The Human Among Wolves Chapter 85

Aurora

For a while, we walked in an unsettling kind of silence—the kind that made you too aware of every sound that wasn’t there. No crickets. No rustling. Not even the whisper of wind through leaves. Just the crunch of our footsteps and the faint beam of Kael’s flashlight cutting through the mist.

I kept glancing around, half-expecting something to move just out of sight. My nerves were stretched so tight I could practically hear my heartbeat echoing in my ears.

Every few seconds, I opened my mouth to say something—to ask how much farther, to fill the suffocating quiet with anything—but the words never quite made it out. Kael looked too focused, his jaw set, his eyes scanning the dark like he knew exactly where he was going. I didn’t want to break that concentration, didn’t want to make him admit he might not know either.

Then, just as I was about to finally ask, “Are we even close?” something flickered in the distance.

At first, I thought it was a trick of the light—the fog playing with my eyes—but then it came again. A soft, golden glow cutting through the darkness.

“Kael,” I whispered, tugging lightly at his hand.

He followed my gaze, and for a moment, his expression shifted—relief, maybe. Or recognition.

Up ahead, the faint glimmer of lanterns lined the forest floor. They were spaced evenly apart, small glass orbs glowing with a steady, unnatural light—not fire, not really. More like something alive. The lanterns formed a narrow path that curved deeper into the woods, winding toward something barely visible between the trees.

A cabin.

Old, wooden, and half-hidden beneath a canopy of twisting branches. Smoke curled faintly from the crooked chimney, glowing faintly in the lantern light. The windows were dark, and the door stood just slightly ajar, as if it had been expecting us.

I swallowed hard. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

Kael didn’t answer right away. He just stared for a moment, his face unreadable in the golden light. Then he nodded once, slow and certain.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’s her place.”

We moved closer to the cabin, the lantern light growing dimmer the nearer we got, as if it didn’t dare come too close.

When we finally reached the porch, I hesitated. The cabin looked even older up close. The walls were made of dark, weathered wood, carved with symbols I didn’t recognize.

I reached out, hand trembling slightly, ready to push open the door—

But before I could touch it, Kael’s hand shot out and wrapped around my wrist.

I turned to him, startled. His expression was serious, eyes darker than usual, his voice dropping low enough that I had to lean in to hear him.

“Her name is Seraphina,” he said, almost like he was warning me. “She doesn’t like people. At all.”

I blinked at him, trying to steady my breathing. “Okay… good to know,” I said quietly.

He didn’t let go. “And if she tells you she wants to talk to you alone,” he continued, his grip tightening just a little, “don’t. You understand me?”

I frowned, confused by the sudden edge in his tone. “Why?”

Kael’s gaze held mine, unblinking. “Because I’m not leaving you alone with her.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

He finally let go of my wrist, but his hand lingered for a second longer than it needed to. I swallowed, turned back toward the door, and reached for it again. The wood was cold under my palm, almost too cold. When I pushed, the hinges groaned loudly, the sound echoing into the dark interior.

Before I could take another step, Kael’s hand caught mine again—gentler this time. I looked up at him, and he leaned in close enough that I could feel his breath brush against my cheek.

“And one more thing,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t stare at her face.”

My chest tightened. “What?” I whispered back.

He didn’t answer. He just gave me that look—the one that said trust me, just this once.

And before I could ask again, he nodded toward the open door and the faint flicker of light inside, and said softly, “After you, Princess.”

I stepped inside the cabin, and the warmth hit me instantly—thick and heavy, like walking into the breath of something alive. The shift from the cold night air to this almost suffocating warmth made my skin prickle.

The moment Kael and I crossed the doorstep, the door behind us slammed shut with a deep, echoing thud. The sound reverberated through the space, sharp and final, like the cabin itself had decided we weren’t leaving anytime soon.

I froze, my heart leaping into my throat, and before I could even think, my hand shot out and grabbed Kael’s. His fingers tightened around mine without hesitation, steady and grounding, though I could feel the tension in him too.

The cabin was dim—almost entirely dark except for the flickering light of a large fire burning in the stone fireplace ahead of us. Shadows moved along the walls, long and restless, dancing across shelves lined with jars and old books and strange, glinting things I couldn’t quite make out.

It smelled of smoke and herbs, something sharp and metallic lingering underneath it all. The air hummed faintly, like a low vibration just below hearing, and the floor creaked under each careful step we took.

Kael moved first, guiding me forward toward the fire, his grip on my hand still firm. I tried to focus on the rhythm of his steps, the solid sound of his boots against the wooden floor, anything to distract from the way my pulse was hammering in my ears.

“Welcome.”

The voice came from somewhere above us—low, rasping. I flinched so hard my shoulder brushed Kael’s arm, my gaze snapping upward.

My heart was already hammering, too loud in the silence that followed. The fire crackled, filling the space with that sharp pop of burning wood, but even that sounded distant—like the cabin itself was holding its breath.

“Seraphina,” Kael said finally, his voice calm, almost casual. But I could hear the tightness beneath it, the strain that didn’t match his tone. “Nice seeing you after a long time…”

If I hadn’t been holding his hand, I might have believed him. He almost sounded relaxed—almost. But his palm was damp, his fingers trembling slightly in mine. The small tremor betrayed everything his voice tried to hide.

The sound of footsteps broke through the silence—slow, deliberate. I froze where I stood, my fingers tightening around Kael’s hand before I even realized it. The sound came from the staircase to our right, the one that curved up into darkness.

I turned my head toward it, every creak of the wooden steps echoing through the cabin like the tick of a clock counting down. Then, through the dim light, I saw movement. A figure descending, step by step.

Seraphina.

At first, I couldn’t make out much of her face—the shadows clung to her like a veil, the flicker of firelight chasing her features but never quite catching them. The hem of her long cloak brushed against the stairs, her bare feet silent on the old wood.

And then she stepped closer—close enough for the light to finally reach her.

Her hair was long, silver-gray, falling down her back like strands of ash. Her skin was pale but not delicate, more like stone worn by time. And her eyes—God, her eyes—burned red, not glowing exactly, but deep and endless.

But it was the scar that caught me. A single, jagged line that curved along her cheek and down her jaw, framing her entire face like some cruel artist’s mark.

Oh. That’s what Kael had meant.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself not to look away. Not to stare. But it was impossible not to. Because there was something about her—something sharp and wrong and magnetic—that made it impossible to look anywhere else.