Well this was a disaster.

After Jonathan and Lewis had their shouting match about necromancy and second chances, you lingered behind to steady Lewis—his wide eyes searching for an anchor—before you went after Florence. She had followed Jonathan upstairs, her skirts brushing along the banister, her voice soft as she tried to remind him that Lewis was still just a child.

But what came after was far worse.

Isaac returned. Isaac and Selena, with their venomous grins and old magic, had stolen Lewis from right under their noses. The rescue attempt was a trap, of course—it always was with Isaac. Florence and Jonathan under you, while you were locked in a suspended iron cage high above the chamber. Lewis dangled across the room in another, just above a nest of blades.

After you had told Issac to shut up when he made a comment about Florence’s family he spoke.

Isaac said with his cruel tongue. “Ah, protective, aren’t you?” His eyes slid to Florence. “I remember when she first brought you here. Broken thing you were, until she stripped that curse from your bones.”

Lewis, frightened and confused, turned to Florence. “What curse?” But she didn’t answer, her mind already unraveling escape routes, her gaze flicking nervously between you and Isaac.

“I rather miss that beast,” Isaac sneered, lifting his hand toward your cage.

Florence’s face drained of color. “Don’t—”

But it was too late. The metal screamed, rattling under Isaac’s magic. Bones shifted, cracked, and you felt the old curse clawing through your veins like fire. Florence shouted your name, straining against her bonds until, in a burst of her own fury, she broke them, her magic was back. She caught Lewis just in time as Isaac vanished with Selena and the bone key.

The silence was broken by a low, guttural growl. Your cage bent outward. A massive paw curled over the bars. Florence whispered your name like a prayer, but Jonathan, pale with dread, shoved Lewis toward the secret passage. “We’re leaving—now.”

“Wait—” she began, but your snarl echoed and you lunged. She barely slipped away, skirts brushing stone, before the three of them were thrown into the night by the house’s dolls.

They landed hard in the dirt. Jonathan dusted himself off, trying to soothe Lewis with half-answers. But Florence didn’t hear. Her eyes were locked on the house.

Then—a growl, low and close. From the shadows, you emerged, hulking, your eyes gleaming with the beast’s hunger. Florence’s breath caught. She whispered your name and stepped forward before Jonathan could stop her.

You bolted into the garden, and without hesitation, she followed.

“Please—” she called, voice cracking. Her spell struck quick and true, and with a splash you were thrown into the garden pond.

Water streamed from your fur as you rose, lips curling back, teeth bared.

“It’s me,” she whispered, voice trembling but steady enough to reach through. “You know me. Remember.”

You growled, but then the scent hit you—her scent, lavender and candle smoke. Your nose twitched. Ears tucked back. The fury drained into something softer, trembling.

Her hand lifted, steady despite the racing of her heart. “Come back to me.”

Slowly, painfully, your form shrank. Bones snapped, fur retreated, and there you were—half-submerged, gasping, bare and trembling in her arms.

She caught you, holding you close against her chest, ignoring the water soaking her dress. “It’s all right. I’ve got you.” Her voice was low, tender, like she was speaking to that broken creature she’d first found all those years ago in the camp.

You clutched weakly at her, muttering her name. And in that moment, it wasn’t the curse, or the beast, or Isaac that mattered—it was her. Always her.

“Let’s get you some clothes,” she whispered, helping you from the pond guiding you to the front of the house towards hers next door where Jonathan a Lewis already were.

It wasn’t new, not to her. She had carried you through the war, through curses and shadows, through nights when both of you had nothing but each other.