Naria's Wolves

ChapterTwo-Episode Four

Inara didn’t want her curiosity to get the best of her, but it was already clawing at her chest, a physical ache. She slowed her pace, her house shoes scuffing against the dark stone as she debated. He’d proven to be nothing but a thorn in her side, and she had half a mind to keep walking until she reached the safety of her balcony.

“I’m an i***t,” she murmured softly. She stopped, the windless silence of the campus magnifying the sound of her own breath. Slowly, she turned to face him. “I heard about what happened... two years ago,” she called softly.

She was done fighting. She was done with the masks. She just wanted the truth.

Ryker made his way toward her with a slow, deliberate gait. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of that same worn-out leather jacket, his eyes fixed on his scuffed shoes. “And just what is it you heard, Princess?” he asked, dragging his tired eyes up to meet her blazing gaze.

“That you were snooping where you didn’t belong.” She couldn’t help the jab, but it lacked its usual bite. It was a soft test, a bridge between them.

“Nobody belongs down here,” he whispered, shaking his head. “But everyone is too wrapped up in their own miserable lives to see it.” His smoky green eyes looked haunted, reflecting the dim fairy lights in a way that made Inara’s heart skip.

“Do you always have to speak so cryptically?” she asked, tilting her head. “It’s okay to just... say what you mean. It wouldn’t hurt, you know.”

“The things I know,” he whispered, closing the distance until he was just inches away. He cleared his throat, his gaze boring into her curious golden eyes with an intensity that made her nostrils flare. He smelled like woodsmoke and fresh linen—scents that shouldn't exist in a world of filtered air and stone. “The things I know would tear your precious little world apart.”

“How?” Inara breathed. She felt like she was playing with a live wire, the heat radiating from his body making the thin air feel heavy.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He offered a sad, jagged smile. “Of course they would put you at the top of the pyramid. You really have no idea what’s happening, do you? You’re the perfect cover.”

“Ryker,” she growled, her frustration bubbling back up. “Just tell me. What is happening in Naria?”

“I can’t,” he whispered, the shadows of the granite trees deepening around them. “I’ve already said too much.”

He began to back away, and Inara wanted to snarl. Why was everyone in her life a gatekeeper to her own reality?

“Then why say anything to me at all?” she demanded, glaring at him. “If you can’t tell me, why risk speaking to me? Why risk Silas finding you again?”

“You’ll see it, in time,” he sighed, his voice trailing off into the stagnant air. “If I told you now, you’d bolt. No one would believe you, just like no one believed me. But you... you have a chance to bring it all down, if you look long enough.”

He continued to retreat, heading toward the dark silhouettes of the boys' dorms.

“Will you ever tell me more?” she called out, standing alone on the broken stone river. She had more questions now than when she’d left her balcony, but Ryker had given her more than her family had in a lifetime.

“When you know... come find me,” came his cryptic reply.

With a final, lingering look, he turned and sauntered off into the night, leaving Inara in the silence of a forest that no longer felt like a sanctuary.

~*~

Inara sat before the triptych mirror of her vanity, the triple reflection offering three versions of a girl she barely recognized. It had finally become clear why her mother had waited until tomorrow to hold the gala, and why the secrecy had been so absolute. One reason was purely her own speculation, but the other was clearly, coldly planned.

Today was Evolution Day—or "Reckoning Day," depending on who you asked. It was the anniversary of the day humanity had "solved" its own extinction by merging with the animal kingdom, retreating underground to live longer, healthier, and more predatory lives.

Inara remembered being a child, staring up at the sky as it turned into one massive holographic slide show. The presentation had wowed the kids, spinning the tale of their survival into a mythic victory. Now, she realized it was probably just another layer of the mask.

“You seem to be in better spirits this week,” Scarlett mused. She was focused on pinning Inara’s silver hair into an elaborate, shimmering bun. At the center sat a diamond-encrusted piece depicting a running wolf.

Down here, diamonds were common—it was pearls that were the true rarity. With no oceans or rivers to provide them, every pearl was a curated, lab-grown masterpiece that took years to finish. The singular, massive pearl hanging from Inara’s neck was worth more than she could comprehend. Her mother had given it to her that morning; to Inara, it felt less like a gift and more like a peace offering for a betrayal.

“I’ve come to accept what is, I guess,” Inara said, her voice steady. She kept her gaze fixed on her reflection, hiding the spark of defiance in her golden eyes. She wasn't accepting her fate; she was embracing the insanity just long enough to get the access she needed.

Behind her, the perfectly planned outfit hung like armor. The silk blouse shimmered in a crème-gold that turned her eyes to molten ore. The pristine white dress pants were sharp and commanding, paired with gold heels that boasted lethal red bottoms.

“I’m sorry... about the other night,” Scarlett confessed softly. She began applying the final touches of makeup, her movements delicate as she worked to enhance Inara’s features. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

“It’s okay,” Inara sighed, closing her eyes and letting her sister work. “We’ve all been under a lot of stress.”

The makeup felt like war paint. As Scarlett darkened the edges of her eyes to make the gold pop, Inara thought of Ryker’s words. The perfect cover. She would be exactly what they wanted: the beautiful, silent, silver-haired face of the empire.

“Still, I wanted to apologize. It isn’t fair of me to expect so much of you, especially after dropping a bombshell like that,” Scarlett said, her eyes meeting Inara’s in the mirror.

“Apology accepted,” Inara said softly. She reached up and squeezed her sister’s hand for a moment, her smile finally reaching her eyes. “At least Father still speaks to you,” she jested, trying to inject a bit of light into the heavy, sterile air of the dressing room.

“Well, he speaks to the boys,” Scarlett corrected with a faint, tired smile. She gently turned Inara around to face the mirror for the final reveal, having helped her slip into her outfit for the day. “But he and I have had a rather... strained relationship lately.”

Inara winced, her golden eyes clouding. “I don’t want you at odds with him because of me, Scarlett. Especially not now.”

But Scarlett shook her head, her silver curls bouncing. “I confronted him. I told him exactly what I thought about the way he’s been treating you—the flouting, the coldness. He spluttered like a dying bulb, turned a deep, concerning shade of red, and stormed out of the room.”

Inara couldn't help it; a genuine giggle escaped her at the visual of their dignified, terrifying father losing his composure so completely.

“We haven’t really spoken since,” Scarlett added softly, though she didn't seem particularly bothered by it. She smoothed the crème-gold silk of Inara’s blouse. “I’m sure he’ll come around in time. He usually does once he realizes he can't win an argument against his own daughters.”

Inara looked at her reflection—the shimmering gold, the pristine white, and the hauntingly beautiful pearl. She looked like a leader. She looked like a Grey. But as she stood there with Scarlett, she felt like something else entirely: an Ashwood with a secret, and a sister with a plan.

The streets were transformed into a living museum of their own DNA. Evolution Day always felt like a fever dream: holographic hunters stalked and played in the closed roads, innocently "chasing" citizens who laughed and ducked out of the way. Bright, colorful birds flitted from rooftops, their synthetic songs echoing through the stagnant air. Toward the southern districts, the imagery shifted to prey—rabbits, mice, and deer floated through the crowds, pursued by children in a harmless, predetermined game of predator and prey.

It was a day of liberation, sweet with the scent of hot cakes and heavy with the collective buzz of Naria’s celebration. But for Inara, the heart of the festival was the looming silhouette of the Science Tower. The Tower overlooked the city like a silent sentry, draped in giant ribbons of animal print that hung lifelessly in the windless atmosphere.

“What a day, as always,” Inara’s mother cooed. She walked with a regal, effortless grace, her white silk blouse making her silver hair and golden eyes pop against the neon backdrop of the city. She was draped in diamond accents—the common gems of the deep—looking every bit the matriarch.

“What a day, indeed,” Scarlett murmured. She looked lethal in a blazing red tank top and a sharp black pencil skirt, her glossy pumps adding a commanding six inches to her height.

Inara walked between them, the crème-gold silk of her own outfit shimmering like a beacon. To any onlooker, they were a perfect, united front—the Ashwood women flanked by the men in their sharp, dark suits. But Inara could feel the cracks. The air between them was thick with the things they weren't saying.