Chapter 7 The One In Red

Three days before the summit, the Hollow's mood shifted again.

Not loud.

Not dramatic.

Just... colder.

More measured.

As if the entire pack had begun holding its breath.

Every patrol was doubled.

No one wandered the halls alone anymore.

And everywhere Rhea turned, there were eyes.

Not just watching.

Tracking.

Even her usual shadow - the boy with the scar down his chin, always pretending to check things nearby - had vanished. Too quiet.

Even for Silver Hollow.

---

The message about Crimson Vale echoed in her mind.

She'd never seen one of them before.

No one had.

Not really.

Their territory lay far to the northeast-beyond the Icefen forests and the red rivers that flowed year-round with the minerals of the buried past.

They didn't attend normal councils.

They didn't share bloodlines.

And they didn't forget debts.

---

Rhea was heading back from the weapons yard when she first felt it.

That cold ripple beneath the skin. Like shadow brushing her shoulder.

She turned sharply.

Nothing.

Except...

A figure standing at the edge of the Hollow's main square.

Still.

Tall.

Wrapped in a deep red cloak that fell to the ankles like blood made silk.

A hood covered most of their face.

But she saw the smile.

Not cruel. Not kind.

Just... knowing.

Then they turned and walked away.

Rhea didn't follow.

She didn't need to.

Something about them felt like a chapter of a book she hadn't meant to open-but now couldn't close.

---

That evening, she found Lucien near the war garden.

A quiet space behind the Hollow's keep, where old stone statues stood watch and wolves came to train alone-or think.

He didn't speak when she approached.

She didn't, either.

They stood beneath a twisted tree where black flowers bloomed year-round. A symbol of survival. Of bloodlines that refused to die.

"Someone from Crimson Vale is here," she said softly.

He nodded. "I saw them arrive."

"Why didn't the alarms sound?"

"Because the Alpha let them in."

Rhea stared at him. "Why would he do that?"

Lucien's mouth was tight. "Because the Vale doesn't request things. They appear. And we pretend it was planned."

"Who was it?"

"A herald," he replied. "A cousin of the Alpha. Name's Aeren."

"Did they say why they're here?"

Lucien hesitated. Then: "No."

"But you have a guess."

"Yes."

She waited.

He finally looked at her. "They came because of you."

Her stomach dropped.

"What are you talking about?"

"Crimson Vale doesn't watch strangers, Rhea. They watch bloodlines."

Her voice was quieter now. "Are you saying I'm-?"

"I'm saying I don't know what you are," Lucien said. "But you don't smell like just Ashen Fang. Not completely. And the Vale doesn't watch without reason."

Rhea took a step back.

"I don't know anything about them. About me-"

He reached out suddenly-lightly touching her arm.

Not to stop her.

To ground her.

"You're not in danger from me," he said softly. "I need you to understand that."

She searched his eyes.

And for a second... she believed him.

But belief was a dangerous thing.

So she pulled away.

"Be careful with faith, Lucien," she said. "Especially when you don't know who I really am."

She left him there, alone beneath the war tree.

But her hand still felt the warmth of his touch long after the cold returned.

---

That night, the dreams came again.

Red rivers.

Roots that moved like fingers.

And a voice-low, female, ancient-whispering from the dark:

"You have been hidden long enough."

Rhea woke with a gasp, drenched in sweat.

She stumbled to the mirror.

And for a heartbeat-only a second-she saw her reflection blink a second too late.