to practice something else?" he asked, voice soft. "Just a little word. Just for me?"
It was something he often tried to persuade her into doing. Speaking. Solenne had yet to speak even a syllable, and consistently ignored his begging—but… for her dad, on such a special day, she decided she would do it.
For him.
"Say 'Papa,'" he encouraged. "Just that. I won't tell your mom, I promise."
She tilted her head, looked at him—her favorite person in the world—and opened her mouth for the first time.
"Papa."
The bonfire didn't crackle, it screamed. Its flames turned white, then blue. The wind vanished, and the earth shuddered…
Her father jerked. She watched in horror and confusion as light tore through him from the inside out, veins glowing, eyes wide and gleaming with something not of this world.
His mouth opened, but no sound came.
He met her gaze for one last time, and he smiled. It was the proud smile of a father who had heard his daughter say 'papa' for the first time.
'Good girl,' he mouthed. 'I love you.'
…and then he shattered.
⸻
[Present – Solenne]
The sound the box made when it hit the floor was small, but something inside her broke. She stumbled back, clutching her arms like she could keep herself from falling apart.
Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated, and her breath labored, as she fended off a panic attack.
Ever since that day, she had always been careful. She had learned not just to be silent, but to be soundless.
…But now, with the pendant in her lap, her father's last moment burning behind her eyes, and Ruvan and Thalos watching her unravel… Something slipped.
Fortunately, she didn't speak or scream.
But she still made a sound.
It was a soft, choked sob. The sound was small and raw, barely more than breath—but it was hers, and that was enough.
The air shivered, and suddenly, glowing runes appeared on the walls. The floor beneath her knees cracked, fine fractures spidering out like frost in glass.
She pressed her hand over her mouth, wide-eyed. Tears slipped down her cheeks when she realized what she had done. Even a tiny sob was too much. Panicked, she glanced at Ruvan and Thalos to ensure they were unharmed.
They seemed uninjured, but she still expected them to retreat or recoil. To fear her… but neither of them moved.
⸻
[POV: Ruvan]
"Solenne?" the Alpha said gently, but there was no response. It looked as if she was staring through him.
This time, however, her silence was not absence—it was grief and panic.
Thalos reached her first, kneeling beside her. Ruvan followed, slower, careful, as if the air around her might detonate. He felt as if she might explode at the slightest stimulation.
He watched as Thalos spoke carefully, "What is it?"
Thalos waited patiently for her to reply. It took her a moment to collect herself before her hands moved—hesitant, shaking.
[I spoke once,] she admitted. [I was four.]
He was surprised by her admittance, but could tell she wasn't finished and nodded along. As she signed, he translated what she said to Ruvan out loud.
[He asked me to say something.]
[I said 'Papa.']
The runes in the walls pulsed again as she continued.
[My voice killed him.]
[It kills. I kill.]
Thalos hesitated to say the last words, but he did so anyway.
It hit Ruvan like ice, and Thalos seemed equally shaken.
"You…" Thalos murmured. "You're a cursed speaker."
Cursed speech.
Many had chalked it up to myths, given there were hardly any records of those afflicted with the curse, but those old enough, wise enough, knew that it was very much real.
…It was a punishment only the Moon Goddess could give.
It was a divine sentence, but it wasn't given to just anyone.
Cursed speech was only bestowed upon those who offended the Moon Goddess personally. It was only one step above having one's soul shattered, permanently removed from the cycle of life... but many considered cursed speech a fate worse than spirit-death.
Being in a position where even making a sound could hurt the ones you love.
…And Solenne had carried it alone, for years, in silence, but had never used it to harm anyone—not even when she had reason to.
Even when the people from the pack sacrificed her to the mountain, she remained quiet. She let them brand her and hurt her without a single complaint.
Ruvan's blood boiled as he thought about it, but he tried to maintain his composure. He didn't want to scare her more than she already was. So, taking a deep breath, he stepped close and knelt beside her.
"You haven't spoken," he said, voice hoarse, "because you can't."
Her teary eyes lifted, and she nodded gravely. She signed again, and Thalos relayed her message in a sorrowful tone,
"Because it hurts people."
After that, no one spoke for a long time, because in that moment, they understood that Solenne wasn't just a girl who had been an unfortunate sacrifice, a mute she-wolf without powers…
She was suffering under the weight of a punishment that couldn't possibly have been meant for her, meant for a child of four years old.
The silence she wore wasn't a physical ailment…
It was mercy.