A lump formed instantly in the center of her throat. Roxy stared down at the little wolf pup nestled against her side, her violet eyes closed as she trusted the next words that were about to fall out of Roxy’s lips.

Roxy wanted to lie.

She wanted to weave another beautiful, magical fairytale about the Fox King going on a long journey across the cosmos, returning one day with pockets full of stardust and a wicked smirk on his lips.

But she couldn’t. To lie to Iris now would only plant a seed of false hope that would eventually violently tear the little girl’s heart apart all over again.

Roxy forced herself to swallow the agonizing lump, her jaw trembling. She tightened her arm around Iris, pulling the small, warm body closer to her ribs.

"Oh, my sweet girl," Roxy whispered, her voice cracking. She pressed a desperate, lingering kiss to the top of Iris’s dark hair. "Papa Ren... Papa Ren is never coming back."

"But," Roxy continued quickly, her voice a fierce, watery whisper, "he is in a place where he is always, always watching over you. He is in the stars he painted, and he is in the wind that rustles the Iron-Wood leaves. Every single time you do something brave, or something mischievous, that is him, cheering for you from the sky. He loves you so much, Iris. And he will never stop protecting us."

For a long, agonizing moment, Iris was completely silent. Then, her tiny lower lip began to violently wobble. A single, hot tear slipped from beneath her closed eyelashes, soaking into Roxy’s tunic.

Roxy braced herself for the wails, fully prepared to hold the grieving pup through the night. But the sheer, supernatural exhaustion of the day, combined with the profound warmth of the bed and the rhythmic pulse of Little Fedor’s red gemstone beside them, proved too strong. Iris let out one soft, heartbroken little whimper, her tiny fists clenching the fabric of Roxy’s shirt, and then her breathing slowly, finally, leveled out into the steady rhythm of a deep, exhausted sleep.

Roxy waited until she was absolutely certain both children were completely asleep.

Then, the dam violently broke.

Roxy clamped her free hand tightly over her own mouth, her teeth biting down hard on her own knuckles to muffle the sound. She cried. It wasn’t a delicate, silent weeping; it was a visceral, chest-heaving, agonizing sob that physically shook her frame. She wept for the trickster who had sacrificed everything. She wept for the heavy, terrifying burden of leading the Vanguard against the heavens. She wept until her brilliant green eyes were swollen and her head pounded, strictly controlling herself from making a single loud noise that might wake the sleeping children in her arms.

Eventually, surrounded by the scent of crushed autumn leaves and the steady pulse of the Kitsune heir’s heart, she cried herself into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

****

The next morning, the Beastworld sun rose with a blinding, freezing brilliance, casting long, sparkling shadows across the snow-buried courtyards of the Iron-Wood Manor.

Roxy stood in the center of the massive, roaring kitchens, her hands buried deep in a massive wooden bowl of spiced dough.

Cooking was her ultimate grounding mechanism. The rhythmic, repetitive motions of chopping, kneading, and stirring helped anchor her transmigrated soul to the physical world, pushing the lingering, heavy grief of the night into the background.

The air was thick with the mouth-watering aromas of roasting winter-boar, spiced root stew, and freshly baked honey-bread.

Outside the frosted glass of the kitchen windows, the chaotic, irrepressible energy of the Vanguard pack was in full swing. The heavy snowfall from the night before had turned the eastern courtyard into a pristine, white playground.

Axel and Onyx, completely ignoring the sub-zero temperatures, were currently engaged in a highly tactical, brutal snowball fight against Torian. The White Tiger was letting the twins use his broad back as a mobile fortress, intentionally missing his return throws while roaring with booming, theatrical laughter.

Near the stone steps, Kaelen was carefully helping Iris build a towering snow-wolf, his icy blue eyes incredibly gentle as he packed the frost into shape. Caspian was standing near the frozen fountain, holding little Zale in one arm while using his aquatic magic to playfully sculpt the falling snowflakes into floating, icy jellyfish that Zale clapped at in pure delight.

Roxy smiled softly, wiping a smudge of flour from her forehead with the back of her wrist. They were healing. It was slow, and it was agonizing, but the pulse of the Iron-Wood was still beating.

Just as Roxy turned to slide a massive iron tray of honey-bread into the roaring brick oven, a sudden, heavy commotion echoed from the front gates of the Manor.

It wasn’t the sound of an attack, nor was it the booming roar of returning Vanguard patrols. Instead, an incredibly distinct, out-of-place sensory shift washed through the freezing mountain air. The scent of ancient pine and winter frost was violently cut by the sharp, undeniable aroma of sea salt, crushed pearls, and abyssal trench magic.

Roxy quickly wiped her hands on her linen apron, her brow furrowing in confusion. The ocean was hundreds of miles away.

She hurried out of the kitchens, stepping into the grand entrance hall just as the massive, iron-reinforced oak doors were pulled open by the perimeter guards.

The freezing winter wind howled into the Manor, but it brought with it an ethereal, breathtaking sight that completely contrasted the rugged, brutal aesthetics of the North.

Stepping gracefully over the threshold were two women of undeniable, staggering aquatic royalty.

The first was an older, magnificent woman. She wore flowing, iridescent robes woven from pure abyssal silk that seemed to constantly ripple and shift colors like the surface of a sunlit sea. Her hair was a cascading waterfall of pale, pearlescent silver, adorned with a heavy crown of woven black coral. Her eyes were striking, depthless voids of oceanic blue, radiating an ancient, unyielding matriarchal power.

Beside her stood a younger woman, possessing the same striking aquatic features, her dark hair braided with glowing bioluminescent shells. She carried herself with the lethal, fluid grace of a tidal wave.

It was Nerissa, the Queen of the Deep, and Nimue, Princess of the Abyssal Trenches.

Behind them, a retinue of heavily armored Merman guards hauled massive, water-logged wooden chests into the grand hall. The chests were practically overflowing with staggering oceanic wealth—clusters of flawless pink pearls, rare healing kelps, weapons forged from unbreakable leviathan bone, and bolts of shimmering, waterproof silks.

"Oh my," Roxy breathed, stepping forward, instantly recognizing the profound resemblance in their striking, aquatic eyes.

The commotion at the doors had instantly drawn the attention of the Alpha Kings outside. The heavy side doors of the courtyard opened, and Torian, Kaelen, and Caspian stepped into the hall, shaking the snow from their broad shoulders.

The absolute second Caspian’s eyes landed on the silver-haired woman standing in the center of the entrance hall, the former Merman froze entirely solid.

The playful, devoted father completely vanished. Caspian’s jaw dropped, his aquatic eyes blowing incredibly wide. He had given up his tail. He had surrendered his claim to the abyssal throne to walk on land, to bind his core to a human woman, and to stand with the Vanguard. He had not seen the Queen of the Deep since the day he left the ocean.

Nerissa’s depthless blue eyes slowly tracked across the grand hall, completely ignoring the towering, terrifying forms of the Wolf and Tiger Kings. Her gaze bypassed Roxy entirely, locking with absolute, unwavering intensity onto the stunned aquatic warlord standing near the courtyard doors.

The silence in the grand hall was deafening, save for the soft, dripping sound of melting snow and seawater hitting the polished stone floor.

Nimue stepped forward, a faint, emotional smile touching her lips as she gestured to a beautifully carved, singular chest of white coral held by the guards. "We brought gifts, Brother. Especially for you."

Caspian swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly. He took a hesitant, slow step forward, completely overwhelmed by the sudden collision of his past and his present.

Nerissa did not move. The ancient Sea Queen simply stood tall, her iridescent robes shimmering in the torchlight. Her expression was a complex, beautiful mixture of royal authority and deep, undeniable maternal yearning. She looked at her son—at his two strong legs, at his Vanguard leathers, and at the completely different life he had built on the frozen surface of the world.

A soft, almost imperceptible smile finally broke the stoic mask of the Abyssal Queen. She gracefully opened her arms.

"Are you not going to give your mother a hug?"