Chapter 237: RAKU!

Swanly looked at him.

“You are outside.”

“Details.”

“Very important details.”

“We can shout our courtship across the wall.”

“I will throw rocks.”

“I’ll keep them.”

“You are unbearable.”

“And yet you keep coming back.”

“This is my settlement.”

“Convenient excuse.”

She rolled her eyes.

But when she walked away, she knew he had seen her fear.

And more importantly?

He had tried to make her laugh after noticing it.

She hated that she noticed that too.

The next panic began in the food storage.

A male collapsed between two grain baskets.

His forehead struck the stone floor.

Blood splashed.

A woman screamed.

Within seconds, people were running.

“He ate from there!”

“What?”

“He was fine this morning!”

“Don’t touch the food!”

“Move!”

Someone kicked over a basket.

Grain spilled.

A child started crying.

The sick male’s mate shoved through the crowd.

“No!”

Nahla grabbed her.

“Stay back!”

“He isn’t infected!”

“How do you know?”

The woman froze.

That hesitation told Swanly everything.

“You knew.”

The mate’s face went pale.

“No.”

“You knew he was sick.”

“No.”

Swanly stepped closer.

“You hid it.”

The female began crying.

“He didn’t want to be moved away from me.”

The crowd exploded.

“You let him into the food store?”

“My children ate from that store!”

“Is the food contaminated?”

“Move away!”

A male grabbed a basket and tried throwing it outside.

Raku caught it in one enormous clawed hand.

His crocodile tail slammed the dirt.

THUD.

Everyone stopped.

“Put it down,” he growled.

The male released it.

Swanly whispered:

“System.”

Scan.

Grain.

Dried meat.

Fruit.

Bowls.

Storage water.

Nothing.

Safe.

She did it again.

Safe.

Soren arrived.

Swanly went directly to him.

“The food is not showing anything.”

He looked at her.

“You’re sure?”

“As sure as my magic can be.”

Soren turned.

“Seal the storage until Nahla finishes checking.”

Raku nodded.

“No one removes food.”

A man shouted:

“But if it is safe…”

Swanly stepped forward.

“Listen.”

People turned.

Her tail was stiff behind her.

Her ears upright.

“We do not know everything.”

Silence.

She did not pretend.

That mattered.

“We know the Fever is connected to the ground. We know elevated sleeping reduces symptoms. We know the food is not showing Rot contamination.”

Someone called:

“Then why did he collapse?”

“Because he was already sick.”

The male’s mate sobbed.

Swanly looked at the crowd.

“What I don’t know is whether the Fever can affect stored food in another way. So we check.”

People shifted.

Swanly continued.

“No guessing. No throwing away half our winter food because you’re scared.”

A female whispered:

“Are we safe?”

Swanly looked at her.

“I don’t know.”

Fear moved through the crowd.

Swanly lifted her chin.

“But I will tell you when I know. And if I don’t know, I’ll tell you that too.”

That quieted them.

Not comfort.

Trust.

Different thing.

Across the boundary, Veyra had already begun whispering to Vida’s mate.

Never openly.

Never saying:

Break the boundary.

No.

She was smarter than that.

She caught him while he stood near the western edge watching the Veskari healer prepare medicine.

“Your child worsens every night.”

He looked at her.

“What do you want?”

Veyra’s wings folded.

“Nothing.”

“Then leave.”

“I could.”

She glanced toward Ironwood.

“Or I could tell you why the healer cannot do more from here.”

His jaw tightened.

“She helped.”

“A fraction.”

“What are you saying?”

Veyra stepped closer to the line.

“Some treatments require touch.”

He stared.

“You know Soren will not let you in.”

“Not us.”

Veyra’s voice softened.

“One healer.”

His eyes changed.

“No.”

“I didn’t ask you to open anything.”

“I can’t.”

Veyra’s expression barely moved.

That interested her.

“You cannot?”

“I don’t think I can…”

He stopped.

Veyra waited.

The male realized he had said too much.

He turned away.

Veyra called softly:

“What if the boundary does not need to be opened?”

He stopped.

Her mouth curved.

“What if it only needs to become confused?”

He slowly looked back.

That night, Brea saw them.

She knew.

Not everything.

Enough.

Vida’s mate left his shelter after everyone slept.

He carried no weapon.

Only a stone tool.

His hands shook so badly he nearly dropped it.

He whispered his child’s name once.

Then walked toward the northwest drainage foundation.

Veyra waited outside.

Far away.

Hidden by dark brush and folded wings.

Brea watched from beneath guard.

Her stomach twisted.

The male crouched beside an old blood-marked anchor stone.

He scraped away packed earth.

Stopped.

Listened.

Nothing.

Then worked again.

Stone against stone.

Soft.

Careful.

He loosened one foundation wedge.

Only one.

Sweat poured down his face.

“Come on.”

Outside, Veyra watched.

The boundary shimmered.

For one heartbeat.

Her eyes widened.

It responded.

The male froze.

Veyra leaned forward.

The shimmer deepened.

The old anchor stone shifted.

A soft pulse went through the territorial line.

Veyra smiled.

Brea’s blood went cold.

It worked.

It fucking worked.

Or at least that was what it looked like.

Vida’s mate stared at his hands.

“I…”

Veyra whispered from beyond the dark:

“Again.”

He reached for the second wedge.

Brea stood.

No.

No, no.

This was not what she had thought.

She had imagined Veyra testing.

Watching.

Maybe finding some trick.

Not this.

Not weakening the wall.

Not a desperate father physically opening the northwest foundation.

Brea looked at the guard.

Opened her mouth.

“Wait…”

The male worked the stone loose.

CRK.

A tiny sound.

Barely anything.

But beneath Ironwood?

Something heard it.

Deep under the drainage trench, earth shifted.

Not the boundary.

Not magic.

Physical earth.

A narrow old passage, packed shut for years, loosened by vibration and pressure from below.

One stone slipped.

Then another.

Veyra’s face lit with triumph.

She thought the seal had yielded.

She stepped toward the boundary.

One wing crossed first.

For half a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Veyra smiled.

Then:

BOOM.

The Blood Boundary struck her.

Hard.

Her entire body flew backward.

She smashed through brush and rolled across the dirt.

Vida’s mate screamed.

Brea stared.

Veyra lay stunned.

Her eyes opened.

“What?”

She pushed herself up.

Blood ran from the corner of her mouth.

“What?”

She looked at the boundary.

Then at the anchor.

“But…”

She stood.

Tried again.

The territorial line hit her before she got within a full step.

WHAM.

Veyra flew backward a second time.

Her wings struck the ground.

One bent painfully.

She stared.

“No.”

Brea’s mouth opened.

Veyra looked at Vida’s mate.

“You…”

He backed away.

“I told you.”

“No.”

She pointed at the stone.

“It reacted.”

Brea whispered from behind the fence:

“Recognition.”

Veyra turned.

Brea’s face had gone white.

“I never said residents could open it.”

Veyra’s expression emptied.

“What?”

Brea swallowed.

“I said the land knows them.”

Veyra’s wings slowly spread.

“I never said they could open it.”

Silence.

Veyra stared at her.

The horror was almost funny.

Almost.

Then another sound came from beneath the loosened drainage foundation.

Scrape.

Vida’s mate froze.

Brea froze.

Veyra froze.

Scrape.

Not magic.

Claws.

Outside Ironwood.

Something moved through the dark.

Vida’s mate backed away.

“What is that?”

Brea looked at the shifted foundation.

Her stomach dropped.

The boundary had never opened.

It had never failed.

Veyra had been wrong.

But the desperate male had physically weakened the oldest drainage wall trying to help her theory.

And something outside had heard the stones move.

Brea spun toward the nearest guard.

This time she screamed.

“RAKU!”

Too late.

Two pale fingers slid through the crack.