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Seren tilted her head, considering him. "Are you the storm?"

From the shadows, the crone's voice rasped, "No, child. But he is the storm's father."

A hush fell over them.

Seren frowned, absorbing the weight of those words. Her mother's fingers twitched slightly against her knee, but she remained silent.

Draken shifted his gaze to the crone, then back to Seren. "We are here because of promises made by the coven," he said simply.

Promises. The word slithered into her mind, curling around a growing fear she hadn't fully grasped until now.

Draken's voice was measured, steady. "Two days ago, your elder, Arken, came to me with an offer. Your people are vulnerable, threatened by the tribe from the southern hills—men who take, burn, and devour without remorse. That tribe is no more. In return, Arken made a pact."

Seren's breath hitched as she listened, her small hands curling in her lap to stop them from trembling.

"For your protection, " Draken continued his voice like low thunder. "Five of our unmated warriors have pledged to fight alongside your people as brothers, to train them and ready them against any threat. Second, a bride price—a payment in supplies and money to bind our fates. In exchange, we get," his gaze rested heavily on Seren, "you."

Her mother gasped, her body trembling beside her. Seren felt the weight of his words press down upon her chest. Aaren's hand tightened on her forearm.

"You are promised as my son's future mate, to secure the alliance between our people. You will remain steadfast to him," Draken finished.

Seren swallowed hard. The words felt distant, as though they were happening to someone else. She was meant to be a link between them, a bridge between two worlds. The burden settled onto her slim eight-year-old shoulders, heavier than she was prepared for.

She swallowed. "Does that mean... I have to leave with you?"

The question lingered in the cool air. Her mother stiffened beside her, her breath hitching. Even the warriors, still as statues, seemed to lean in slightly.

Draken held her gaze. "No."

A sigh of relief swept through her family. Her mother nearly collapsed against her father, hand tightening around Seren's.

Draken continued, "You will leave for Vargrheim when you turn twelve."

The tension did not fully dissipate, but there was comfort in knowing that the moment was not now.

The crone nodded. "She is not ready yet anyway."

Draken acknowledged this with the faintest of nods. "You will have time to acclimate yourself to our ways, to learn our language." His eyes never left Seren as he turned slightly and gestured to one of his men. "Rheon will be your teacher in our history and tongue."

A dark-haired warrior stepped forward, his piercing gaze studying her.

Seren nodded, though her head felt light as if she were in a dream.

The path before her had already been decided.

And there was no turning back now.

Chapter 13

Hagan

As the arrangements for Seren's betrothal were being finalized in the Eastern Province, life in the pack's stronghold continued as usual. Hagan and his friends were back in school, juggling their training in both human and wolf form alongside their regular studies. Their curriculum was rigorous—numerical studies, science, history, and even computer studies were essential, ensuring they could navigate both the human and the shifter world seamlessly.

Hagan sat at his desk, his chin resting on his knuckles, only half-listening to the lesson. His mind drifted as he connected to the tribe link, a mental tether allowing shifters to communicate wordlessly.

"Where do you think my father went?" Hagan asked, directing the thought toward Dain and Veyr.

"Probably some boring Alpha business," Dain responded lazily. "Meetings, discussions. That's us in the future. Yuck!"