A S H R I E L

The Rift stirs.

I feel it before the girl even breathes its name. A low thrum vibrates under my skin, steady as a heartbeat that does not belong to me. The corridors of Ravenshade shiver with it, stone, iron, and shadows humming as if the entire wing has been tuned to the same note.

Elowen stands too close to the source. I can taste her fear in the air, sharp and bright. She doesn’t see me, not in the shadows between columns, but my gaze never leaves her. Her pulse is a trembling thread against the silence, and my Oath drags me nearer even as I fight it.

The locker groans. Frost laces its edges, delicate at first, then spreading like veins across the metal. I know that mark. I’ve seen it crawl across walls and mirrors before something breaks through.

The growl comes again. Not the scrape of hinges, not the sigh of rust. A predator’s throat. My wings twitch against my back, aching to unfurl, but I hold still. Not yet. If I move too soon, the boy will see. Luke Hart, always at her side, always shielding her as if his mortal frame is enough to stop what waits inside.

Foolish. Brave.

He grabs her wrist, pulling her back, but she does not look away. She is caught, like prey staring into the dark just before the strike.

The number on the locker glitters white, spirals of frost curling outward. A warning sigil, if only she knew how to read it.

The lock clicks.

The sound is sharp, final. My blade aches to be summoned, Riftlight whispering at the edge of my palm. I should step forward. Tear her away. But if I break cover now, every eye will turn.

So I wait, teeth clenched against the hum in my blood.

And pray the door does not open tonight.

The corridors fall silent again long after the crowd scatters. I remain where shadows pool thickest, waiting, listening. The Rift hum has dulled but not gone. That is the danger, it never vanishes, it only sleeps.

And she cannot leave it alone.

Hours past curfew, the iron bells long silent, Elowen slips from the girls’ dormitory. Her scarf catches the faint torchlight, pale threads gleaming like frost as she moves quickly down the stone steps. Not quick enough. She hesitates too often, glancing back over her shoulder as if she knows she isn’t alone.

She is right.

Another set of footsteps trails her, too clumsy to belong to me. Rowan Dey. The quiet one. He lingers in the open, trying to look casual, but his pale eyes catch on every frost spiral. He notices more than he should.

My jaw tightens. Curiosity is dangerous here. Curiosity gets mortals killed.

Elowen doesn’t see him, not yet. She follows some invisible pull toward the courtyard, the mist curling in low sheets over the flagstones. The Rift has its hooks in her, leading her away from safety. Rowan follows because he wants to protect, or maybe because he simply wants her to notice him.

He doesn’t understand what hunts in the dark. He cannot.

The hum under my skin sharpens, warning me what is about to bleed through.

If I let him stay, Rowan Dey will be the first to die tonight.

The courtyard is empty, save for mist and moonlight. The elm tree looms at its center, bark carved with names of fools who believed fate could be bound with a knife and a dare. Tonight, even its branches seem restless, shivering against a sky too still.

She shouldn’t be here.

Elowen pauses beneath the tree, scarf pulled high, breath clouding white. She tilts her head, listening to whispers only she can hear. Her lips part, as if she might answer them.

No.

I move. The fog accepts me, parting with each step until I am close enough to seize her wrist. Her gasp shatters the silence. She spins, eyes wide, pinning me with the same gaze that has followed me since the dining hall.

“You,” she breathes. Not my name, she doesn’t know it yet. Just the word, heavy with suspicion.

“You have no sense of caution.” My voice comes lower than I intend, closer. Her skin is fragile warmth beneath my grip. I should release her but I don’t.

Her chin lifts, stubborn. “Why are you following me?”

“I guard you.” The truth slips out before I can temper it. Oath. Curse.

Her pulse beats frantically beneath my fingers, but she doesn’t pull away. Not immediately. She only stares, confusion and something sharper threading through her fear.

Behind her, Rowan lingers at the courtyard’s edge. He freezes when my gaze finds him, but he doesn’t retreat. Foolish boy. His crush paints him brave, but bravery without power is only a death wish.

Elowen notices him then. Her body tenses. “Rowan?”

He shifts, guilty. “I.. just wanted to make sure you were safe.” His eyes flick toward me, wary. “Didn’t realize you had company.”

Her focus snaps back to me, questions burning at the tip of her tongue.

But the Rift answers before she can.

The hum spikes through my bones. The fog thickens, curling white across the flagstones. Frost spirals bloom at her feet.

And I know what comes.

The hum in my veins sharpens into a blade.

Mist rolls thicker across the courtyard, swallowing stone, cloaking the elm in white. Elowen jerks her hand free from mine, but she doesn’t run. She peers into the fog as if it whispers her name.

It does.

The growl reaches us a heartbeat later, low, guttural, dragging across stone. Not from the dorms, not from the wing she left behind. From here. From now on,

Rowan startles, backing toward the wall. His breath comes quick, too loud in the silence. “What.. what is that?”

He doesn’t know. But I do.

Frost spirals bloom across the ground, each pawprint spreading ice that cracks and hisses over the flagstones. The mist parts are just enough to show a shape moving within it: shoulders too broad for a wolf, fangs crystalline, eyes lit with pale blue hunger. Steam coils from its body, a beast sculpted from winter itself.

A Frost Hound.

The Rift’s hunters.

It prowls in a circle, paws freezing the earth, hackles bristling with shards of ice. When it fixes its gaze on Elowen, her breath shudders, a cloud of frost against the night.

Rowan whispers, “It’s looking at her.”

Of course it is. They all will.

The Hound lunges.

My blade wants to manifest, Riftlight prickling under my skin, but there’s no time. The creature clears the courtyard in a single bound, claws scraping sparks from stone. Elowen stumbles back, frozen, eyes wide as the Hound’s maw opens, rows of ice-forged teeth flashing.

I step between them. Instinct. Oath.

The world narrows to her gasp, my outstretched hand, and the beast’s jaws descending.

The Hound’s jaws slam down.

I thrust my hand forward, catching its muzzle before its fangs could tear into her throat. Ice bites instantly, fusing skin to crystal. Agony spears through me, sharp and raw, but I don’t let go.

Frost races up my arm, blackening veins as the Rift brands its mark deeper into my flesh. My bones feel as though they’re cracking under the weight of winter itself.

Elowen cries out behind me. “Stop.! let it go, you’ll.. ” Her voice fractures, breaking against the night.

But my Oath binds tighter than pain. I cannot move, cannot falter, not while her pulse hammers so near.

The Hound thrashes, claws scraping stone, trying to wrench free. Its breath steams against my chest, frost spiraling wider across the courtyard. Behind us, Rowan presses himself against the wall, eyes wide in terror. He sees too much, the scars, the unnatural strength, but it doesn’t matter.

Only she matters.

I snarl, forcing the beast’s head away from her, even as ice carves lines into my palm, blistering into obsidian scars that will never fade.

Elowen’s hands twitch like she might reach for me, but she doesn’t. Fear chains her. Of me, or the monster, I can’t tell.

The frost spreads higher. My arm stiffens, useless. Still I hold.

If this hand must freeze to keep her alive, so be it.

The Hound wrenches against my grip, frost spirals crawling higher up my arm, searing muscle into stone. Its fangs snap inches from her face, shards of ice scattering into her hair.

“Elowen!” My voice tears out raw, more command than plea. “Run!”

She doesn’t move. Her eyes lock on mine, wide and burning with fear and something deeper I cannot name.

The Hound lunges again, dragging me down to one knee. Ice cracks up my shoulder, sinking its claws into my very marrow.

Then, as if the Rift itself yanks its leash, the beast dissolves. Mist unravels its body, leaving only shards of frost scattered across the stones. The courtyard falls silent, the spirals fading to pale etchings on the ground.

Elowen stares at the space where death had been a heartbeat before. Rowan’s breath rattles against the wall.

I bare my teeth against the pain searing my arm, frost scars burning black into my skin. The fight is not finished, not truly. The Rift never retreats forever.

But tonight, it has left its mark.