The prisons hadn't gotten any more inviting in Angel's absence.

At least she knew now how the Shadewylves had got her in there. The Glitterwylf had followed them down here, her magic carving away the bars with a crash that felt unnecessarily deafening. Montasir might have called her Faye, but in Angel's crushed, fearful state, her ears had lost the ability to focus, and so it could easily have been something entirely different.

Then, with a single flick of her pink tail, the bars had risen to seal them all in once more. Thea had always performed plenty of Glitter magic for all the Twilytra to see, but the ease at which this Faye shifted the rock held a certain fascinating quality.

Not that Angel cared; not then, and certainly not now. Now, she was watching the sun creep ever further across her fur, revealing another beautifully bright and clear summer's day. Another day she was missing, trapped far below the earth's surface.

It was midday now, perhaps even tipping into the afternoon. Aside from a depressingly short conversation through the wall with Fiammetta, she hadn't moved from her current position. The cold of the stone was beginning to numb her flank.

There was no magic rock-carving tool in here anymore. No Toivo coming to save her. Only endless rock and dust, the march of the bulky guard outside, and the single lantern, relit and glowing persistently in the corner.

Her mind began to drift. From her mind's recesses, hidden for days underneath fear and hatred, emerged the blue-green shimmer of Morgan's coat. She recalled him running, vanishing into the forest as she was pulled away by dark and fangs. With all her heart, she hoped that he had managed to escape, and that he was safe now. He had to be safe now.

She didn't know why, but a part of her cared more for his survival than her own.

Dawn, too. Was she safe? Angel was sure she was - if anything, she was good at staying hidden. She'd managed it longer than any of the other Twilytra, and had kept every one of them concealed as she discovered them. Hopefully she'd managed to keep Morgan safe.

And Alvis, too, her mind hissed, and she was suddenly flooded with guilt for her lack of care for the Thunderwylf Twilytra. He was so easy to forget. She suspected he liked it that way, since he always seemed to keep to himself, but it didn't make her feel any less bad. She prayed for his safety, too. She prayed that at least some of the Twilytra would survive this.

While she waited to die, prayer seemed like a productive activity.

After a long, dragging morning of heavy silence, the tap of pawsteps shot her head up so fast it made her vision sway. Allowing a few seconds of recovery, she paused, before rising fully and drifting to the bars as the steps grew louder.

Everything echoed in here. It made it difficult to pinpoint exactly where the sounds came from, but when she tilted her head to the left, she could just about catch a glimpse of two dark shapes emerging from the tunnel. Forcing herself forward, she strained to see through the bars, anxious for an identification.

Then she recognised them both, and her breath caught in her throat.

Grey eyes. They were the first thing she saw, for they drew all attention to them like magnets, and then instantly made her wish that she could look away.

Yet she couldn't help but stare. The prisons seemed an odd place for the wolf in charge to visit.

But it wasn't his appearance that made her gasp, staggering backwards. It was the wolf beside him, and the colour of his eyes, glinting in the pooling lamplight.

Blue.

Angel had never seen a wolf with blue eyes, not before him. They always shone with hope and fierce determination. She had thought that she would never see them again, that the light had been sliced from them, but now they shone clearly before her. Right beside the wolf she expected should be killing him.

Breathing shallow, she crept to the bars again, observing Toivo's focused stare. His eyes didn't shine as they had when she'd seen him fall in the battle. They seemed darkened, as if the dim lighting had reduced their colour to a deep navy.

He kept step just behind Montasir, his ears twitching with a nervousness she'd begun to attribute only to him. His head was never held upright, and instead tilted downwards slightly. Angel figured a weight kept his gaze down and ears forward. She wondered whether it was the weight of destiny.

A spark of warmth lit her heart. Destiny. The wolf they'd worked so hard to protect truly was alive. It wasn't over yet.

Angel tracked his progress as he fully emerged from the tunnel - a slow march to mirror Montasir's rather than the rushed scamper he'd taken the first time she'd watched him walk along this corridor. The difference in his posture - and his company - did unnerve her slightly, but she shook the rogue thoughts away. This was merely a different tactic from the last rescue. It seemed their destined wolf could pretend better than she would have expected.

A Shadewylf spy. Not the role she would have guessed of him, but it worked all the same. It kept him alive, and if he had more tricks hidden beneath his claws, it might keep the Twilytra alive, too.

Just before they reached Thea's cell, Montasir halted, sending Toivo stumbling beside him. He quickly righted himself and followed the gesturing flick of the general's tail.

"Here lies the answer to your question," Montasir said, his cold gaze sweeping the row of cells. "It would have been easy enough to kill your Twilytra friends, but we chose instead to spare them. The prison is merely a precaution, for you know what they would do should we allow them to escape."

Toivo's blue eyes skipped along the corridor, surprise widening them as he found the proof to confirm those words. A touch of relief, too, that allowed the light to glint in his eyes briefly. Less relief than Angel might have hoped for, though she presumed he was hiding his full joy at seeing them in an effort to keep up the pretense.

She waited for a small sign - eye contact, even an acknowledging glance in her direction. Something to let her know of the pup beneath the spy. But his gaze only slid by, seeing them but not truly looking, his character remaining eerily realistic.

Angel's hope faltered. A coil of chilling cave air slid down her spine, reminding her of her initial mistrust of Toivo. The evil pooling in the blackened colour of his coat. Spy or not, she couldn't deny the part of her that wanted to call his act betrayal.

Turning his head from the cells, Toivo nodded, his movements a little dazed. He blinked a few times, gaze hardening, before shaking his snout and looking up at Montasir. "All the Wylfrost, too?"

Montasir dipped his snout, tail flicking out again. "All of them. We may be ruthless, Toivo, but we do not kill needlessly."

A hissing growl slipped from Angel's throat in response to the lies. The image of Miyuki's body still lingered in her mind, and it was for her and all the fallen Icewylves that she let her fangs flash in Montasir's direction. He didn't even glance over.

After a moment, she pulled her fangs in again, restraining her anger. It was pointless. The last thing she wanted to do was give Montasir a reason to kill her early, not now she could reach for hope of rescue.

Fiammetta, however, did not agree. A bright light danced across the corridor, firelight flashing with furious fierceness. "Lies," snarled a familiar voice from the next cell over.

The flames subsided as quickly as they had appeared. Fiammetta, along with the rest of them, was still recovering from the battle earlier. But they had the desired effect. Montasir strode over, glints of silver briefly illuminated in the fire before it vanished, to peer into the Flamewylf's cell.

Toivo padded over behind him, his head bowed, his eyes glazed with deep thought. At Montasir's voice, however, his head snapped up, ears pricking in high alert.

"You accuse me of lying?"

"I do." Fiammetta's voice was low, dangerously controlled, hissing with heated anger. Though Angel couldn't see her, they'd known each other long enough for her intense glare to be crystal clear. "Your soldiers killed innocent Icewylves today, General Montasir. Needlessly," she added, labouring over every syllable.

Angel expected Montasir to continue denying it. His fluid tone would wash over the detail, and his chilling stare would freeze Fiammetta's fire. But instead, he released a heavy sigh, briefly ducking his head in what might have been apology.

Not in Fiammetta's direction, though. His apology was clearly aimed sideways, angled right at Toivo.

They locked eyes. Is this true? Toivo seemed to ask silently, his blue eyes wide. Montasir lowered his snout again.

"She's right," Montasir said, his tone strangely remorseful. "We did kill a few Icewylves, Toivo. But not needlessly, as your Flamewylf friend says." There was the cold glare, discreet, perhaps too subtle for Toivo to even notice. His remorse was false. Angel felt it, and it only angered her more.

"Then why?" Toivo asked. The question sounded truly honest. Not the voice of a spy, but one of a wolf with genuine questions about his world. One who was perhaps seeing things a little differently.

No. He's our destiny pup. He's pretending. Stop discarding his well-earned trust.

"Some of my soldiers have developed something of a bloodthirst," Montasir said, the last word drooping with a sigh. "They think killing is the only way to win. But don't worry, Toivo," he said, fixing Toivo with a hard stare. "I will not let them hurt your old friends. Not unless absolutely necessary." Again, a sideways glare at Fiammetta, though it was more obvious.

Angel slid her attention from Montasir and studied Toivo's expression as he gazed up at Montasir. What she saw made the cell's chill grow, and the word spy fade ever more into mistrust.

He looked like a young pup staring up at their father - encapsulated in wonder, drinking up every word the Shadewylf general spoke. Utter belief shone within his eyes. It was something close to worship, and certainly a feeling Angel couldn't imagine faking.

Perhaps, some way or another, the wolf destined to win a war had switched sides right before her eyes.

Manipulation, hissed her mind. She was sure Montasir was capable of it. And Toivo really was only a pup - easily bent one way or another, chasing after blurred desires and half-formed ideas. Maybe the little runt Peltless within him hadn't only run from his home because of his Pelt. Maybe his past was darker than it appeared.

Her thoughts must have broken out into her expression, because Toivo shifted, discomfort pulling him away from Montasir. For the first time, his gaze properly locked onto Angel. A flicker of fire - lamplight or of Fiammetta's making, she wasn't sure - lit his eyes in the same bright way Angel was used to seeing them. Then he pulled away, and it was gone. Its impact remained, however.

"There was another wolf, too," Toivo said, his voice quieter, sagging with a sorrow that hadn't been there before. "A pup, not much older than me. A Thunderwylf."

Genuine shock flashed through Montasir. "I haven't seen any other wolf."

"Oh." Silence fell over them. Toivo scuffed his paws on the stone, jaw set, clearly debating something. When his head lifted again, he didn't look like the mirror of Montasir he had previously, nor the awe-filled follower. Just an uncertain pup, trying his best to make the right choice.

"Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?" he said to Montasir. "I need to..." The words tumbled away, though Angel's focused ears caught their muffled trail before they vanished for good. "Cut ties."

It wasn't clear whether Montasir also caught the words, but he nodded all the same. "Take all the time you need, Toivo. I'll be back in the training circle when you're ready to continue."

Quite what they were continuing, Angel could only guess at, and Montasir was striding away before she could study his expression. Not that the act would do any good. His eyes seemed to be permenantly either blank or dancing with something false.

Only once his steady pawsteps had faded away, even their resounding echoes gone completely, did Toivo speak. Two words. Whispered and soft, inaudible to the untrained ear.

"I'm sorry."

There was no doubting his allegiance. Not anymore. Raw, shining honesty shone from those blue eyes. This was no act; Montasir was long gone up the tunnel. This was a pure apology, for something he'd convinced himself he had to do.

Another snarl, paired with a flicker of flaming light, emerged from the neighouring cell. "So you really have joined them," Fiammetta hissed. "I should have known."

Her anger was mirrored in a similar snarl that came from the left. "I thought we could trust you, Toivo." Katana's voice rasped with pain, straining to release her sharp fury. "I let myself trust you."

But it was the furthest cell, left of Katana's, that delivered the final blow. A hiss weaker than the other two, but piercing its target with ease. "So much for destiny," said Thea.

Toivo visibly flinched.

Angel knew that she should be adding a growl of her own. This Shadewylf had led them all to put aside everything they'd been told as pups, everything they'd read in stories, and believe that he was not the evil like the rest of them. She'd forced herself to trust him, let herself be led by Dawn's prophecies of how great a hero he could be. Yet here he was, proving them all right.

But she couldn't bring herself to. Somehow, some part of Angel, a part fierce and strong enough to chase away the anger, felt a deep sympathy for the pup before her. She wouldn't blame him. She would blame every other Shadewylf, but her heart wouldn't let her blame him.

Her only input was respectful silence.

Whether it was only that silence, or he saw the softer look in her eyes, she couldn't be sure, but it was her that Toivo chose to train his gaze on. Though she said nothing, her lack of taunts or scolds seemed to provide some trickle of confidence, one that straightened his posture and placed narrowed determination in his eyes. When he spoke, he spoke only to her, for somehow he knew that only she would listen.

"I'm sorry," he said again, but the words were built much sturdier, his earlier meekness gone, "but this is what I have to do. It's safer this way."

"Safer how, exactly?" Katana snapped.

"I... I have a power." Toivo's paws knocked against one another, pads sliding across the stone floor. "It's stronger than the other Shadewylves. It makes me dangerous." Fear flickered darkly in his eyes. "I've seen what it can do. Only Montasir, and the others here, can teach me how to control it."

The crackling of fire whipping through the air provided the sound for Fiammetta's shake of the head. "They're lying to you, Toivo."

"They're not. I know," he said, each word growing harder. "But... but that's not all of it. I won't let things stay like this. Maybe once I can control my power, I can help Montasir stop the Shadewylves from being so evil. We can make things better."

We. Toivo believed that Montasir was entirely on his side. He hadn't seen the death that chilled the grey of that wolf's eyes, or the joyful glimmers at every thought of execution. He'd seen only what Montasir wished him to see.

Before anyone could say anything more, Toivo was moving away, his steps slow as he backed towards the tunnel. "I'm sorry," he said, for the final time. "I will make things better. I'll stop all this. Shadewylves don't have to be bad, and I'll prove it."

With that, he was turning and running, the glow of his eyes hidden once more.

Angel could only stare after him. She was deaf to the further growls of her comrades. She didn't hear Fiammetta yell after him, calling him a coward, demanding he return and face them again. All she could do was watch him run, until he was gone entirely, swallowed by the shadows that had now claimed his heart.

He was lost now, and so was his destiny. But perhaps not in the sinking way she had first thought.

His parting words replayed in her mind, over and over. Shadewylves don't have to be bad. I'll prove it. I'll stop all this.

It wouldn't happen. Montasir would twist him further, plunging him deep into dark and evil. He wouldn't be the hopeful pup she was seeing now, the final glimpse of him before he vanished forever. War would come as Dawn foresaw, and they would have to stop it themselves, without the chosen wolf of a goddess.

And yet she couldn't let the spark of hope slip away. Not just yet.

What Toivo spoke of wouldn't happen. But if it did, destiny might not be lost after all.