Sylvia slowly came to, feeling the soft mattress supporting her, and the warm blanket hugging her. She felt the chill air caressing her cheeks and slowly became aware of the position of her body, sprawled out like a starfish. Pulling her limbs toward herself, she noticed just how wet she was, how wonderfully aroused. Her body was hot and her breathing heavy. She touched her fingers to her lips and smiled a little. She shook her head. Turning onto her side, she wondered. What exactly was the definition of real? This morning was like any other morning after. She could still feel the ghosting memory of Rebecca’s fingers burning across her back. Rubbing her thighs together, she delighted in the soft pleasure climbing up her spine. Eventually, the cold air invading the comfort of her blanket shooed her out of bed, and she hurried to get dressed and go downstairs to the comfort of the fireplace.

When Afi woke, he found that Sylvia had already left for the library. After breakfast, he dragged himself through the snow and down to the main yard. He opened the door to the library and the flame of Sylvia’s candle reeled against the cold air, throwing their shadows wildly across the bookshelves. Brushing the snow off his boots, Afi stepped inside and closed the door, draping the room in a dim morning light once more. Sylvia stood in front of a bookshelf and frowned to herself. Her gaze was unfocused.

“What are you looking for?”, Afi wondered.

Sylvia flopped into her chair and deflated with a deep sigh. “I am not even sure. I started out looking for information on memory charms. Then I started thinking about legends with magical manifestations of the dead. And now I have spent the past hours trying to understand why the Wolves are so adamant about revenge. I have found out that Fristad was never acknowledged by the Crown, while Safeharbour was. That would not be enough reason for their anger, though. Wolves are hardly known for their moral compass. They would not bother hunting bandits just for the sake of it. Gregory UllaBirger, better know as Gramr, was noted down as second in line to inherit the city of Safeharbour. He also used to be a captain of the Safeharbour City Guard. That is all I could find out about him. Thorun, on the other hand, is from Söderborg, a city which burned to the ground. There are hardly any connections there. Yri is her sister, and the only plausible link between the two. She used to be a captive in Lesa, by Isbäcken, which is now under Wolf rule. But them killing a few dozen men should not be enough cause for this much trouble. It makes no sense.” Sylvia looked up. “I am rambling again.”

“Yea, you are”, Afi confirmed. “However, I have asked myself the same questions about a hundred times. Maybe Gramr took the attack on Lesa personally.”

Sylvia shook her head. “Why? Lesa was not even Wolf territory at the time. It only became part of their lands after the fall of the Crown.”

“I am not sure. I just know Yri must have done something to aggravate him. She is known as a traitor. Say what you will about Wolves, but that word is not used lightly. If she had simply escaped, there would be no cause for this label.” Afi shrugged a little. “Maybe they killed someone who was blood to Gramr. I do not know.”

“So you were never told why you were supposed to hunt the sisters?”, Sylvie wondered.

Afi shook his head. “We were told plenty of stories, but I doubt the truth was among them. Not that I ever thought to ask.”

Running a hand through her hair, Sylvia leaned back. “What can you tell me about Gramr? You were related, right?”

“More or less”, Afi grumbled. He took a seat and cleared his throat. “I do not know much about him, but I know that he is a violent man and not particularly receptive to reason. He was a bastard of Birger, but Birger’s wife accepted him and he shared in her name. He was promoted to Captain of the Guard. He had a comfortable life as far as anyone could tell. When the Crown fell, Birger died protecting the city from bandits. His first son Leonel ruled for about two years, until he was murdered in his rooms. Some say Gramr killed his brother, but others claim that he was at a bar that evening. Björn claimed he was with Gramr on that day, that it was impossible for him to have done it. Gramr for one claimed that Thorun was behind it, that she had attacked the city, just as she had attacked Lesa years before.”

“Bullshit”, Sylvia scoffed.

“Obviously”, Afi agreed. “But that is the story he spread, and quite successfully so. That is why many of us were—Well, why so many Wolves are adamant about getting revenge on Thorun, the killer, and her equally terrible traitor sister Yri.

“You must understand that Briger was good to the people of Safeharbour. The name of the city comes from the calm sea between Sev and Severn, just as Lugnvadn is named after the calm waters in the wind shadow of the northern headland, but with Briger in charge, people began saying that the city was called Safeharbour because he had made it safe.

“He helped the city flourish, and made sure no one went hungry. Orphans were often enlisted in the guard, or urged to join the farmers on the fields. Everyone had a roof over their head and food on their plate, even in the toughest of times. There was a sense of community. The pack was something beautiful and wholesome. It was unity and loyalty, each individual doing their part for the whole. Leonel continued that tradition. He was beloved, as is father before him.

“It was only when Gramr took over that the pack became such a violent concept. The brands. The oaths. Briger never demanded anything of the sort. At the time when Gramr spread his stories, we were still living in this memory of Briger, still holding on to the idea of him, and to the idea of the pack. Some still hold onto it to this day, and insist that it is loving, rather than violent. For a long time, so did I.”

A painful longing burrowed itself into Sylvia. Her thoughts wandered to Rebecca again. Mindfully, she distanced herself from the emotion. It was not her own, and she still had plenty of questions. She focused on her curiosity instead. “But you changed your mind when your daughter died?”

Afi turned his head away. “No”, he admitted. “I am ashamed to say, it took a lot longer than that. It was first when we were at a considerable distance from Safeharbour that I began to ask questions. When I saw with my own eyes what this revenge everyone was talking about really looked like, that is when I changed my mind. I still remember the moment it hit me.

“We raided a small village in AudOlafsson’s lands. We killed everyone. Most of them were innocent farmers, who were not even trying to defend themselves. I was tasked with patrolling the woods, to stop anyone from escaping. It was a simple task. If it moves, kill it. Once it was done, we stayed for another two days, scouring the ruins for valuables. A child came walking out of the woods. He was but a little boy, looking for his mother. Fredrik wanted to keep him, raise him as one of ours, but Björn ordered his death. Björn said that he was a spawn, and would only grow up to become a problem. That is when I finally realised the insanity of it all.”

Sylvia could feel the shame and guilt crash in over her. She inhaled sharply.

Afi hid his face in his hands. “For a long time, I justified her death. I not only failed to protect her. I failed to honour her memory.”

Sylvia stroked a hand over his back. “You honour it now.”

Afi nodded a little. He wiped at his eyes and took a measured breath. “I try to.”

She was not sure how, but Sylvia could tell that Afi felt her sharing his sorrow. She leaned in and rested her forehead against his shoulder. She could feel him so clearly then, like he was a part of her, just as she was a part of him. It was not merely a sensation creeping up on her from the outside. For a brief moment, she shared in Afi’s experience, in all its vivid detail. What she found no longer surprised her.

There was unspeakable darkness and guilt, but also resilience and determination, and most importantly, a protective love. It was the love of a father, willing to sacrifice everything for his child. It was so intense, it was suffocating. Failure to protect was not an option. Failure was death. No, worse than death. So much worse. When Sylvia lifted her head, the moment was gone. Afi was staring down at his shoes in shame.

Sylvia knew she had to become stronger. If not for herself, then for Afi. She had to be able to protect him as well. At the very least, she had to be able to protect herself if she was going to avoid Afi sacrificing himself for her. The Wolf threat had not felt quite this poignant since the day she lost her home and family.

“I hate to press you like this, but if Gramr is going to be our rival for the throne, I have to ask. Did you ever see him use magic? Do you think it is true that he is a demon, or possessed, or something along those lines?”

“I am not sure”, Afi shrugged. “I suppose it is possible that he has some connection to a demon. Or maybe he is a mage. I am not sure how this works. I have heard many tales of his magic. I have not seen it for myself, though. At the very least, he knows a thing or two about magic. He created strong oaths to keep us in line.”

Sylvia nodded to herself. “You took an oath to the pack as well, right?”

“Yea. A blood oath”, Afi confirmed.

“And you can feel it? It is genuine?”

Afi nodded in answer.

“How come you can kill Wolves, then?”, Sylvia wondered.

“The pack has changed so much since I took the oath. I spoke the words, but I did not swear to the same idea, the same pack. I swore to protect my pack, my family. Wolves are no longer that. You are.”

“You think oaths depend on our understanding of them?”, Sylvia asked. The thought was intriguing.

“They have to, right? How else would they ever work, not to mention break? It is all intent, is it not? You said that magic is intent”, Afi argued.

“Good point”, Sylvia conceded.

“I have a different question”, Afi began. “You told me that oaths are mutually exclusive. That is how you avoided the pack oath. How come I could swear to you? I already had a blood oath. It did not break until I killed a family member, until I killed Björn.”

“It is a different kind of oath. The pack oath is unnamed. It does not specify the name of an individual. The details are very fuzzy in the book, but there are different kinds of oaths, and only when they are similar enough, will they block each other. So, for example, an oath of marriage and a blood oath are not mutually exclusive, even if both are named.”

“I see.” Afi frowned to himself. “I wonder where the line is.”

“I wish I knew. It is a fascinating topic”, Sylvia agreed. “Either way, in the off chance that Gramr can wield magic, I will have to work harder on my own casting. I will treat my practice the way you soldiers treat yours. I am going to perform daily rigorous exercise.”

“You are not supposed to push yourself too hard”, Afi reminded.

“I know, but if you assist me, I can go for longer.”

“Of course I will help you. Combat training is not before evening. Let us spend the mornings here.”

“Afi. Thank you.” Sylvia hugged him tightly. “I meant what I said. I am certain your daughter would be very proud of you if she could see you now. I know I am.”

Afi placed his hands on Sylvia’s cheeks and kissed her forehead.