His paws scrambled toward me when another unearthly wail burbled from the pit. Five limbs emerged, shooting wildly across the room, tearing stone from the walls and twisting the iron door.
Grae ducked under the thick, flailing limbs as one wrapped around my barrel chest. My paws slid across the slick floor but I was held in place by the beast. A snarl escaped my maw as I twisted to and fro. The air whooshed out of me—my howl dying on my lips—as the muscled tentacle constricted. My ribs stabbed with pain under the crushing weight.
Grae raced over, biting into the limb around my chest, tearing into it with his teeth. Yellow mucus rained down through my fur, but one tentacle was instantly replaced by another. No matter how Grae attacked, the beast wouldn’t release me.
We worked in unison, twisting and snapping, biting and shredding. Something in the way we growled and attacked felt primal, ancient—the same way my ancestors battled these monsters centuries ago. But my ancestors battled the ostekke as a pack, and Grae and I were only two. Another tentacle lashed out and wrapped around my center again and I yelped. How many fucking tentacles did an ostekke have?
“Hang on!” Grae shouted into my mind, whirling toward the warped and twisted iron door. He leapt over one tentacle and ducked under another, lying belly down on the ground to crawl under the gap in the gnarled door. His human form would’ve never made it, but his Wolf squeezed through.
I tried to swallow and winced. It felt like a blade being dragged down the back of my throat.
The ostekke pulled, but I had no air to yowl. Another tentacle wrapped around my front leg and yanked so hard I was certain my leg was about to pop out of its socket. Grae reemerged with the torch clenched between his snarling teeth, leaping over to me and holding the flame to the beast’s mucus-covered skin. One tentacle retracted, only to instantly be replaced by another around my neck. I felt the blood vessels bursting in my eyes as I choked, desperately trying to get a purchase on the slippery floor.
As Grae moved to burn it again, he was knocked to the ground, a flailing limb sweeping out his feet. My eyes spotted, even in this form I could barely hang on to consciousness against the brutal, unending wrath of the ostekke. The monster grabbed Grae by one front paw and one back, yanking in opposite directions until his screams stabbed through me.
A muffled shout came from the end of the hall as four Rooks appeared beyond the door. One booted down the twisted iron grate as another charged into the fray, holding aloft an unlit lantern. Swinging, they smashed it against the wall, oil dripping onto the wet stone. They threw it into the pit while another Rook grabbed the discarded torch and lit the oil. The flame trailed down toward the abyss, and then—
The room erupted, fire shooting in a scorching beam upwards, singing my fur. The tentacle around my neck released and I turned my face from the white-hot blaze. A sickening squeaking and popping filled the putrid air as the flames turned from white to red. With a final flash, the bright light faded back to darkness.
My limbs finally freed, I collapsed to the ground, my head lolling onto the boots of the nearest Rook. I looked up into those hazel eyes, instantly recognizing them.
“Calla?” Ora asked, cocking their head at me.
I whined, my tail thumping on the stone as Ora surveyed my Wolf form with an appreciative smile. My chest rose and fell, my mouth open and panting from the exhaustion of battle.
Ora pulled their face covering down and grinned. “Well, that was a bit more dramatic than we had planned.”
Relief flooded through me as I glanced at the other three—Hector, Sadie, and Navin.
With a groan, Grae sat up and shifted, leaning his naked form against the far wall. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”
I shifted in mirror to him, hugging my legs to my chest and sighing as my body healed along with the transition. Without the torchlight, the room was cast in heavy shadows, and even then, now was not the time to be concerned with modesty.
“You killed an ostekke,” I said to Ora, staring down at the severed strands of burnt flesh.
Grae chuckled, wiping his hair off his face. “I thought it was the Wolves who were supposed to save humans from monsters.”
“Humans can be heroes, too, when given half a chance.” Ora found my cheek and cupped it through the darkness. “We can save each other.”
“Thank you.” I stood and searched the shadowed room. “Where are the others?”
“The party,” Navin said, pointing to the ceiling. “The plan is in motion, Your Majesty.” He gave me a wink at the title.
Grae stumbled over to me, half-covering my naked body with his own in a way that made me want to roll my eyes. We were so covered in shadows and burnt ostekke goo you could barely make out our figures anyway. Ora seemed to get the hint though and removed the cloak from their Rook uniform and tossed it to me. Hector did the same for Grae, and my mate and I stood shoulder to shoulder as we stared, bemused at our rescuers.
“What plan is in motion?” I asked, eyeing each of them.
Navin stepped forward and held out a dagger to me. My dagger. The one Vellia had made for me. My fingers traced the gilded etchings of the Gold Wolf crest. Sadie and Hector tipped their chins toward the sky as I took it.
Navin placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head in an act of reverence. “The plan to take your throne, Your Majesty.”
The others discarded their Rook uniforms as they walked, leaving a trail of black along the tiled floor. The dungeons gave way to gilded opulence, flowing in Olmdere’s patron colors of burgundy and gold. By the time we reached the ground floor, Ora was dressed in their performance uniform once more, Sadie and Hector along with them. I couldn’t help but smile at the fanciful silver toggles and ballooned brocade trousers. Sadie cut me a look, daring me to comment on it, and I pressed my lips together.
I tried to take in the castle—my castle—as we rushed toward the grand hall. The gold-flecked stone shimmered in the midday light, the rooms accented with cream and black. Detailed reliefs covered the walls along with portraits of Wolves in gilded frames. I wondered which Wolf was my father as I passed portrait after portrait of the Olmderian kings. I wondered which room would have been mine. I was born under this roof. This was my very first home.
“This way,” Navin whispered, leading us into an anteroom filled with bustling performers.
Jugglers and bards, fire dancers and minstrels, all crammed around the warped mirrors painting their faces and unpacking their trunks. No one paid us any mind, even though Grae and I looked like a monster had nearly eaten us. Maybe they thought the Rook capes were costumes? Maybe we were actors in a play? Whatever they assumed, they were too busy dressing themselves to notice.