Feathers of the Forgotten

Smoke still curled from the scorched timbers when Nora stumbled over the corpse of her cousin. “Luca…" Her voice cracked, swallowed by the wind. The boy's amber eyes stared at nothing. His shift had never come. None of theirs had. A faint crunch behind her. She ducked behind the collapsed grain shed just as boots crushed charred earth. “They said the village was neutral," a young soldier murmured. "Defect wolves aren't neutral. They're unfinished," came a cold reply. "Orders were clear. No survivors." Nora didn't breathe. Through a crack in the planks, she saw them: six men in black armor, their shoulders etched with the silver Starblade insignia. At their center stood a boy—not much older than she was—yet they followed his every word. “Commander Cyrus," one said, handing over a bloodied scarf. “Found this near the elder's hut." Cyrus didn't blink. “Torch it all. Then report to central that Greywing no longer exists." A howl echoed—cut short. Nora bit her lip until it bled. The world spun. She'd hidden when the attack started. She hadn't screamed. Hadn't run. She'd waited. But waiting had cost her everything. Suddenly, one of the soldiers paused. His hound—a thick-necked beast with burn-scarred flanks—sniffed the air, then padded toward her hiding place. “Hey—he's got something." Panic surged. Nora crawled back, heart slamming. No escape. No weapons. The dog growled. Then— “There!" Rough hands yanked her out. She kicked, thrashed, screamed—but the men just laughed. “Human?" one asked, yanking back her hood to reveal her silver-grey hair. “Maybe a mixed-blood," another said. “She looks like a spy." “She's from the village," the youngest murmured. “Probably a defective." “Defect or not, protocol says detain for interrogation." “She's sixteen," someone argued. “Orders don't care about birthdays." “Enough." Cyrus's voice cut through them. “Chain her. She goes to Blackstone." He looked down at her, face unreadable. Nora met his gaze. Ice-blue eyes. No remorse. “You killed them," she spat. He didn't flinch. “I followed orders." She lunged, teeth bared. The soldiers wrestled her back. “Chain her," Cyrus repeated. “Use silver." The cuffs bit into her skin like frostbite. She didn't cry. As they dragged her to the transport wagon, the first flakes of snow began to fall. --- Iron bars rattled with every bump along the icy road. The wagon stank of sweat and old fear. Across from her sat a hunched man muttering to himself. Another prisoner coughed blood into his sleeve. Nora stared at her hands. Blood under her nails. Soot on her sleeves. Her wrists throbbed from the cuffs, but she welcomed the pain. It kept her awake. "Where'd they get you?" the muttering man asked suddenly. She said nothing. "Doesn't matter," he chuckled. "We all end up at Blackstone. Even the ones who don't howl." “I'm not a wolf," she whispered. He cackled. “Then you're worse. They hate what they can't explain." The wagon hit a rock. Pain flared through her side. She closed her eyes, forcing the village from her mind. Her mother's singing. Luca's laughter. The scent of herbs drying in the sun. Gone. All of it. "Names?" the guard outside barked. The mutterer answered with a slur of syllables. The guard paused at her cage. “You." She kept silent. “I said, name." “Go to hell." A fist slammed through the bars, splitting her lip. “She'll answer later," Cyrus's voice said from above. “Let the silence teach her." Nora pressed her tongue to the cut and tasted blood. --- That night, the wagon stopped at a pass surrounded by snow-laced cliffs. Guards built a fire. Prisoners were left shackled to posts, foodless. Nora sat rigid, silver cuffs anchoring her in place. Across the fire, Cyrus spoke with a junior officer. Wind carried the words. “She's not like the others," the officer said. “She's weak," Cyrus replied. “Won't last a week in Blackstone." “Then why bring her?" Silence. Nora stared at the flames. The silver insignia gleamed on his cloak. Her fingers curled into fists. She would remember that glint until her last breath. When the fire died and snow thickened, she leaned back against the post, whispering to herself. “I won't beg." The wind howled. “I won't betray them." Snow gathered on her lashes. “I won't forget." And somewhere beyond the mountains, Blackstone waited.