Chapter 6 Shadows and Secrets

Elara's

The morning fog clung to Ashvale like a shroud, twisting the crooked streets into something almost unrecognizable. I wrapped my cloak tighter around my shoulders, forcing myself to move with purpose. My body ached from yesterday’s work and last night’s chase, but there was no time to linger in exhaustion.

I told myself I had to think clearly. I had survived, yes, but survival alone wasn’t enough. I needed coin, a roof, food—and, most importantly, awareness. Every shadow could hide someone watching. Every alley could lead to danger.

As I walked through the market square, I noticed it immediately. A flicker of movement, too deliberate to be coincidence. A figure at the edge of the crowd, partially hidden behind a stall, eyes tracking me. My stomach tightened.

Not again.

I forced myself to keep moving, pretending to examine vegetables, pretending the presence didn’t matter. Yet every instinct screamed that I was being observed.

He’s here.

My mind drifted briefly to the man in the shadows—the one who had saved me from the Hunter Guild last night. I had barely seen him after that, just a fleeting silhouette fading into the fog—but I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Who was he? And why did he care?

I shook the questions away and focused on practical matters. I had to earn money today, just as I had last night. Even small tasks, even menial chores—anything to keep a roof over my head. Survival first, curiosity later.

I slipped through narrow lanes, careful to avoid lingering too long in any one place. But no matter how much I tried to blend in, I could feel the eyes again. Closer this time, more deliberate.

From the corner of my vision, I glimpsed him—the man in the shadows. Far enough to remain unseen if I didn’t look directly, yet unmistakable. Watching. Waiting. Silent.

My pulse quickened, a mixture of relief and unease stirring in my chest. I couldn’t approach him, not yet. And I couldn’t ignore him either.

Then I noticed something worse.

A second figure, partially hidden by a stack of barrels, moving with deliberate caution. My stomach sank. Not the man in black—someone else. Someone closer. Someone following.

The Hunter Guild.

My hands tightened around the strap of my satchel. They were closing in, and this time I could no longer pretend I was just a shadow drifting unnoticed.

I quickened my pace, keeping to crowded streets, weaving through vendors and city dwellers, forcing myself to stay calm. Every footstep, every glance over my shoulder reminded me, Ashvale was no longer a city where I could move unseen.

And today, I knew, the real game would begin.

Somewhere in the mist, the man in the shadows watched. Always watching.

I couldn’t stay. Not here. Not in Ashvale. Too many eyes. Too many shadows. The Hunter Guild, the whispers in the alleys, the lurking figure who always seemed to follow… it was too much.

I had to leave.

I moved quickly, hugging the walls, slipping between narrow streets and avoiding anyone who might recognize me. The fog that had cloaked the city in the morning now worked in my favor, hiding me as I made my way toward the outskirts. My heart pounded in my chest with every step, my breath coming in shallow bursts.

Finally, the city gates appeared ahead, silent and imposing. I darted toward them, glancing over my shoulder constantly. Ashvale’s walls had never looked so confining, so threatening.

And then—I collided with someone.

“Oh!” I stumbled back, nearly losing my balance, but then recognition hit.

“Dorian?” Relief flooded me, unbidden, and I let out a shaky breath.

He stepped closer, brow furrowed, eyes scanning me as if measuring my state. “Elara… where are you going?” His voice carried concern, but there was that same calm, unshakable presence I’d noticed before.

I forced a small shrug, trying to appear casual despite the adrenaline still coursing through me. “I… I need to find my luck elsewhere. Another city. Another place to… survive.”

Dorian studied me for a long moment. Something flickered across his face—concern? Curiosity? Perhaps both. Then he gave a slow nod.

“Be careful,” he said softly. “Ashvale can be unforgiving to those who vanish without a trace.”

I swallowed hard, nodding in return, my fingers gripping the strap of my satchel. “I know.”

And without another word, I slipped past him, my steps quickening as the gates of Ashvale slowly receded behind me. I didn’t look back, but in the corner of my mind, I felt the weight of eyes I had never fully understood—and the sense that my journey was only just beginning.

I didn’t tell Dorian the truth.

I wasn’t running toward some random city, searching for coin or luck. I was running toward a place that made my chest tighten with both pain and longing. A place that held everything I had lost—and everything I had loved.

Silverfang Ruins.

The old territory of the Silverfang Pack. My home, once. Or at least… what had been home.

The farther I walked from Ashvale, the quieter the world became. The roads narrowed into dirt paths, the air heavy with the scent of pine and moss. Memories clawed at me with every step—laughter that no longer existed, shadows of faces that had been torn from my life, echoes of a time when the world felt safer.

By the time the ruins appeared through the misty treeline, my breath caught. What remained of Silverfang was barely recognizable. Stone foundations jutted like broken teeth from the overgrown earth. Trees, wild and untamed, had claimed what humans and wolves had abandoned. Burn marks scarred the remnants of homes and meeting halls, a harsh reminder of the war that had taken everything from us.

I paused at the edge, my fingers brushing over a crumbled wall. The silence was deafening, broken only by the whisper of wind through the skeletal branches. It hurt to be here. To see what had been—and to realize how little of it remained.

And yet… a strange comfort came with the pain. This was where I had learned who I was, where I had first felt the warmth of family, and the sting of loss. Even in ruin, it felt like a piece of me had never left.

I stepped further in, careful not to disturb the fragile stones, and sank to the ground beside what had once been the main hall. I closed my eyes, letting the memories wash over me.

For the moment, I didn’t need to run. I didn’t need to hide. I didn’t need to survive. Not yet.

For now, I could just remember.

And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to face whatever tomorrow would bring.

I opened my eyes, letting the memories settle like dust around me. The ruins were silent, but not empty.

A figure stood at the edge of the clearing, partially hidden among the broken stones and overgrown roots. My pulse skipped. I expected nothing—no one should be here—but something about this presence… it made the hairs on my arms rise.

It wasn’t him. Not the man in the shadows who had saved me in Ashvale. And it wasn’t a hunter, or anyone I had ever known.

The aura… it was different. Stronger. Heavier. Like a storm waiting to break. My chest tightened with recognition, the memory of that night—the night of the slaughter—flashing across my mind. The same feeling I had felt then, standing amidst fire, screams, and blood.

I froze, unable to move, my instincts screaming to retreat but my body rooted to the spot. There was something about this presence, something ancient and undeniable, that told me I was being weighed, observed, and understood all at once.

I wanted to call out. To ask who he was, why he was here. But my voice caught in my throat. Fear mingled with a strange, magnetic pull, urging me to stay.

The figure didn’t move forward. Didn’t speak. Yet the air around him shimmered with power I hadn’t felt in years. Power that belonged to the old world—the world I had lost.

And in that moment, I realized: I was not alone in remembering.

Whatever this was, whatever—or whoever—he was, I knew instinctively that my time at Silverfang Ruins had just become far more dangerous… and far more important.