The royal vault was cold.

Seren stood before the iron door, the key heavy in her hand. Behind her, Kael waited with a torch. He had insisted on coming. Not because he didn’t trust her, but because he didn’t trust the dark.

"You don’t have to do this alone," he said.

"I’m not alone. You’re here."

"That’s not what I meant."

She turned the key. The lock groaned. The door swung open.

The vault smelled of old stone and older secrets. Shelves lined the walls, filled with artifacts from centuries of royal history. Crowns. Swords. Scrolls. And there, on the bottom shelf, wrapped in oilcloth, was the old healer’s journal.

Seren picked it up. The leather was cracked. The pages were yellow.

"Back to the study," she said.

She read until dawn.

The old healer’s handwriting was cramped, obsessive, full of crossed-out formulas and desperate scribbles. But slowly, patterns emerged.

*Ritual 1: The Blooding. Requires the consumption of wolf blood during a full moon. Subject may transform temporarily but cannot maintain shift. Death rate: 70%.*

*Ritual 2: The Binding of Shadows. Requires a wolf to willingly share its life force through a forbidden incantation. Subject may gain wolf senses but not form. Death rate: 85%. Subject’s mind often deteriorates.*

*Ritual 3: The Ancient Rite of Unification. No details available. Referenced in texts from the First Age. Supposedly allowed humans to become wolf without bond. I have never found a complete description.*

Seren set down the journal.

"The Ancient Rite of Unification," she murmured.

Kael looked up from his chair, where he had been pretending to sleep. "What?"

"There’s a ritual. An ancient one. The healer never found the full description, but he references it. A way for humans to become wolf without a bond."

"If he never found it, it’s probably lost."

"Probably." Seren stood. "But I’m not going to assume."

She sent messengers across the kingdom.

To the southern universities. To the eastern monasteries. To the northern tribes who kept old ways alive. To every scholar, every historian, every keeper of forgotten knowledge.

*Seeking any records of human-to-wolf transformation from the First Age. Ancient rites. Lost rituals. Lives depend on it.*

The replies came slowly.

Most scholars had nothing. Some sent fragments—partial references, broken texts, legends that were probably myths. A few promised to search their archives. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

But one letter stood out.

It came from a monastery in the far west, high in the mountains where wolves and humans had once lived together. The note was short, written in a shaky hand.

*We have something. Come quickly. The abbot is old, and the knowledge dies with him.*

Seren went west.

She took Kael and a small guard. Theron stayed behind to manage intelligence. Aeron held the capital.

The journey took three days. The mountains were cold, even in spring. The monastery clung to a cliff face like a bird’s nest.

The abbot met them at the gate. He was ancient, bent, his eyes clouded with age. But his voice was clear.

"The queen," he said. "I did not think you would come."

"People are dying," Seren replied. "I had to."

The abbot nodded and led her inside.

The monastery library was small but old.

Scrolls that had not been touched in centuries. Books bound in leather that crumbled at the edges. The abbot pointed to a table where a single scroll lay unrolled.

"The Rite of Unification," he said. "What remains of it."

Seren leaned over the scroll.

The writing was ancient—older than the kingdom, older than the hierarchy that had divided wolves from humans. The language was difficult, but she could read enough.

*The Rite requires three things: a human who seeks transformation, a wolf who consents to share blood, and a sacred space where the veil between forms is thin. The ritual must be performed at the turning of the seasons—spring or autumn equinox. The human must drink the wolf’s blood while speaking the names of their ancestors. The wolf must speak the names of theirs.*

*If the rite succeeds, the human becomes wolf. Not through bond. Through choice.*

*If it fails, both die.*

Seren read the passage twice.

"The death rate?"

The abbot shook his head. "The scroll does not say. But the rite was abandoned for a reason. Too many deaths. Too much grief."

"Has anyone ever succeeded?"

"Yes." The abbot’s voice was quiet. "Once. In the First Age. A human woman who wanted to protect her children. She became wolf. She lived. Her children survived."

"And then?"

"The wolves killed her. They called her abomination. They burned the records of the rite—or tried to. This scroll survived because a monk hid it."

Seren stared at the ancient words.

*The rite requires a wolf who consents to share blood.*

Not a bond. Not mates. Just a wolf willing to help.

*That changes everything.*

She returned to the palace with the scroll.

Bryn examined it for hours, comparing it to the old healer’s notes. The transformation institute scholars gathered around her.

"It could work," Bryn said finally. "Theoretically. But the death rate is still high. And we don’t know the long-term effects."

"The humans who are dying now have no alternatives. At least this gives them a chance."

"A chance to die in a different way."

Seren met her eyes. "A chance to *live*. That’s more than they have now."

Bryn was silent.

"I’m not proposing we offer this to everyone," Seren continued. "I’m proposing we study it. Refine it. Make it safer. The First Age wolves didn’t have our knowledge. Our healers. Our understanding of magic. Maybe we can succeed where they failed."

"Maybe." Bryn picked up the scroll. "I’ll need resources. Scholars. Test subjects; willing ones, fully informed of the risks."

"You’ll have them."

That night, Seren stood on the balcony.

"I found a way," Seren said to the darkness. "Not a safe way. Not a certain way. But a way."

The bond hummed.

*You did,* Aeron sent. *You always do.*

*We haven’t succeeded yet.*

*You’ve taken the first step. That’s enough for tonight.*

She turned and walked back inside.

The research would continue. The rite would be studied. And someday; not tomorrow, not next year, but someday, transformation would be safe.

For Mara. For Henrik. For all the desperate humans who saw no other path.

She would make it so.