Page 88 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

The cave breathes cold air around us while he looks at me. I turn to face him fully and meet his gaze directly. “I’m not leaving you to do this alone. Besides, I’m already here.”

The tension around his mouth eases slightly.

“Thank you,” he says, so quiet I almost miss it.

“Let’s get moving.” I adjust my pack. “The longer we wait, the more time they have to prepare.”

He smiles and steps into the darkness.

I follow.

Darkness takes us immediately. The cold hits first, then the thick mineral smell of deep earth and ancient air that hasn’t seen daylight in lifetimes. But underneath it all, beneath the stone and water, I can smell them.

“This way,” I murmur, leading Garrett deeper into the mountain.

A torch flares to life in Garrett’s hand, painting the walls gold. I could navigate without it if necessary. My eyes have already begun sorting through the dark with ease, but the added light helps Garrett keep pace behind me.

I lead, following the scent trail deeper into the mountain. Garrett stays close behind me, one hand on my shoulder in the narrower passages so he doesn’t lose me in the dark.

The touch is practical and necessary. We need to stay together in this maze of stone, especially once the passages tighten into sharp turns and blind corners, but that doesn’t stop me from noticing the warmth of his hand through my suit. Unwanted memories surface every time his thumb shifts slightly against my shoulder blade. I remember that same hand on my waist, on my skin, stroking us both together.

I grind those thoughts down.

Come on, Wolf. Focus on the trail, on the hunt.

“How much further?” he whispers after what feels like an hour of navigating twisting passages.

I pause, scenting the air carefully. The smell of the Valorians is stronger and fresher here. “They’re deeper in. But we’re close. Maybe another quarter mile.”

“They chose well. This place is a maze,” he mutters.

“It was a Wolven defensive position,” I say quietly, running my hand along the wall.

“Your people built this?”

I trace one of the marks with my fingers. “See these? Tool marks. They carved these tunnels and reinforced them, then made the layout deliberately confusing to trap intruders.”

We continue deeper, passing chambers and sleeping alcoves hollowed into the walls. All of it abandoned now. Ghosts of a people who no longer exist.

I try not to think about it or imagine families living here, children running through these halls, all the warmth and life that must have filled these spaces before whatever happened. Before the same fate that finds all Wolven eventually found them too.

“Wolf,” Garrett says suddenly, stopping. His hand tightens on my shoulder. “Do you hear that?”

I stop and listen. At first there’s nothing unusual. Water drips somewhere deep in the tunnels, wind whistles through stone cracks, and our breathing echoes softly. Then something else reaches me, faint and distant.

Voices carrying through the tunnels.

“They’re ahead,” I murmur. “Close now.”

We extinguish the torch and press it into the damp stone until the last embers die. Darkness swallows us completely.

I don’t need it. My eyes adjust quickly to the absence of light, picking out shapes and contours that Garrett can’t see. I take his hand and lead him forward carefully. The voices grow louder as we move. I can’t make out words yet, just the cadence of conversation. There are more than two people talking.

The passage opens gradually, widening from a narrow corridor into something larger. I can see the flicker of firelight ahead, orange and warm against the endless black. A way out of the cold darkness.

I motion for Garrett to stop. He freezes behind me.

We’re at the entrance to what was probably the main gathering hall of the den. It’s massive with the ceiling lost in shadow high above and the walls stretching out into darkness on either side. This space could have held a hundred Wolven easily. Maybe more.