AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hey there, FF readers. Bit of a shift from the usual author's notes format on this site, but over on AO3 I've been adjusting how I present this fic, and landed on this. As inspired by some of my favorite fics (check out Lady Librarian's stories in my profile), there will be "footnotes" at the end of every chapter to cover behind-the-scenes thoughts and research notes that are probably interesting only to me. As we lead up to the end of this fic, I'll be going back and editing old chapters into this new format. Not sure if that means people will be getting chapter alerts, but just in case: apologies in advance!

Speaking of the end, it's basically here. Offline, Book of the Winds stands at a hefty 25 chapters, with a sequel planned. After much editing I've finally reached a point where the final chapters are in a good place, and a light polishing will take them (hopefully) to great. That means after a few months of an inconsistent update schedule, I can confidently say that the last three chapters will be coming to you in the next update, two weeks from now. One a day, for three days straight.

So, dear readers, are you ready?

The Canary

The Countess D

Toboe rushed after Kiba as he stormed out of the den. "Hey, wait a second! Where are you going?" Kiba answered by increasing his pace, running past the wolves lounging on the slope outside and into the trees.

Tsume caught Toboe by the shoulder, shaking his head. "Let him go."

"But he seems so upset."

"Can you blame him?" Hige said, ducking his head as he emerged from beneath the roots. "If what Hakik said is true, then—" He quieted as Kuri and Cheza stepped out, Hakik between them.

The nearby wolves looked up in surprise at the sight of their leader in human guise, each hand taken by one of the girls flanking him as he emerged from the shadows. Slowly, they helped him settle onto a patch of grass, his bones creaking as he made himself comfortable.

"Thank you, dears." Cheza settled beside Hakik as he looked off in the direction that Kiba had fled. "He's met her, then. The Eastern Wind and the Waxing Moon."

Kuri bowed her head in a grim nod. "He thinks it's my sister."

"Sister?" Hakik leaned forward to take a closer look at her. "How delightful."

"Not exactly," Tsume said. "She left the pack not too long ago."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "A lover's quarrel?"

"Uh," Hige ran a hand through his hair, staring after Kiba. "We're not really sure."

"Why do you say that, though?" Kuri asked. "Is that what they are, according to the legends?"

"Don't know," Hakik chirped, transparently entertained by this turn. He chuckled at their fallen faces. "Much of the story has been lost to time. But I've never seen a boy so affected by passion between friends."

With a bitter laugh, Tsume muttered, "Well, you got that right."

Hakik looked towards the sky. The moon had risen while they talked, lighting their camp through the trees. "You're welcome to stay with us for as long as you need. Rest. Eat. You'll be safe here—we'll make it so."

"You're very generous," Cheza said, folding her legs beneath her as she sat beside him.

"Generous? Selfish, perhaps." In a shimmer of moonlight, Hakik shed his guise, returning to his truth of an old wolf at Cheza's feet. She smiled, lifting her hand to scratch gently behind his ear. "We've spent many ages waiting for you all. It would be a shame for you to go so soon."

Atra hadn't gone to the farm out of some humanitarian urge to release its captives, but she couldn't shake the thought once she'd arrived. There were so many of them, all miserable and raised only for certain death. Even as she finished her own meal, a rabbit still half-eaten at her feet, she was struck by the absurdity of it—keeping so many animals on such a small square of land while the rest of the continent yearned for life.

It was a fool's errand to imagine that any creature could birth the same bounty in the wild. Not in this world, with its capricious seasons and parched land. But Kiba's blind idealism must have affected her after all. She couldn't help but think it was worth a try.

The breeding pair that caught her eye was a little on the nose for her taste—two rabbits, black and white. They mate for life, too, Rafe had said, and Atra berated herself for fixating on something so obvious. But still, she walked to them, watching as they trembled at her approach and surprising all three of them when she reached down and unlatched the cage door.

They stared at her, waiting for the slash of her claws. But Atra only pulled the door wider, hissing, "Run."

As they hopped away, she closed the gate and hoped they made it out. She wondered if she'd ever follow.

The troops had kept Rafe busy, preparing for their mission. Since their first trip to the farm, Atra woke to an empty room. He found her for short stretches of time between his meetings and meals, their interactions always stilted and polite. Otherwise, she was left to her own devices, strolling about and getting to know the town that fed Jaguara's army in hopes of identifying a means of escape.

She'd meet the Lady herself by the end of the day. It would give her something to show the pack for her excursion, if she made it out. If she ever saw them again. If.

The very word exhausted her.

Disposing of her meal, Atra walked towards the barracks, letting her mind wander. Rafe and his troop would be leaving in search of the pack that evening. The question was whether or not he'd renege on the terms of their deal. Whether it would be worth endangering them like this after all. Her throat went tight as she considered the possibilities. Their pack, surrounded by pitch-black knights. Kuri, staring into the barrel of a gun. Kiba, dead at Paradise's gates.

And in the manner of self-soothing, her mind drew up another image—Kiba, sitting with her on that linoleum floor, the ghost of his lips against her hair. He was incandescent that day, laughter rolling from him as easily as she'd ever heard. Even then she'd struggled to understand why he was so giddy. For a couple of kisses? For her?

She'd leaned against his shoulder and teased him, her fingertips tickling the flat of his palm. "You're looking pretty relaxed right now," she'd said. "What happened to it being a Paradise-only thing?

Kiba flashed an embarrassed grin to their hands and carefully interlaced his fingers with hers. It was just a silly joke then when he'd said, "I'm sure you'll find a way to stress me out again soon enough."

Kiba's prey was too still, too resolute, the wood splintering against him and spearing pinpricked wounds into his hands. His hands, human and aching and taunting in their inadequacy. Once upon a time, he would have balked at the idea of appearing human in the company of wolves like these, scoffed at the thought of trying to inflict the damage he craved while still wrapped in this mutable, inexplicable guise. But his skin was itching, hot with the story Hakik had woven for them, and he found that he cared about little else besides throwing his claws once more into the bark.

The wood cracked against him. In the quiet that followed, someone or something stirred in the brush nearby. He growled, blood simmering at the prospect of a real fight. "Who's there?"

Another shuffle among the leaves. A nervous twitter. Before he could take a step further, two forms darted out and away, back towards the pack in a chorus of giggles. Kiba stared after them before letting out a frustrated huff. Pups.

He moved to brace an arm against the tree, letting his head hang as he closed his eyes. Expendable, she'd called herself. It had upset him then, but now he knew just how wrong she was; how utterly misguided.

Since she'd left, he'd had dreams: Atra, gleefully planning her departure; Atra, leaning against Rafe's shoulder on that precious mountain she called Paradise or home, gazing up at the stars; her pretty lips wrapped around the words, "I chose this."

Kiba opened his eyes to look at his palm, rosy and raw. She'd left him. Chosen or not, who was he to demand more than she was willing to give?

When he emerged from the forest the next morning, the pack was waiting for him on the bank of the creek. Cheza turned as he approached, her brow creased as she sensed his wounds. He shoved his hands into his pockets, ducking his head as the others lifted theirs to stare.

After too long a silence, Tsume prodded at him from across the grass. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"What's the plan?"

"The same as it's always been."

Kuri glanced at Tsume as if he held the answers about Paradise or moons or brooding white chosen wolves. When she'd discerned that he was at a loss as she was, she said, "But Atra—"

"Is gone," Kiba finished. He stalked past them to sit at the base of a tree, avoiding their eyes. "Hunting her down again is a waste of time."

"A waste of time?" She echoed, her voice rising.

Toboe looked between them, fingers twitching as he fought the urge to wring his hands. "But if what Hakik said is true, then—"

"We don't know that it is. For all we know, it's just another story."

Tsume frowned. "You really think that?"

Kiba looked to him in surprise. "There are other black wolves," he said, the words stiff. "We'll rest for here for a bit. Then, we'll keep going the way we've always been. If one shows up, we figure it out from there. That's the plan."

Hige frowned, looking cautiously to Kuri as he said, "I guess we can't really be sure if what Hakik said is true."

"Yes, but—"

"But what?" Kiba snapped, the charade shattered as he turned on Kuri with a glare.

"But Atra's the one that called to you, isn't she?" She moved towards him, shouting now. "How else would you have found her? Why else would you hear her howl?"

Kiba took a slow breath as he stared her down. "She doesn't want to be here." He paused at the quiet crack in his voice, briefly shutting his eyes to recompose himself. "If you want to follow her, be my guest."

"I don't get it," Toboe said, watching as Seika swiftly caught yet another fish in her jaws. "How do you do it so quickly?"

Seika threw her catch to Toboe with a toss of her head. He cried out in surprise, taking a step back as Tsume intercepted the throw and caught it with ease. "Years of practice, little one."

"It's probably in your blood," Hige said, watching from the shore. "Most wolves are used to hunting on land, but all those years your pack spent near the water have to count for something, right?"

Seika turned to Hige with a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "It's impressive either way," he clarified. "But after eating fish for so long, I could really go for some meat right now."

"You say that as if you'd put in any effort to hunt for it," Tsume drawled as he stood beside Toboe, his eyes on the water.

"Well, I could," Hige muttered. "Maybe a rabbit, or something…"

They looked to Seika at the sound of a soft chuckle. "The chosen wolf keeps strange company." She stepped away from the water with a brief shake of her fur before asking lightly, "Where is he?"

"He and Kuri stayed back on the island, with Cheza," Toboe explained. "They're kind of… upset."

Seika hummed knowingly. "So I've heard." She watched as Tsume tapped Toboe's shoulder, silently directing his attention to a fish gliding near their feet.

"You can't hesitate," Tsume instructed, "Scoop, then snap."

Toboe gave him a determined nod before turning his eyes to his prey. One moment, he was dipping into the water, scooping as recommended, and in the next, there was an unfamiliar weight to his toothy grin. He turned to Tsume, letting out a bright cry of victory before he could think better of it, and just like that the fish fell from his grip and back into the water.

Tsume promptly covered his face with his palm. As Hige howled with laughter behind them, Toboe groaned. "Oh, shut up! I'd like to see you try!"

"Trust me, I'd be able to do a lot better than that," Hige chuckled, wiping at a corner of his eye. As his laughter ceased, he gave Tsume a snide glance. "Since when were you an expert? You didn't even come close to catching anything last I saw."

Tsume shrugged. "Watched Kuri do it."

"Did you?" Hige studied him for a moment before heaving an exaggerated sigh. "Man, if I had a girl to get into some trouble with…"

"Don't be gross," Toboe scolded.

"I'm not getting into trouble with anyone," Tsume claimed. Ignoring the twist in his gut, he added, "Go at it with Kuri, for all I care."

"Oh yeah?" Hige leered as Tsume turned his back to him, bowing his head to focus on the water. "Lucky for you, she's not really my type. Too complicated."

"The Waxing Moon's sister, correct?" Seika interjected from the shore.

"Kuri's more than Atra's sister," Tsume snapped.

She blinked at him, a curious tilt to her head as she replied, "Of course." She took a seat near Hige. "Sweet girl."

Toboe nodded as Tsume turned back to the shallows. "I guess it probably looks funny for her to be traveling with us, huh?"

"Not so strange, though we assumed that one of you must have claimed her when you arrived." Seika's eyes slid to Hige's, the two of them sharing a mischievous look as she added, "There are plenty of boys on the island who will be excited to learn otherwise."

Hige grinned. "Oh, she'll get a kick out of that." With a sudden splash, Tsume began stomping back to the shore. Hige struggled to keep his tone neutral as he asked, "Hey, what's with you?"

"I'm not interested in gossip," he grumbled, "I'm heading back."

Seika watched him leave with a chuckle. Once he was gone, she turned to Hige. "Are you really tired of fish? If so, we can arrange for alternatives."

"Don't do that just for him," Toboe said, "Hige's just fussy."

"It would be no trouble. And we certainly wouldn't have to do all the work." There was an amused lilt to her voice as she said, "Your fishing leaves much to be desired. I'm curious to see whether your hunting is just as poor."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Perhaps." Seika shook off her fur as she walked towards them, casting droplets over Hige in provocation. "Are you interested?"

Toboe looked to him to respond. Hige chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "All right. As long as you manage your expectations."

Hakik had expected him. That much was clear by how he was sitting, in clear view of the den's entrance and cloaked in his guise. He smiled pleasantly at Kiba as soon as he appeared. "Welcome back." At his hesitation, Hakik chuckled, lifting a hand to beckon him in. "Come now. I am far too old to bite."

Kiba stepped inside, marveling at how effectively the den protected its master from the evening air. The breeze had a bite tonight, cooled by the island's waters, but here with Hakik, it was as warm as a summer's day. He sat in the same spot he'd claimed the night before, glancing at the dirt. The windrose had already been swept away.

"You've left the Maiden's side."

"She's with Tsume and Kuri." After some thought, Kiba added, "We leave tomorrow. But Cheza's been happy here, with your pack."

"We're honored to give her whatever peace we can." He watched Kiba nod stiffly, his eyes still on the soil at their feet. "Is that all, Kiba? You don't seem to have found much peace here."

Kiba's eyes narrowed in reply.

"Well?" Silver strands fell across Hakik's face as he ducked his head to hide a smile. "I can't imagine you came just to admire my good looks."

A sharp exhale. Kiba looked aside as he weighed the questions in his mind, turning them over like stones. "Kuri said something this morning. About Atra."

"Atra?"

He shut his eyes before saying evenly, "The Waxing Moon. I think. She traveled with us, for a while." At Hakik's nod, Kiba said, "There was this moment, early on. She claims she never did it, but I heard her howling. Calling me. We didn't understand it at first. I guess we never did. But I just…"

"Yes?"

Kiba frowned as he tried to make sense of his thoughts. "I've seen other lives. This cycle you mentioned—there have been times when it's felt like they're… colliding." He paused, realizing he was rambling but at a loss of how to stop himself. "I believe in fate. I don't know why else I've survived this long, if not to find Paradise. But all those times retracing my steps and all those memories, and Atra hasn't been in a single one. And what I don't understand is if—if—that call was real, if she was always meant to be a part of this… Why this cycle? Why now?"

Grayed eyes floated to the roof of the den in thought. Finally, the silence was broken by a chuckle. "Have you considered," Hakik said, "That there's no particular reason at all?"

Kiba's face crumpled. "What?"

"It is a duty that has been thrust upon you to walk the path to Paradise's gates. You are fated to seek Paradise. That much has been determined. But to succeed is another matter entirely," Hakik explained, enraptured by this train of thought. "The circumstances in which you were able to hear her call may have been so particular as to be improbable. Perhaps it wasn't a trick of fate, but happenstance."

"You're saying we got lucky?" Kiba said, incredulous.

"Yes." Hakik raised a brow. "And do you think luck is any less powerful in shaping our lives than fate?" [1]

In Kiba's silence, he continued. "In any case, the Waxing Moon is tied to the Beast as you are to the Maiden. The spark and the fall… It's possible that in other lives, she never made it very far. Even now, your Atra must live with death nipping at her heels." Kiba looked aside as a flush appeared on his cheeks, turning from Hakik's smile. "The fact that she's been so thoroughly erased from the tales makes it even more precious that you've found each other in this life. Wouldn't you say so?"

He would.

Sidestepping the question, Kiba said, "I wanted to ask about the Darcia's, too." He scowled at the thought of the Nobleman standing over in Freeze City, a gloved hand wrapped around Cheza's throat. That face had been in his dreams as of late, jeering at him. That silken purr: It's not yet time… "If Paradise is meant for the wolves, how did they get their hands on the story of how to open it in the first place?"

"Ah. I'm afraid I don't know the answer. Not for certain." He turned towards the mouth of the den in thought. "You must have noticed by now, how mutable our guises can be. That they're not quite as simple as tricks of light."

Reluctantly, Kiba nodded. It came so easily to him now, the dualities of it. Of holding his true self and his guise at once, feeling sensations that shouldn't translate. Kisses. The brush of a hand. The pinprick of tears.

"It is said that the wolves created humanity from a part of their own bodies. I've often wondered," Hakik said lowly, his gaze drifting to the floor as if slipping into thought, "How vestigial our magic truly is. Whether the bridge between humanity and beasts is stronger than we know." [2]

Kiba frowned. "What does this have to do with the Darcia's?"

"It might have everything to do with the Darcia's. If we are closer to man than we care to admit, then Lord Darcia I's attempt to open Paradise suddenly isn't quite as baffling as others might think. After all, a bridge does go both ways." They sat in the quiet for a few moments before Hakik shook his head. "I'm afraid I can offer no help beyond that."

"It's fine. Thank you." Kiba observed Hakik, wondering how exhausted he must be at this hour. He stood to leave. "I should let you sleep."

"Before you go," Hakik leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "May I offer a bit of unsolicited advice?" At Kiba's nod, he said, "I've been told that one's luck increases exponentially when those related to the object of their affections are kept happy."

Kiba blanched before easing into a sheepish smile. "You're nosy, for someone so wise." He looked to the exit at Hakik's indulgent chuckle. "I'll keep that in mind."

The knights escorted Atra to an old chapel at the fringe of the base. Its exterior was plain; a building to match Ayla and her farmhands, comforting in its simplicity. But inside, its stone walls were covered in intricate murals. A ship launching itself to the stars; red moons in ebony skies, a pyramid built of gears. As the knights walked up ahead, Atra tried and failed not to stare at the last: a white wolf howling against the rising sun.

The pews had been removed and replaced with a large table, maps spread across its surface. The altar was the only reminder that this place of war was once a place of worship it. Behind it, a grand stained glass window arced towards the rafters. Atra gaped at the sight of it: a tree with a stone obelisk rising up from its sprawling branches, the point of the structure topped with a bright star. Behind the grand design was the sky of sunset, filtering the light that spilled into the room pink and gold.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

It was. Gorgeous enough to distract her from their company, apparently. A woman stood at the altar, light hair falling about her shoulders and spilling across a white cloak. As she turned, Atra stifled a gasp at the sight of a familiar pair of amethyst eyes.

Without warning, one of the knights kicked at her, sending Atra stumbling into the room. Lady Jaguara clucked her tongue, chastising them with a shake of the head. Atra bit back a growl as they straightened, hinging at the waist towards the woman in a subservient bow.

Jaguara approached, ignoring Atra for the moment to speak to her men. "Is everything in order?"

"Yes," one replied. "The troop leaves tonight."

With a satisfied hum, Jaguara's hand disappeared beneath her cloak. "Make sure they receive this before their departure." It reappeared with a small satchel dangling between her fingers. Atra sniffed at the scent of it. Sweet, with the barest hint of death.

The knight presented her with an open hand and bowed his head. "Mi'lady?"

"A failsafe." The corner of her lips lifted as she dropped it into his palm, the weight settling without a sound. "Tell them it should be enough to take care of any unexpected guests."

Armor rattled as the knights straightened in a practiced salute. With satchel in hand, they turned on their heels to march out of the room. Finally, they were gone, leaving Atra to look up at the Noblewoman at the slamming of the door.

She stepped towards her with a swish of cloth. "Come now. Have you eaten?"

Atra slowly stood. Jaguara was careful to keep her body covered, her cloak drawn tightly over her shoulders. A smart woman. Though Atra knew she must be armed, there was no hope of discerning what sort of weapon she carried beneath her cloak. For all she knew, Jaguara already had a small gun trained on her, aiming from behind the cloth.

But then, if she was in fact the woman from Atra's dreams, would she have to worry about such a threat after all?

"I'm not a patient woman."

Atra bowed her head in apology. "Yes. I've eaten."

Those lips, painted in a purple that spoke of luxury, pouted. "A shame." Jaguara reached for the platter on the table and uncovered it with a flourish. "I'd prepared a treat."

Atra blinked at the pink masses Jaguara unveiled, blood seeping from the flesh onto the plate beneath. A perfectly prepared pair of rabbits, ready to eat. She returned the offer with a tight smile. "I may have a bite or two. Depending on how long you're willing to entertain my company."

"I imagine I'll enjoy your company for some time," Jaguara said, replacing the cover. She beckoned her closer, tilting her head as Atra avoided walking alongside the table, opting instead to settle some distance away from it and Jaguara. More room to run.

She averted her gaze as Jaguara stepped forward to take a closer look at her features, alight with curiosity. "True black wolves are rare. A beautiful specimen, and yet you hide yourself," Jaguara said. "Tell me—your human appearance. Do you craft it?"

Atra shifted slightly under her careful scrutiny. "Craft it?"

"Yes. Choosing your eyes, skin, and mouth; building yourself in the image of man."

"We don't, as far as I know."

"The farce is impeccably designed, across all wolves. Alluring enough to be used to your advantage, but not so beautiful as to be eye-catching," Jaguara observed, lifting a manicured nail to her cheek. "Quite the tool for survival."

"One you don't share," Atra replied, suddenly feeling quite daring. She looked into Jaguara's gaze, searching for any hint that the noblewoman remembered her as she said, "Beauty like yours is unforgettable."

Her lips twitched. Atra was preparing herself to deliver a more direct question about their ethereal meeting when Jaguara turned on her heel and strode towards the window. "Do you know the old stories, wolf?"

Atra turned with her, stammering a reply. "Yes. Well, some. The basic ones about Paradise."

"And of the Nobility?"

She thought of Nerine, of her family's work with the house of Darcia and the petty wars. "None."

Jaguara came to a stop behind the altar, craning her neck towards the window as if preparing to loose a great howl. She inclined her head in a bid for Atra to settle at her side. Once she'd obeyed, Jaguara began. "The Nobility is the race of rulers; a culture that opened the doors to space and time. Of the great families that once reigned sovereign across this land, only three remain. Orkham's, Darcia's, and my own.

"Of the three, the Darcia's were the most glorious. They propelled civilization to new heights, ushering in an age of modernity that fostered wealth and peace among the humans. Then, Lord Darcia I came upon the courage to envision a new world."

Atra frowned at the colored glass. "What sort of world?"

"A Paradise in which the Nobles reign," Jaguara said, her voice rising and falling as if reciting a grand prayer. "With a white wolf at his heels, Lord Darcia I split the path to Paradise, ensuring the Nobility's survival when the time came for the chosen wolf to return and lead humanity to destruction."

Atra took a deep, slow breath, her heart racing as she glared at the locks of hair fallen on Jaguara's cloak, all lavish as silk. "Is that what this is about?" She jerked her head towards the glass. "Splitting the path?"

"Smart girl," Jaguara purred. She lifted a hand towards the glass. "The Tree of All Seeds—the heart of the world and key to the heavens. Two hundred years ago, Lord Darcia I found his way to its roots and constructed a seal to preserve our reign.

"Today, the seal has been worn to ruins and the Tree of All Seeds is dying. The time for us to seize the opportunity our Lord planted is here. Without his foresight, our future would have been cast away. He did it for us. Perhaps humanity, too."

"But he cursed the world to do it."

There was the sound of a shift beneath the cloth. "Why, yes." By all indications, Jaguara's smile should have been warm, but it sent a chill down Atra's spine. "I thought you didn't know the stories."

"I've been told this much," Atra said carefully. By Jaguara herself, Atra thought, though doubt was beginning to fester at the back of her mind. "I didn't know it was the curse of the Darcia's."

Lady Jaguara's smile turned cruel. "On the contrary, one could call it the curse of wolves." She took a step back, her cloak rippling across her shoulders. Between the folds, Atra caught sight of armor flashing beneath, and suddenly she remembered what she'd heard in that dark, deathbed of a room. Sister. Twins.

Atra was blinded by a sudden flash from the stone at her feet. At once, a force crashed upon her from above, pinning her in place. She cried out as it raked across her, its touch scorching as it ripped away her guise, leaving her a wolf again, quaking on her side on the chapel floor.

Her eyes darted across the room, her breaths harsh as she took in the sight of the glowing circle of runes drawn around her body. She tried to move only to be rewarded with a heavy pressure across her form, keeping her down.

Jaguara approached, her boots stopping beyond the runes. Atra briefly shut her eyes at the sound of a blade being unsheathed, just barely catching a glimpse of Jaguara's elegant hand drifting from her waist.

"This chapel is built on the bones of the Darcia's territory, did you know?" She circled Atra's prison, her steps clacking on the stone. "Just like the civilization they built, the family has fallen. Ravaged by disaster, death, and loss."

As Jaguara came to a stop, Atra tried and failed once more to scramble away. Jaguara hovered over her, tapping the blade of her dagger with a perfectly manicured nail, those gorgeous eyes resting on Atra's belly, so vulnerable and soft. "We have met before, haven't we?"

"N-no," Atra forced out.

"I didn't call you here to make a liar of you, wolf."

Metal flashed in Atra's periphery. A second later, she registered the blade burrowed in her side. She screamed as pain seized her, a viscous burning that spread along her leg and spine, blood wetting her coat and spilling onto the chapel floor. She barely noticed the runes shifting around her, the color of their glow darkening to wine.

There was an awed exhale, the sound of a suspicion confirmed.

"Let us try once more for honesty. Tell me," Jaguara purred, "Why does your blood sing with the Darcia's curse?"

NOTES:

[1] My favorite part about writing Hakik was having him look Kiba in the eye and tell him that it really isn't that deep.

But in all seriousness, I originally wanted to avoid two Hakik info dumps in a row, but in the end, his banter with Kiba felt key. One of Kiba's lines ("For being the chosen wolf, I don't get much choice at all") got cut from a very early draft, because I realized that my interpretation of his character is one that actually finds comfort in the idea of fate and a lack of choice. So for a new kind of ending to work, I needed a Kiba who was willing to listen and a character who could help him bend and break that philosophy. What better messenger than Hakik, and what better to challenge the fatalistic than luck?

[2] Similar to above, I found myself bending and breaking the rule I set out for myself around handling the wolves' guises. I said I'd play things fast and loose as the series did when it came to their magic, but I went in sticking to the idea of their human selves being pure illusions. When I started writing, I thought the boys weren't able to make physical contact with humans at all. But in rewatching the series, I saw that Tsume tackles and grips a human's shirt at one point, and Kiba and Cheza are constantly holding hands. I started thinking of them not just as illusions or pure physical transformations, but something odd and in the middle. So now, as we wind down, we have this: Kiba, a wolf who's starting to grapple with what it means to be in-between.