Listen, I’ve been alive for three centuries. I’ve seen empires rise and fall, witnessed wars that reshaped continents, and once watched a particularly stupid duke try to seduce a tree he thought was a wood nymph. (Spoiler: it was just a tree.)

But nothing—and I mean nothing—has ever terrified me like the last fourteen hours.

I paced another circuit around Azeri's chambers, my white paws silent against the plush carpeting that probably cost more than a small village's annual income. The fibers were deep and soft, almost too soft—my , claws kept catching in the weave, forcing me to retract them with each step. The room was warm, almost stifling, the kind of heat that came from enchanted braziers that never needed tending. It made my fur feel heavy, made the air taste stale in my lungs. No one could see me. No one could ever see me—that was the whole point of the concealment techniques Azeri's mentor at the Mendea Academy had taught me. When you're a spirit fox familiar with three tails and enough power to level a city block, you learn to hide. Completely. Invisibly. To everyone but your bonded.

Which meant I was alone with my panic, and no one in this entire palace even knew I existed.

If only anyone in this gods-forsaken palace knew, I could get help.

My hackles had been raised for hours now, a constant prickling discomfort along my spine. My tails kept lashing involuntarily, betraying the anxiety I couldn't voice to anyone. Every few minutes, my claws would extend without my permission, scoring tiny marks in that expensive carpet that no one would ever see.

Azeri, I called out mentally for the thousandth time, pushing my consciousness along the thread that should connect us. The effort sent a dull ache through my skull, like pressing against a wall that wouldn't budge. Azeri, where are you? Answer me, you reckless, stubborn, absolutely infuriating girl.

Nothing. Just that awful, empty silence that had been my only companion for the last twelve hours. The absence of her presence felt like a missing limb, a phantom pain that wouldn't stop throbbing.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to shift into my larger form and tear through these pristine halls until someone—anyone—told me where she was. But I couldn't. Because in two days, at her twentieth birthday celebration, I was supposed to be formally introduced to the royal family. Azeri had been so excited about it, planning the whole thing with that brilliant smile of hers.

"They're going to love you, Txiki," she'd said, scratching behind my ears in that way that made my back leg kick involuntarily. (Undignified, but I allowed it because she was my person.) "Father will probably try to adopt you himself."

Well, that introduction was going to be real awkward if their crown princess was missing.

I'd tried to warn her. Oh, how I'd tried.

"Don't go with Villana," I'd said, planting myself directly in front of the door. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"You have a bad feeling about everything," Azeri had laughed, stepping over me with those long legs of hers. Her silver hair had caught the light, and her violet eyes had sparkled with mischief. "We're just going dress shopping for my birthday party. I'll be back before dinner."

Except—and this was the part that made her so confident. I knew she already had a dress. A gorgeous one she'd picked out weeks ago at the academy and hidden away, keeping it secret from everyone, especially Villana. She loved having that little secret, that one thing her half-sister didn't know about. But their father had been relentless about them bonding, about doing something together as sisters, and he'd finally worn Azeri down. So she'd agreed to this shopping trip, knowing full well she'd pretend to look, pretend to consider options, and ultimately "find something" that she knew Villana would then steal. It was the perfect compromise to spend time with Villana and get her father off her back. Plus they would have guards with them so she should be safe.

Which meant she'd dismissed my warning without a second thought. Why worry about a shopping trip when she had it all figured out?

That was fifteen hours ago.

I'd felt it the moment something went wrong—a sharp tug on our bond, like someone had yanked a rope tied around my chest. The sensation had been physical, visceral, stealing the breath from my lungs. Then… our bond muted, confusion. Fear. And then, twelve hours ago, nothing at all. The connection had just… severed. Gone dark like someone had snuffed out a candle, leaving behind a cold emptiness where warmth should have been.

For twelve hours, I'd been going slowly, methodically insane.

I couldn't search the entire kingdom on my own—it was too vast, and without our mental link to guide me, I was just a fox with anxiety and a superiority complex. I'd considered revealing myself to the royal family, throwing myself on their mercy and explaining that their daughter was in danger.

But what if I was wrong? What if she was fine, and I was just being paranoid? Azeri would never forgive me for ruining her surprise. She'd been planning my introduction for months.

Also, and I'm not proud of this, there was a non-zero chance they'd think I was just a very articulate fox who'd lost his mind. Royal families could be weird about magical creatures just showing up and claiming bonds with their heirs.

For a moment, I'd even considered going back to the Mendea Academy. Azeri's mentor—Sylph, the one who'd taught me how to hide my presence completely from everyone—might have answers. Before the bond, before my two tails manifested their full power, the concealment techniques had been simple enough. But now? With the amplified strength of a bonded familiar, we'd been working together at the academy for months, perfecting new ways to mask my presence without suffocating my own power. Maybe she'd know something, some magical signature or tracking method I'd overlooked.

But that would take time. Time I didn't have. Every second Azeri was out there confused and terrified was a second too long.

I was about to say screw it and march into the throne room anyway when it happened.

The connection snapped back into place.

It hit me like a physical blow—a sudden rush of sensation that felt like ice water flooding my veins, followed immediately by searing heat. My legs buckled, and I actually stumbled, my paws sliding on the carpet as the world tilted sideways. The bond blazed back to life with such intensity that I could taste copper in my mouth, feel my heart hammering against my ribs. She was alive. She was alive. Our bond was—

Help… please… I don't… where…

The relief that had flooded through me curdled instantly into ice-cold horror, settling in my stomach like a stone.

That was Azeri's mental voice, but it was wrong. All wrong. Fragmented, confused, like she was trying to speak a language she'd forgotten. The mental touch felt weak, threadbare, nothing like the strong, confident presence I was used to. And underneath it, terror so profound it made my fur stand on end, every hair along my spine bristling with sympathetic fear.

Azeri! I sent back, trying to keep my own panic out of the projection. The effort of reaching out to her sent a sharp, stabbing pain through my temples. Azeri, it's me. It's Txiki. Where are you?

Who… who are you? How are you… in my head?

Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

The words came with a sensation like cold fingers trailing down my spine, accompanied by a dizziness that wasn't mine. Her confusion bled through the link like poison, mixed with fear and something else—pain that throbbed in waves, making me wince.

You don't remember me? My mental voice came out smaller than I intended, barely a whisper across the bond. Azeri, I'm your familiar. Your friend. We've been bonded since you were twelve years old.

I don't… I can't… Her confusion bled through the link, mixed with fear and something else. Pain that pulsed with each heartbeat, sharp and insistent. My head hurts. Everything hurts. I don't know how to… how are you doing this?

She didn't know how to mind-speak. Azeri, who could hold mental conversations with me while simultaneously conducting diplomatic negotiations, didn't know how to use our bond.

What in the frozen hells had happened to her?

Listen to me, I sent, forcing calm into my mental voice even though I wanted to howl. The effort of maintaining the connection was making my head pound, a pressure building behind my eyes. I'm coming to get you. Just hold on. Can you tell me what you see around you?

Dark. Cold. Stone. Each word came with a shiver I could feel through the bond, her body's trembling transmitted directly to my consciousness. I'm… I'm tied up. I can't move my hands. Her mental voice cracked, and I felt the phantom sensation of rope biting into skin, the numbness of restricted circulation. I'm scared. I don't understand what's happening.

Rage, pure and incandescent, flooded through me. My claws extended fully, digging into the carpet. Heat built in my chest, magic crackling along my fur like static electricity. Someone had taken my person. Someone had hurt her, done something to her mind, and left her bound and terrified in the dark.

I was going to make them regret every decision that had led to this moment.

But first, I had to find her.

I latched onto our connection, following it like a golden thread through the ether. The sensation was like following a rope hand over hand, each mental pull bringing a flash of cold, of darkness, of stone. It led down, down, down—beneath the palace, into the old dungeons that hadn't been used in decades. Of course. Because apparently, we were living in a bad melodrama now.

I'm coming, I told her, pushing warmth and reassurance through the bond even though my own heart was racing. Don't be afraid. Well, be a little afraid because you're in a dungeon and that's objectively terrifying, but don't be afraid of me. I'm the sassy white fox who's about to commit several murders on your behalf.

I don't understand—

You will. Just… hold on.

I gathered my power, feeling it crackle through my fur like lightning, each hair standing on end with the charge. My two tails began to glow, heat building at their base and spreading outward. Teleportation wasn't my favorite—it always left me vaguely nauseous and with my tail fluffed up like I'd stuck it in a light socket—but desperate times and all that.

The world twisted, compressed, and then snapped back into focus.

The smell hit me first, so overwhelming I nearly gagged. Damp stone, yes, but also mildew thick enough to taste, the metallic tang of old iron from rusted chains, and underneath it all, blood—fresh enough to still be wet, mixed with the salt of sweat and tears. Not a lot of blood, but enough to make my hackles rise, enough to paint a picture I didn't want to see. The air was thick and cold, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones and settled there, radiating from stone walls that hadn't seen sunlight in decades. The dungeon was exactly as awful as I'd imagined—all cold stone walls that seemed to absorb what little light existed, rusted chains hanging from walls like skeletal fingers, and the kind of darkness that felt deliberate. Malicious. A darkness that pressed against my eyes even as they adjusted, that carried weight and intent.

The temperature was at least twenty degrees colder than the palace above, cold enough that I could see my breath misting in the air. The floor beneath my paws was rough stone, uneven and damp, with moisture that seeped through my fur and chilled my paw pads.

And there, in the center of the cell, was Azeri.

My heart, which I'd been pretty sure had stopped twelve hours ago, cracked clean in half.

She was on the floor, her silver hair matted and tangled with what looked like dried blood, the strands stuck together in clumps. Her beautiful dark skin was marred with bruises—purple and yellow and green, some fresh, some already fading—across her cheekbone, along her jaw, down her arms. Her hands were bound behind her back with rough hemp rope that had rubbed her wrists raw, the skin there angry and red, weeping in places where the fibers had cut deep. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, each exhale visible in the cold air. She was shivering, her whole body trembling with cold and shock and fear, her muscles locked in tension that had to be agonizing after hours of being bound.

Her violet eyes—those eyes that usually sparkled with mischief and intelligence—were wide with confusion and fear, the pupils dilated in the darkness. When she looked at me, there was no recognition. None at all. Just the blank, terrified stare of someone who'd woken up in a nightmare and couldn't find their way out.

"What… what are you?" she whispered, her voice hoarse and cracked, like she'd been screaming. Or crying. Or both.

I wanted to make a joke. Something sassy and irreverent to cut through the horror of this moment. But for once in my very long life, the words wouldn't come.

Instead, I padded forward slowly, my paws silent on the cold stone, keeping my movements gentle and non-threatening. "I'm Txiki," I said aloud, my voice coming out rougher than usual, catching in my throat. "I'm your familiar. Your friend. And I'm going to get you out of here."

"A talking fox," she said faintly, her breath hitching. "I'm hallucinating. I must have hit my head."

"You did hit your head, apparently, because you don't remember me. But I'm very real, and very annoyed that someone thought they could do this to you." I circled her, examining the ropes. They were tied with professional efficiency, the knots tight and deliberate, which told me this wasn't some random kidnapping. This was planned. "Also, for the record, I told you not to go out with your half-sister. But did you listen? No. Because you never listen."

"My half-sister?" Azeri's brow furrowed, the movement making her wince as it pulled at the bruise on her temple. "I have a half-sister?"

Oh, this was bad. This was so much worse than I'd thought.

"Memory loss," I muttered, more to myself than to her. "Magical interference, maybe? Or trauma? Could be both. Fantastic. Just fantastic." I looked up at her, trying to project confidence I didn't feel. "Okay, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to get these ropes off you, and then we're going to figure out what happened to your brain. And then—and this is the part I'm really looking forward to—we're going to find whoever did this and introduce them to some very creative forms of suffering."

"You're insane," Azeri said, but there was a hint of something in her voice. Hope, maybe. Or just desperation.

"I prefer 'charmingly unhinged,'" I corrected, using my teeth to work at the knots. The rope was rough against my tongue, tasting of hemp and mildew and something bitter—probably whatever they'd used to drug her. My teeth caught on the fibers, pulling and worrying at the knots until they began to loosen. "And you usually agree with me, so the fact that you don't remember that is just adding insult to injury."

The ropes fell away with a final tug, dropping to the stone floor with a soft thud. Azeri immediately brought her hands forward, rubbing at her wrists. I could see the raw marks where the bindings had cut into her skin, the flesh there swollen and tender, already starting to bruise. Her fingers trembled as she touched the wounds, and I heard her sharp intake of breath at the pain.

"Can you stand?" I asked.

She tried, but her legs buckled immediately, muscles cramping after hours of being bound in one position. I was there in an instant, pressing against her side to steady her, my fur soft against her bare arm. She was so cold, her skin like ice where it touched me. She looked down at me, confusion still clouding her eyes, but her hand came to rest on my back, fingers tangling in my fur for balance.

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because you're mine," I said simply, feeling the warmth of her palm seep through my fur to my skin. "You've been mine since you were a stubborn twelve-year-old who found me injured in the forest and refused to leave until I was healed. You bonded with me, fed me, argued with me, and made me care about someone other than myself for the first time in three centuries. So yes, I'm helping you. Even if you don't remember any of it."

Something flickered in her eyes. Not recognition, not yet. But something. Her fingers tightened in my fur, holding on like I was the only solid thing in a world that had stopped making sense.

"I want to remember," she whispered, her breath warm against my ear.

"You will," I promised, even though I had no idea if that was true. "But first—" I stopped as her hand gripped my fur tighter, her fingers digging into my fur with sudden urgency.

Something was wrong.