Deborah's POV
As I regained consciousness, I realized I was being carried on Matthew's back.
The familiarity of it left me momentarily disoriented, as if I had been transported back to the past.
The last time he carried me, his cold and distant demeanor had stung deeply.
But this time, although he remained silent, I could feel his warmth seeping through—a quiet reassurance I hadn't felt in so long.
I didn't speak, choosing instead to rest quietly against him, savoring the warmth that his presence brought.
His body felt warmer than I remembered, his muscles more defined, and his steps steadier and stronger.
Even though my back was still sore from my injuries and I had picked up fresh scrapes from the earthquake, every step Matthew took was careful, as if he were afraid of jostling me and aggravating my wounds.
John had also sustained a few minor injuries, but as a werewolf, his healing was astonishingly quick. In fact, his wounds were closing even faster than before his transformation.
As we journeyed, the werewolves kept a tight formation.
John took the lead, acting as the vanguard, while Matthew and I were surrounded in the center. Alex and Jac held positions on either side of us, providing protection, while Jim and Mike guarded the rear, constantly scanning our surroundings for any signs of danger.
Each member was positioned with innate coordination, as if this pack mentality had been ingrained in them from birth.
Matthew avoided paths where mutated creatures might lurk, taking every precaution to keep me from further harm. Even when we did encounter a creature, the others shielded me so effectively that I was never in any real danger.
Despite the taxing journey, my strength gradually returned, and my wounds slowly began to heal.
As time passed, we drew closer to Tirfothuinn.
But with each step, a growing unease settled in my chest.
Tirfothuinn was protected by Sanctifolium, a barrier that prevented me, as a witch, from entering, leaving me in an awkward position.
Finally, after days of travel, we arrived at the shores opposite Tirfothuinn just as the sun was setting. The lake's waters lapped gently against the boats moored at the shore, seemingly prepared specifically for crossings.
The seven of us quickly boarded a small boat. Matthew took the oars, and as he rowed us across the water, the fading light cast a golden glow over the lake's surface.
As we neared Tirfothuinn, a sharp intake of breath escaped me.
The beach was pocked with deep craters and scorched patches, as though it had been struck by heavy bombardment.
This wasn't the kind of destruction mere mutated creatures could cause.
A chilling thought crossed my mind: only the advanced technology from the Sky Cities could unleash this level of devastation.
A sense of dread filled me. Could Tirfothuinn have been attacked?
Matthew had once told me that Sanctifolium completely shielded the area from external forces, yet the battle scars on the beach left me uneasy. The werewolves now stood guard outside the Sanctifolium barrier, ensuring Tirfothuinn's safety.
Finally, our boat touched the shore of Tirfothuinn. The werewolves awaited us, their expressions solemn and tense as they focused on Matthew, a mix of anxiety and hope in their eyes.
Matthew gently lowered me down, helping me to stand steady before he joined the others, who greeted him with respect, each werewolf bowing to their white wolf Alpha before briefing him on the situation.
One of them, a werewolf around Matthew's age, stood at the forefront, meeting us with a steady gaze. He seemed to have taken temporary leadership, managing things in Matthew's absence.
Matthew immediately questioned him. "Esa, what happened here?"
Esa's brows furrowed as if still troubled by recent events. He spoke slowly, "About two weeks ago, a group suddenly descended upon us. They attacked Tirfothuinn without warning."
"Attacked? What kind of weapons did they use?" Matthew asked in surprise.
Esa shook his head, his confusion apparent. "We couldn't tell. Their weapons were unlike anything we'd ever seen, incredibly powerful. We couldn't stand a chance; their strength was overwhelming."
A chill ran through me as I murmured, "That's modern technology. They're from the Sky Cities."
Esa's eyes widened in shock. "Modern technology? You mean more advanced than FDB's weapons? How could they possess such power?"
I nodded, my tone heavy. "FDB's weapons are just their castoffs, outdated equipment."
Matthew regarded me with a blend of confusion and suspicion. "Deb, how do you know all of this? What exactly is the Sky Cities?"
I knew the time for secrecy had passed.
If the truth remained hidden, Tirfothuinn's future would only become more perilous.
The people behind the Sky Cities clearly had no intention of letting the underground inhabitants escape their grasp, especially those who mined Falshi under such harsh conditions. These rulers wouldn't willingly lose their source of resources.
I took a steady breath, keeping my voice calm. "The Sky Cities is exactly what it sounds like. It's a city that truly exists above us, suspended high in the sky."
The werewolves around us stared, wide-eyed, struggling to process this concept. Someone muttered, "A city in the sky? How is that even possible? Do they fly like birds up there?"
I glanced at Matthew and the others, understanding that this was a difficult truth for them to grasp, but the Sky Cities' technology far surpassed anything known in the underground cities or Tirfothuinn.
Turning back to Esa, I asked, "And then?"
Esa continued, "After they left, their leader warned us that they would return."
Matthew repeated in shock, "Aircraft? They can freely travel through the sky?"
To those from the underground, the technology of the Sky Cities was beyond comprehension.
Life underground was primitive by comparison, with limited access to even basic electricity. Much of daily life remained in the past, while only 1% of Falshi's energy reached the underground cities; the remaining 99% powered the Sky Cities.
In contrast, the Sky Cities' aircraft, advanced weaponry, and other innovations seemed to belong to another world, a power that the underground residents couldn't comprehend, like a civilization from a different universe.
"Was Tirfothuinn damaged?" I couldn't help but just ask.
Esa shook his head, a glimmer of relief in his eyes. "Tirfothuinn sustained some damage, but the residents are safe. However, Sanctifolium's protective barrier has been weakened. Initially, Sanctifolium held up against the attacks, but under the relentless assault, it began to falter."
Matthew let out a slight sigh of relief, though concern lingered in his gaze. "At least Sanctifolium served its purpose, and the people of Tirfothuinn are unharmed."
The werewolves around us exchanged relieved smiles. Despite the threat posed by such a powerful enemy, knowing that everyone inside Tirfothuinn was safe brought some comfort.
I, too, felt a small sense of relief.
Although Sanctifolium's barrier kept me from entering Tirfothuinn, it also kept out any external threats.
At least that brought some consolation.
However, knowing the Sky Cities' intentions, I doubted they would back down.
If they couldn't claim Tirfothuinn, they would try to destroy it. They needed to ensure the remaining residents of the underground cities continued mining Falshi and stayed under their control. After all, they had no intention of letting go of the people they had ruled for decades.
In the night, the beach was dotted with young werewolves, gathered in small groups, busy with their own tasks.
Fires flickered among them, casting a warm glow against the darkness.
A small group of werewolves huddled around a crackling fire, their voices low and steady as they spoke, the flickering flames casting warm, dancing shadows across their faces.
A tall werewolf was drawing a crude map in the sand, gesturing at the terrain with pride in his posture. His companions nodded as they listened, occasionally asking questions, while marking notes on their own maps.
Their focused exchange lent a sense of familiarity and camaraderie to the scene.
Nearby, a blond werewolf knelt on the sand, sketching something with his hands. His eyes were fixed on the moonlit waves, his friends watching in silent admiration. Occasionally, someone would whistle or crack a joke, sparking laughter.
Further away, a circle had formed where two werewolves tested their strength, clasping each other's hands, muscles taut under the moonlight. The onlookers clapped and cheered, their voices rising and falling with each shift in victory. Their expressions were full of youthful energy, alive and fearless.
Along the beach, werewolves on patrol moved with quiet vigilance. In pairs and trios, they paced back and forth, their steps light but swift. Their eyes scanned the surroundings with watchful alertness, pausing occasionally to murmur among themselves before resuming their duties. Moonlight fell on their shoulders, casting their figures in a proud, silent guard.
Now and then, a patrolling werewolf would approach the fire to exchange greetings, the one on duty rising to take over, with a nod and a pat on the shoulder. The brief interaction held an unspoken camaraderie before each returned to their task.
Just then, I felt a quiet presence at my side.
Turning, I saw it was…Matthew…