Chapter 55

Raven

The nearly-full moon was already hanging high in the night sky by the time I slipped out of my room, my modern clothes feeling oddly uncomfortable around my body. The jeans were snug, hugging my legs in a way that felt unexpectedly restricting, and the black sweater was soft but a little too thin for the biting chill of the night air.

“Goddess, have I really been here long enough to forget how to wear modern clothes?” I hissed, tugging uncomfortably at my jeans as I quickly stole through the dark castle.

Stepping out into the night air, I navigated toward the rendezvous point Neil had written about in his note. Midnight. The southern gate. Do not be seen.

The southern gate came into view faster than I expected, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows across the path. As I approached, I spotted Neil and the three guards already waiting, their dark figures huddled together near the edge of the gate.

My footsteps slowed as I took them in, the tension in my chest easing just a little.

And then I saw what they were wearing.

Modern clothes. Jeans, jackets, sneakers—well, mostly. Neil, of course, couldn’t seem to bear to part with his signature fur cloak. The black pelt looked hilariously out of place against the otherwise mundane outfits of the Werewolf world.

It was a sight I wasn’t entirely prepared for, and a laugh bubbled up inside of me before I could stop it.

“Something funny?” Neil asked dryly, folding his arms across his chest. The hoodie he wore beneath his cloak looked comically tight over his large biceps.

I stifled my laughter behind my hand and shook my head. “No, no. You all look… great.”

“Liar,” Ember muttered, crossing her arms. She looked good in her black leather jacket and jeans, her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, but her scowl revealed just how miserable she was.

Eric, meanwhile, wore a matching track suit and a clean pair of white sneakers. Castor’s large body was stuffed into a pair of dad jeans and a denim jacket, a graphic tee underneath. He looked the most comfortable out of all of us, even me.

“It’s the cloak, isn’t it?” Eric said, smirking as he nudged Neil with an elbow. “Can’t leave it behind, can you, Your Highness?”

Neil’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Castor, on the other hand, burst out laughing. “He would probably bring it to the grave with him if he could.”

Ember wrinkled her nose. “Tell me about it. The damn cloak reeks, Neil. You have to take it off to at least wash it sometimes.”

Neil looked wounded. “It’s clean.”

“It’s fine,” I said quickly. “The cloak is fine. No one will care in the Werewolf world. They’ll just think you’re… eccentric.”

Neil’s eyebrow arched, but the corner of his mouth twitched, betraying the faintest hint of amusement. “Eccentric,” he repeated flatly.

“It’s a good look,” I said, tugging my sweater tighter around me. “Very ‘brooding prince of the north.’ I’m sure it’ll be all the rage.”

Castor let out a loud guffaw, and even Ember cracked a small smile. Neil just shook his head and motioned toward the small rowboat waiting near the edge of the water. “Let’s go. We do not have all night.”

The boat rocked gently as we climbed in. I shivered as I settled into the narrow bench, pulling my knees close to my chest in an attempt to stay warm. The oars creaked as Eric and Castor rowed, the rhythmic splash of water against the boat filling the otherwise silent night.

I hadn’t realized just how cold it was until Neil moved beside me, his towering figure blocking the wind. Without a word, he reached up and unfastened his fur cloak, draping it over my shoulders. The weight and warmth of it were immediate, and I couldn’t help but bury myself in it, inhaling the faint, familiar scent of him.

As I nuzzled down into the cloak, I glanced up at him. His face was impassive, his jaw set hard as he gazed out over the water. He didn’t look at me, but I did feel eyes on me, and I looked over to see Ember staring.

She said nothing, although I did see her gaze soften a little before she looked away. Did she still have feelings for him, I wondered? Neither of us had talked about it since the last time.

The journey across the water was quiet after that. It wasn’t until we reached the far side and the boat scraped against the rocky shore that anyone spoke again.

“Welcome to the Werewolf continent,” I said softly.

As we stepped onto the shore, I couldn’t help but glance around at the familiar landscape. The city loomed in the distance, its lights twinkling like stars against the dark sky. My heart twisted at the sight. It was a lot closer than I thought it was.

“This way,” I said, leading the group toward the city.

By the time we arrived at the city—hopping on a bus, much to the Lycans’ amazement and dismay—the sun was already well over the horizon. I didn’t have a watch on me, but I guessed it was nearly noon. I didn’t realize just how long we had been traveling for.

“There’s this little food stand on the corner of Blackwood Street—best fried dumplings you’ll ever have,” I explained as we got off the bus at the city center. “Oh, and the market square! I used to love going there on weekends. They sell these candied walnuts that are absolutely amazing...”

Castor’s eyes lit up at the mention of food, but Ember and Eric exchanged wary glances, their hands resting on the hilts of their concealed weapons. Neil, as always, remained silent, his gaze fixed ahead.

But as we entered the city, the noise hit me like a wall.

Voices, engines, music—it was all so loud, so overwhelming. The streets were crowded, the sidewalks bustling with life. I had grown up in this chaos, had thrived in it. But now, after weeks of the quiet, regimented life in the Lycan world, it felt…

Suffocating.

My steps faltered, and without thinking, I gravitated toward Neil. His presence was grounding, and I found myself walking closer to him until our shoulders brushed.

To my surprise, Neil reached down and wrapped his hand around mine. His grip was firm but not harsh, his calloused fingers warm against my own. He didn’t look at me, didn’t say anything, but the gesture spoke was enough to set me at ease.

My heart stuttered as I glanced up at him. His face was still impassive, his eyes scanning the crowd with a soldier’s vigilance. But his hand stayed in mine, holding me close as we navigated the bustling streets.

The others walked slightly ahead, their eyes darting around as they took in the city. Castor looked like an excited child, while Ember and Eric remained tense, their postures rigid. I couldn’t blame them. The Werewolf world was nothing like the Lycan kingdom. They didn’t belong here.

And now, it seemed, neither did I.

This didn’t feel like home anymore. It felt… wrong.

We wove through the streets in silence, heading straight for the hospital. Soon enough, it came into view.

I stopped at the edge of the street, staring up at it, my chest tightening. My father was in there. The man who had raised me, protected me, loved me. The man I might be too late to save.

Or maybe I couldn’t save him at all.