Daylight made Fenward look like it was pretending.
The same streets that felt like a throat at night were busy now—vendors calling, doors propped open, kids weaving between legs, noise bouncing off old wood and stone. Even the inn looked different in the sun. Less like a trap. More like a place that could almost be normal.
Almost.
Derpy kept his shoulders tight as they walked.
He’d pulled his hoodie back on before they left the room. Not for warmth. For cover. The fabric sat wrong across his back, tugging where the new joints pressed under his skin.
Lewd stayed close, half-hidden behind him, tail curled like a question mark. Riven drifted near the back, staring at everything with that quiet, hungry curiosity. Vespera’s rings were still, but her posture wasn’t. Lenora led them like she expected the day to turn on them anyway.
When they pushed through the inn doors, the noise hit first.
Talking.
Clinking cups.
A fiddle somewhere.
Then the room went… strange.
Not silent.
Just… aware.
Because in the center of it all stood a giant pink wolf.
She wasn’t just tall.
She was towering—broad shoulders, thick fur the color of sunset cotton, scars hidden under fluff, and eyes sharp enough to peel lies off bone.
Vemi stood in front of her, pinned in place by nothing but presence.
Vemi looked smaller than Derpy remembered.
And she looked guilty.
The pink wolf leaned down, muzzle inches from her sister’s face.
“You left,” she snarled, voice low and rough. “You left your post. You let strangers wreck the inn, and you didn’t even stay to clean it.”
Vemi’s ears flattened.
“I didn’t—”
“You didn’t what?” the wolf snapped. “You didn’t think? You didn’t care? You didn’t realize what that invites?”
Derpy swallowed.
Mia—still in her smaller form—waddled forward like she owned the place.
She rubbed her side against the wolf’s leg.
The pink wolf’s body went rigid.
Her gaze dropped to the contact like it offended her.
“Whose mutt is this?”
Derpy stepped forward before Lenora could.
“She’s mine,” he said.
The wolf’s gaze slid to him.
She sniffed.
Once.
Twice.
Then her whole posture recoiled.
“You reek of human,” she said, voice loud enough for the room to hear. “But you also reek of dragon.”
Derpy’s face heated.
“Sorry,” he muttered, instinctively reaching for Mia.
The wolf didn’t give him the chance.
She scooped Mia up one-handed like she weighed nothing and shoved her into Derpy’s chest.
“Keep your animal off me.”
She turned like she was done with all of them.
Then Riven spoke.
Soft. Casual. Terrifying.
“Are we staying here tonight?” Riven asked. “I don’t want the wolves’ people to assault us again.”
She tilted her head.
“I might eat them.”
Several patrons choked.
A chair scraped.
The pink wolf stopped mid-step.
Slowly, she turned back.
Her eyes moved from Riven… to Derpy… to Lenora… to Vespera.
Then to the inn itself—scuffed floor, patched wall, the faint smell of smoke that never fully left.
“You,” she said.
Not a question.
“You’re the ones who left my sister’s inn a mess.”
Derpy opened his mouth.
Lenora and Vespera spoke first.
“It was an accident,” Lenora said, voice firm.
“We didn’t come here to cause trouble,” Vespera added, calm but edged. “We were attacked.”
The pink wolf’s ears twitched.
A sharp breath cut through her words.
“You’re all the same,” she said. “People come into this town, wreck things up, then leave like it’s not their problem.”
Something in Derpy’s chest snapped.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just… hot.
A spark that had been waiting for a reason.
“We didn’t choose any of this!” Derpy shouted.
The room flinched.
Lewd squeaked and grabbed his sleeve.
Riven’s eyes widened like she’d just learned a new color.
The pink wolf stepped closer.
Her shadow swallowed him.
Teeth showed.
Claws slid out with a scrape.
“Watch your mouth, human,” she growled.
Derpy didn’t back up.
He should have.
But the fire in him didn’t care.
And then it happened.
A sinister aura rolled off him like a wave.
Not visible—until it was.
The air darkened.
The light felt thinner.
Every instinct in the inn screamed predator.
Patrons recoiled.
Faces drained.
Someone dropped a cup and it shattered like a gunshot.
Fear spread through the room in a heartbeat.
Everyone… except the pink wolf.
Vambasta stared at Derpy like she’d finally found something worth testing.
Vespera leaned close to Lenora, voice barely a breath.
“We need to talk.”
Lenora’s jaw tightened.
She didn’t take her eyes off Derpy.
But she nodded.
Outside, the day felt too bright.
Too normal.
Vespera kept her voice low.
“I went into his mind,” she said.
Lenora’s eyes flicked to her.
“You what?”
“I needed to know if he was still himself,” Vespera replied, controlled. “If the calamity was… rewriting him.”
Lenora’s expression hardened.
“And?”
Vespera hesitated.
“Something is changing,” she said carefully. “There are… places in him that don’t feel like him. Power that doesn’t feel like the boy.”
She didn’t mention the presence.
The weight.
The thing that watched her from behind Derpy’s thoughts like a god behind a curtain.
She swallowed it.
“We need to keep a watchful eye,” Vespera finished.
Lenora exhaled through her nose.
“Yeah,” she said. “No kidding.”
They went back inside.
And the inn had shifted.
Like it had decided it didn’t want them anymore.
Vambasta moved.
Fast.
Before anyone could stop her, she grabbed Derpy by the front of his hoodie and hauled him up like a rag doll.
Derpy’s feet left the floor.
Lewd screamed.
Lenora lunged.
Vespera’s rings flared.
But Vambasta was already moving.
She threw him.
Not across the room.
Out the door.
Derpy hit the ground outside hard enough to knock the breath out of him.
Then Vambasta stepped into the doorway and let out a howl.
It wasn’t just loud.
It was a command.
The sound rolled through the town like thunder.
Windows rattled.
Dogs barked.
Somewhere in the distance, other howls answered.
Vambasta looked down at Derpy.
All teeth.
All certainty.
“Most humans would die from that,” she said. “But you didn’t.”
Derpy pushed himself up, coughing.
His wings twitched under his hoodie.
His tail curled tight.
Vambasta lifted her chin.
“You’re going to be the pack’s hunt tonight.”
She howled again.
The town answered.
Then she pointed one claw at his chest.
“If you can outlast me and my pack for twenty minutes tonight,” she said, “I’ll forgive you.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“But if you can hunt me,” she added, voice dropping, “and best me in combat…”
A pause.
A promise.
“I’ll give you a reward.”
Derpy stared at her.
The inn behind her felt like a mouth.
The street around him felt like a ring.
And the day—bright, lively, normal—suddenly felt like it was holding its breath.