—--

By the following morning, the courtyard bustled with a quiet but palpable urgency as preparations for the journey to Mariana were well underway.

Horses shifted restlessly, their hooves clinking against stone, nostrils flaring as their breath curled into the cold like silver wraith. Their unease mirrored the tension coiling through the people around them.

Leather bags were cinched tight and loaded onto carriages, alongside wooden crates, marked with seals and inked with symbols. They were all supplies meticulously gathered for the long voyage ahead. Guards checked and rechecked their weapon, their brows furrowing with the weight of what truly laid ahead.

Esme stood quietly at the threshold of the manor, warmfully cloaked in thick wolf pelt and winter-stiffened leather. The wind lifted her hair into soft, floating strands, though she hardly noticed.

Her gaze was fixed on the jagged silhouette of the mountains in the distance, her eyes drawn upward as though searching for answers. The memory of the wolf in the mirror resurfaced in her mind, and remembering the last word it uttered brought an inexplicable chill she failed to comprehend. She ended up breaking the mirror due to her own frustration, but she couldn't believe that her wolf, or at least, the wolf residing in her was able to attack her from a mere mirror. If she couldn't be connected to her wolf, then why was it inside of her?

Esme was so deep in her own thoughts that she failed to sense Althea approaching from behind. The young woman reached out and gave Esme's shoulder a light nudge, breaking her reverie.

"Are you alright?" She asked, her tone light but sincere. "You seem a little… lost. Oh– wait, this is also your first time crossing the sea, isn't it? To be honest, I'm equally a mess inside. But it's normal to feel anxious when you're about to do something unfamiliar. The best we can right now is to keep telling ourselves we'll sail smooth and steady, right? I'm jealous of Neville at this point, he's in the Damned enjoying himself and making remedies while we're out here fighting against all kinds of odds to stay alive."

Esme offered a faint smile at Althea's attempt to ease her nerves, though her unease had little to do with ships or sea crossings– or whatever Althea was busy talking about.

"Did you notice today?" Althea suddenly added in a whisper. "The training ground appeared to be half-burnt. I'm sure one of the guards wandered in there last night and trashed the place up."

"Did they?" Esme let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of her head. She had also forgotten the mayhem she brought upon the training ground last night in her attempt to control her new abilities. She'd tell everyone once they were on the ship about it.

A shout then echoed from below.

"Tide's coming in fast! If we don't launch before the second bell, the wind'll turn against us."

"Has anyone seen the Alpha this morning?" Leonardo strode over to Althea and Esme, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "I was sure he'd be out here directing everyone instead of Lothario. Don't tell me he's still passed out from last night's drink."

"You two go ahead," Esme said, drawing her cloak tighter around her. "I'll find Donovan. He's been more than successful in pulling all of this together– he won't let it fall apart now. Maybe he's still getting ready. Join the others, we'll be right behind you."

Esme slipped back inside the manor, leaving behind Althea and Leonardo who lingered for a moment, exchanging a silent look in the quiet that followed her departure.

"Have you heard anything from your other family lately?" Althea asked gently as they stepped over the threshold side by side. Her voice was low and tentative. "It's been a while since you've seen them, hasn't it? I imagine you miss them."

Leonardo let his gaze drop to the ground, and he tried to appear not too bothered. "I write to them," he murmured. "Every chance I get. I want them to come stay here in the North, since it's much safer for them to be in, but they never do. They're… infuriatingly stubborn most of the time."

Althea's expression softened as she considered his words. "Hey, maybe they're doing alright," she said after a moment. "Maybe they're just set in their ways which is fine. I heard old people like to do that a lot once they've reached the age. You shouldn't carry the weight alone."

Then, her eyes brightened as her attention shifted. "Wait— oh! Isn't that Cora?"

Across the courtyard, Cora strolled through the gate, greeting the stationed guards with a cheerful wave while handing out a small wrapped up box to each one of them. Her presence radiated ease, and she felt completely at home. Althea lit up with a wide grin, and Leonardo couldn't help but wonder why everyone liked that talkative woman a lot.

"I guess I made it just in time," Cora announced, approaching with a small box in each hand. She handed one to Althea with a sunny smile. "For you, take it as an offering. I brought homemade cookies– plenty to go around."

Althea happily accepted the gift with a grateful murmur. "You didn't have to, really…"

"Where's the Luna and the Alpha?" She asked, whilst ignoring the pointed stare that was aimed at her by a certain someone. "I had theirs wrapped nice and special. I can't find them anywhere– where are they?"

Without warning, Leonardo grabbed her wrist, gaining her attention. "Come with me," he said curtly, tugging her away before she could even protest.

Althea blinked as she watched the two disappear down the path, left standing with the box of cookies in her hand.

—--

Meanwhile, Donovan had gotten ready a while ago, but it had taken him some effort. He was strolling through the hallway with a blank look, his eyes distant and unfocused.

Thoughts from last night flooded his mind, and the vision had come without warning. It was terrifying, vivid and all-consuming. He had seen too much. And he knew exactly who had forced him to see it.

He'd broken free of the spell the only way he could—by ripping his hand away from hers. The moment their contact severed, the images vanished. But what lingered was the expression on the young girl's face. Tears had welled in her eyes, but it wasn't sorrow that defined her—it was something heavier. Guilt, yes, but overshadowed by the crushing weight of duty etched into her every word.

"I'm sorry, but if you truly want it all to end," she had whispered, her voice soft but unwavering, "then let what you saw come to pass."

It had taken him a moment to catch his breath, to calm the tremble in his hands. The images were still fresh, burned into his memory like brands. And when he finally found his voice, the question had escaped before he could stop it.

"What are you?"

She had turned away from him then, her small frame walking back toward the window only to halt at the edges.

"I can't tell you that. Not yet," she replied quietly. "But from this point forward, we'll need to work together. Only once the task is complete will you be free—truly free—from all of this."

"Free my foot," Donovan muttered as he pushed the memories aside, annoyance clouding his features. Why should he believe some nonsense vision from a little girl anyway? He will do things his own way, and everything will turn out fine.