---

The ocean fought them every length of the crossing. Cold water pressed against Shēnléi’s chest and dragged heavily at his limbs, every swell rising to strike salt into his eyes and flood the dark fur along his muzzle. The taste of it gathered bitterly upon his tongue. Beneath him, there was nothing but fathomless blue-black and the occasional brush of something unseen moving through the depths. Ahead, the island rose from the haze—a crown of dense subtropical green gathered around old volcanic stone, its beaches broken by pale sandbars that reached toward the mainland like half-drowned fingers.

His bronze gaze never left it.

Behind and beside him came those he had entrusted with Tianlong’s future: , , his uncle , , , , , , and his troublesome cousin . Their breathing came harsh between the slap of waves, their bodies appearing and vanishing as the sea lifted them upon its back. The ocean tugged at their coats and sought gaps between them, yet none faltered. None called for retreat. Shēnléi felt their presence more than he saw it—the steady rhythm of paws through water, the muted snorts of breath, the certainty of warriors who had followed their emperor beyond the safety of familiar shores.

He had spoken with one of those who claimed leadership here.

He had listened to everything she had laid before him. He had offered her the courtesy of another ruler, but no matter what she said would persuade him from what had already become necessity within his own mind. Shēnléi is an emperor and an emperor protects both his family and his people. He led them to a brighter future  and no future was brighter than the creation of Baihe.

The land smelled alive even from the water. Damp earth, salt-heavy wind, flowering vines, and the faint mineral heat of blackened stone mingled upon the air. It was fertile. Defensible. Near enough to the mainland for trade, yet separated by the sea and sandbars that could be guarded. The forest could shelter healers and their stores. The shores could feed children. The island could become a haven for the wounded, the vulnerable, and those Tianlong had sworn to preserve.

Shēnléi would not leave such land beyond his reach merely because another had arrived before him and possessed the sense to call it theirs.

His wives rose within his thoughts, each face distinct. , his beautiful Empress, beneath the wisteria with their babes. with sunlight caught in her fur, laughing with both and . bright as distant stars over the steppe with a swollen belly. Then came his children—newborn, fragile, and scarcely acquainted with the world that would one day demand everything of them. and had entered it with death already breathing against their small bodies. had been born weak beside them though far stronger than his weak siblings. Even , his beautiful golden heir, remained no larger than the reach of an adult’s forelegs.

He had begged Heaven for their lives.

Now he would build something worthy of protecting them.

Baihe would rise here—not as some empty monument to imperial vanity, but as a sanctuary secured by both his fangs, Tianlong's blood, and the disciplined will of Heaven. Tianlong could not afford to wait meekly for danger to choose the hour of its arrival. His father had died because war had crossed the boundary between distant threat and present reality. Shēnléi would not repeat the mistakes of men who believed safety could be maintained by good intentions alone.

A low wave broke against him and his paws struck rough earth beneath the shallows, claws scraping through coarse grains of volcanic sand. Relief burned through his exhausted muscles as he found purchase and hauled himself from the sea. Water streamed from his dark coat in rivulets, running along his ribs and falling from the thick fur of his underbelly. The air was warmer here, heavy with moisture, the forest breathing damply beyond the shore. Insects shrilled beneath the canopy and somewhere within the trees, an unseen bird gave a sharp cry and fell silent.

Farther inland, the old volcano loomed beyond layers of green—a slumbering god whose breath still warmed the bones of the island.

Shēnléi did not wait for the others to gather fully before lifting his head.

The emperor’s howl tore across the Keys.

It rose from deep within his chest, carrying authority and the force of an intention long since decided. The sound swept over the blackened shore and plunged into the forest, scattering wingbeats from the canopy. It struck ancient volcanic stone and returned in broken echoes before rolling out across the same water they had conquered to reach it.

It was no mindless cry for blood.

It was a summons.

An imperial demand that those who called the Keys their own come forth and hear the mercy offered before Heaven withdrew it.

Hear me, rulers of the Keys!

His voice followed the dying echo, deep and unwavering despite the ache in his lungs. Shēnléi stood with seawater pooling beneath his paws, bronze eyes fixed upon the dense wall of trees.

I am Emperor Shēnléi of Tianlong. I have crossed these waters not for mindless slaughter, but to offer you the opportunity to surrender.

No answer came.

Only the hush of retreating waves and the wet tread of his warriors emerging from the surf behind him. One by one, their silhouettes joined his upon the shore. The sight of them steadied something inside him. He had not come alone, armed only with royal appetite. These were wolves of different histories and tempers who had nevertheless chosen to stand beneath the same purpose.

His gaze moved slowly across the shadows between the trees, searching for the glint of eyes, a trembling leaf or the faint shift of a hidden body.

Relinquish your claim to these shores and no blood need be drawn. Those who dwell here may remain beneath the protection of Baihe, and therefore beneath my own mercy. Those who wish to depart will be granted safe passage to the mainland.

He paused, allowing the promise to settle in the silence.

Mercy was not weakness, his empress made sure to tell him that. His grandfather had taught him differently, however, and Shēnléi was a byproduct of war. His First Wife preaches a different course; compassion without authority invited contempt, but authority without restraint bred rebellion in the hearts of the conquered. Shēnléi had not crossed the sea merely to scatter bodies across the sand. Dead subjects planted no fields and burned forests sheltered no children. A ruler who destroyed everything he claimed inherited only ash.

Your people will be fed, sheltered, and judged not as conquered enemies, but as subjects beneath the Dragon Throne.

The forest remained still.

Shēnléi allowed the silence to linger even as impatience tightened beneath his ribs. Mercy offered too hastily appeared as fear. Mercy repeated until it became pleading ceased to be mercy at all. He would extend his hand once. He would not leave it suspended before those who mistook restraint for frailty.

But understand me well. He warned and whatever warmth had lived within his voice vanished. In its place came cold imperial certainty—the same tone with which he passed laws, delivered judgements, and struck names from ancestral records.

Should you refuse the hand I extend, you will face the full might of Tianlong’s army and Heaven’s Might beside it. We did not cross the sea merely to be turned away at its edge.

The emperor stood tall upon the volcanic sand and behind him gathered the rest of his warriors—a living promise that his words were no empty threat.

He breathed deeply. Salt, wet fur, hot stone, and subtropical blossoms filled his lungs.

This island would become Baihe.

Whether its first stones were laid in peace or stained red before sunset was no longer his decision alone.

Surrender the Keys and Baihe will rise here in peace. His bronze eyes narrowed upon the listening forest. Resist and Heaven will decide which of us was meant to remain.

---

Knighthood and wolfhood were not all that different; he was learning. Each required patience, vigilance, and a carefully trained eye.

Raelan was off on his morning routine, a sweep of the grounds as he so often did. Ensuring that their borders were marked and that the scents of others that had been carried on the wind were no closer than they had been days before.

A few times, he recalled, a wandering badger had sauntered past their borders. In others, a mountain lion who had seemingly found themselves lost from their usual mountainous range had stumbled past their clearly marked lines. In both, Raelan had removed them before any lingering eyes and ears could notice them.

And just like before, he walked the territory grounds, marking the already saturated scent and keeping a vigilant eye on the terrain beyond.

It was not until the sun had risen to its peak intensity in the sky that Raelan fell back, returning to the familiar castle grounds of Eastrenhold. He stared at the growing spires of their new home, watching them grow ever closer with each purposeful step he took. Where once they had seemed cruelly dark and eerie, now they held a different air about them.

Warm and inviting, he thought.

He turned toward the gardens, a shortcut he had noted earlier that allowed him easier access to the castle’s interior rooms. But as his steps waded through the rows of planted flowers, it was the scent of another that diverted his attention.

A sweet aroma of plum, blueberries…and the herbal notes of tea.

He shifted in his stance, turning a pale stare toward his right, before his eyes came to land on a not-so-familiar silhouette.

This must be one of the newer recruits Vidalia had told him about.

Raelan let out a welcoming ‘boof’ as his paws carried him toward her.

The time had come, as had the day, when he and Vidalia had set off toward this alleged inn; Highwayman Howff, Raelan noted in quiet, idle thought, from the words of a traveling Bard. , he remembered, the name that Vidalia had used to describe the colorful man who had spoken of such an establishment. Would he be there, as well?

Raelan had come to know his fair share of inns—the type of debauchery that often was hastily indulged, in secret and otherwise—many of his own men had a list of their favorite taverns that he and they would frequent when on the road.

As men often did.

It was no place for a Queen, he had thought. No place for a well-standing woman, either. And yet, they were wolves now, he had reasoned with himself. Surely, such a place would be different, would it not?

Still, there was no denying his Queen. Although even if she were not in such a position, Raelan knew better than to try to sway an already determined mind. She was, at times, even worse than he—headstrong in her decisions—and unable to be swayed when she set her sights on something she desired.

It was one of the very many things he loved about her—her striking and resolute mind.

He did not deter her in the slightest (knowing better than that, after all), but rather prepared her in warning of what it was she might come to see…or hear. Better, he thought, that she was knowledgeable beforehand in the small chance that this Inn was as similar to the ones that he recalled from their past.

The sweet smell of fermented berries had been his first indication that they were getting close.

Next were the herbal notes that hung heavy within the air.

And finally, the sound of laughter and chatter confirmed to him that they were there.

Whether it was instinct or war-learned vigilance, Raelan’s muscles instantly tensed in silent preparation for an unknown foe. His guard hairs pricked and his ears swiveled to stand at attention atop his skull.

Stayrys ñuhot umbas, ("Stay close to me,") He murmured to his Queen in a softened warning, falling back to their foreign tongue in case of any lingering ears. Kesīri skorossa kapablōn hen iksos daor. ("We do not know these wolves or what they might be capable of.")

Without having the ability to scout the area ahead, he was…in the simplest terms, on edge.

But ever the faithful Knight, he kept his wits about him as his shoulders rolled once with a raised chin.

Onward then, to see what this Howff might offer them.