Page 137 of The Moonborn's Curse

A stylized emblem of a snarling wolf and a grinning badger framed the bottom corner.

Seren blinked. "A honeybadger?"

Talis chuckled. "Don't laugh. Those little bastards fight like they've got nothing to lose."

She held onto the flyer a moment longer than she meant to. Everything was new and unfamiliar.

It was a far cry from the forest—but not as far as she once thought. And through it all, the forest crept in.

It wasn't just noise.

The forest was still there—watching.

Vines crawled over broken brick. Wild trees clustered at the city's edge as if waiting for the concrete to crumble. The river, wide and moody, ran along the city's side like a wound dividing it from the wilder lands beyond.

But it wasn't the same.

The moment Seren stepped out of the car, her nose wrinkled. The river here didn't sing—it burned. The pollution curled up into her nostrils, acrid and wrong. She felt it like a buzz under her skin, an itch she couldn't scratch.

Still, she was fascinated.

Fast trains rumbled by on high tracks, and glowing underground signs led to deep, echoing tunnels full of people who didn't make eye contact. The smell of food and machinery, strong perfume and sweat clung to the air like smoke.

Talis had parked near a crumbling brick wall covered in ivy.

She took it in—graffiti, low-slung shops with flickering signs, a woman in a shawl waving incense at her front door. "Love potions & lavender salt," one banner read.

Shifters passed on the streets, lean and wild-eyed—construction workers, couriers, barbacks. She caught the flash of fangs in a laugh, a growl in greeting, the show of fur under shirtsleeves.

At one corner, a scene unfolded—a shifter with a wide frame and shaggy hair was being thrown out of a bar like a ragdoll. He landed with a heavy thud, groaned, and rolled.

A massive figure stood at the bar door, unmoving.

"That's a bear shifter," Talis said, not stopping. "Bouncer. Bartender. Depends on his mood.. he owns the place."

They kept walking.

Talis's apartment was in a worn red-brick building with iron balconies and no elevator. Inside, it was modest, and clean. A two bedroom, with thin walls and the smell of lemon-scented floor cleaner.

"This one's yours," he said, nudging open a door. "Are you hungry?"

Seren absently shook her head as she peeked in. A small bed. A window. A pile of blankets.

They looked at each other awkwardly. talis seemed ready to say something and then changed his mind.

"Get some rest," he said instead, rubbing the back of his neck.

She nodded. "Thanks, Talis."

That night, she didn't dream.

The next two days passed in quiet breaths.

She ate. Slept. Walked the uneven paths of the Shifter's Quarter in a borrowed hoodie and old sneakers. She wandered through alleys draped in incense smoke, past cluttered stalls selling bone charms and cracked amulets, her steps slow, her eyes always watching. She listened to the whispers in the wind from shifters as they passed her on the cobbled streets. There was a market three blocks away and a witch who gave her free saffron buns when she noticed the ink on Seren's forearm.

But even as the city pulled her forward, the past followed.

Thoughts of her old life crept in like wind through cracked windows—uninvited but impossible to ignore.

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