Chapter 44. The Broken Howl

The ridge narrowed until it was barely a spine of stone—jagged, ice-glazed, and slick beneath her bare feet. Each step thudded through her bones like a warning, yet she couldn’t turn back. Behind her: nothing. Before her: the wind, the void, the pull. She didn’t know what called her forward anymore—only that stopping felt like death.

The night was split open by moonlight, silver and merciless. It lit every scar on her arms, every uneven breath misting from her mouth. The trees below had thinned into broken spires, half-dead and frostbitten, claws instead of branches. Wind moaned between them like something lost trying to speak.

Her skin prickled beneath the remains of her shirt—torn at the shoulder, bloodstained from a scratch she couldn’t remember getting. The cold bit at her, but she welcomed it. It made her feel. It reminded her that she was still something warm-blooded. Something trying not to forget her own name.

Aria.

She whispered it once. Just to make