Page 191

"What. Is going. On?"

Veyr stepped back slightly, not out of retreat—but to give space. His eyes flicked to Hagan's,as if silently saying 'your move'.

Hagan scrubbed a hand through his cropped hair and exhaled slowly. He looked tired. Not just in body—but deep in the soul.

"I should've told you earlier," he said, voice rough with the weight of it. "I was trying to protect you. I should have known better."

Seren didn't soften.

"The land is dying," he said. "It started soon after you left."

He crossed to the table and leaned on it with both hands like he needed support just to speak the next words.

"We didn't notice at first. The bees were the first to go. Such a small thing could change everything, ya? Then the herds shifted. The riverbed cracked open like bone. The forest is so quiet now, it's unnatural."

Her breath hitched, but still she listened.

"There's been no new life," he added, softer now. "No cubs. No births. Every pregnancy has ended the same way."

He looked up at her.

"It's like the earth has given up."

She still didn't speak—but her posture changed slightly, a tilt to her shoulders, a narrowing of her eyes like she was taking it in but also bracing for worse.

"There've been deaths since I left.," he said. "Warriors—found along the border. Just like before. No sign of struggle. No warning. Just... gone."

Now her expression cracked—barely—but enough.

"And yesterday," he said, his voce had a wobble which she had never heard before, "my father walked into an ambush. He's alive. But barely. Jorik too."

He hesitated. "I have to go back. Veyr and I—we'll leave by nightfall. We need to secure the borders. Find out what's really happening. Before it's too late."

A pause.

"I was going to tell you after," he said. "After I came back. I didn't want to drag you into this. Not again."

Her voice came, thin as thread. "But it's my tribe too. It is my forest too"

He met her gaze fully this time. "I know."

Seren stood there with her arms folded tightly across her chest as if trying to contain the storm building inside her. Her voice, when it came, was barely a whisper.

"The tribe must hate me."

Hagan blinked. "What?"

She looked up, grey eyes stormy. "The forest was mine. In ways I cannot explain." Her voice cracked. "And I left. I didn't protect it. I didn't protect them. I abandoned everything."

"No," Hagan said quickly, stepping forward. "Seren, no one blames you for what you did."

Her laugh was soft and bitter. "They should."

"If anyone is to blame," he said, voice low and fierce, "it's me. And the tribe. I let them treat you like something sacred and burdensome at the same time. I let them push expectations on you that no one could live up to. And I—" His voice faltered. "I didn't fight for you when I should have. You were never meant to carry it all alone."

She didn't answer right away.

But the hurt in her eyes shifted, just a little.