Page 27

Seren

Seren sat curled on the window seat of her loft bedroom, the quilt pulled around her shoulders, the phone pressed tightly against her ear. The familiar warmth of her mother's voice drifted through the speaker, a bittersweet tether to a life that felt a world away.

"Mamma."

"My little one," her mother said, her voice thick with longing. "How are you? Are they treating you well?"

Seren forced a smile into her voice.

"The Oracle is very kind, Mamma. She takes care of me. All is well."

She could almost see her mother closing her eyes in relief, her voice softer now. "That's good, my heart. And how is your training? Have you made any friends?"

Seren hesitated for half a second too long.

"Vargrheim is very beautiful. There is still snow in the mountains in summer. The wolves are very kind," she lied. "They treat me well."

Her mother sighed, pleased. "And Hagan? Do you get on?"

Seren swallowed, staring at the moonlit cherry blossoms outside her window. An Owl hooted outside.

"Yes, Mamma. Hagan is...very friendly. Highclaw Draken and Lunara Astrid are very nice. They bought me a nice bag for my camera yesterday."

The words felt wrong. Hagan had been nothing but distant, resentful, and cruel in small, careful ways.

But her mother didn't need to know that .

"Your father asks about you," she continued, a rare softness in her voice when speaking of him. "Aaren too. They miss you."

Seren closed her eyes, her throat tightening.

"And Talis? Niva?"

"Talis is so clever. He has got some kind of scholarship with the coven in the West for computers. He will leave in a few years. Niva has been sad without you, I think. They ask about you every day."

"The Crone?"

"She says you will be strong enough to withstand anything."

Seren's silent tears slipped down her face, hot against her skin.

Her mother didn't notice. She kept talking, her voice filled with pride.

"Everyone is so grateful for what you have done, my heart.

The money from your bride price has rebuilt the school.

We are setting aside money for the children to attend university with the humans. Do you understand how much this means?"

Seren stared blankly at the wall; her breath caught somewhere in her chest.

She understood.

She couldn't go back.

She had already been paid for.

So, she smiled through the lie, whispering, "I'm so glad, Mamma. I am so very happy here."

Things did not improve as the months passed. If anything, things got worse. Hagan kept his distance. The tribe followed his example.

He had made his choice .

He spent his days with his clique—Lia, Dain, and Veyr, their laughter and whispered conversations a wall she could not pass through.

The students had given her a name.

"Witch."

Someone had said it once, and it had stuck.

The comments, the murmurs, the sideways glances—they were all variations of the same thing now.

"Cursed girl."

"Witch."

"Little Hag"

"Voodoo princess"

Seren let them talk.

She held her head high and walked with the grace of someone untouchable, who felt nothing at all. She seemed too mature for a twelve-year-old.

Every day, she came to school.

She studied.

She trained.

She left.

Nothing more.

But she wasn't alone.

Elder Graider, one of the school's tutors, had taken an interest in her photography.

"You have an eye for it," he had told her, adjusting the focus on her Nikon. "Not just the subject. The story behind it. "

Under his guidance, Seren had begun exploring the school's landscape through her lens—capturing things that no one else seemed to notice.

The fleeting shift in the clouds before a storm.

The way the light touched the stone pathways at dusk.

The loneliness of a single bird perched on an empty branch.

Draken and Astrid were kind, trying to include her in small ways. They had her over for dinner, and tried to get Hagan's attention on her.

But none of it reached Hagan.

Though the days at school were cold and quiet, Seren had settled into a rhythm.

Every morning, she trained with the rest of the wolves, her body growing leaner, faster, more precise. The others still didn't offer her friendship—but among the budding female warriors, a quiet, unspoken respect had begun to take root.

They noticed how she kept up.

How she never complained.

How she never backed down, even when outmatched.

They didn't speak to her. But they didn't mock her anymore either .

Even Garrik—gruff and guarded—had started to keep a closer eye on her matches, his sharp gaze ensuring that no one used full wolf strength against her. Whether it was out of fairness or a grudging sort of recognition, she didn't know.

All of them—except Lia.

Lia watched her with predatory eyes, cool and calculating, like a wolf waiting for an injured deer to stumble. She didn't respect Seren. She didn't even seem to see her as a threat. Just as something that didn't belong. Something she would eventually crush.

And then there was Veyr.

Not cruel.

Not kind.

He said nothing.

But he watched her.

Always with the same unreadable look—like he was studying a puzzle no one had explained to him. His silence didn't feel malicious. But they didn't feel safe either.

With him, Seren never quite knew what she was dealing with.

It happened in the corridor, between classes.

Seren turned the corner too fast, her thoughts elsewhere, her mind running ahead of her body.

She didn't see him until it was too late .

Her elbow slammed into someone's arm, the impact sending a sharp, strange sensation shooting up her limb.

Like a current of electricity—but not just that.

It was like hitting the funny bone, that sudden, jarring fission of shock, something that left her breathless and off-balance for a second.

Her book slipped from her hands, hitting the polished floor with a dull thud.

Seren bent down instinctively—

And so did he.

Their hands stopped just short of touching.

That's when she looked up.

Hagan.

For a brief, suspended moment, neither of them moved.

He had felt it too.

She could see it in the way his eyes widened, just slightly—just enough to tell her he wasn't expecting whatever had passed between them.

But then—

Laughter.

Lia's voice, mocking, drifted toward them as she and the others approached.

Hagan's expression shut down instantly, like a curtain coming down.

Before she could react, before she could process what had just happened, he straightened to his full height—book in hand.

For a second, she thought—hoped—he would just hand it to her .

Instead—

He turned it over in his fingers, gaze flicking to her face, and said, low and sharp.

"You're so desperate to belong, you'll throw yourself at anyone's feet, won't you?"

Then—

He dropped the book.

Not at her feet.

Not even close.

He tossed it down the hall, where it slid across the smooth surface, far out of reach.

"Go fetch, witch."

A small, cruel smile ghosted over his lips before he turned on his heel and walked away, his friends falling into step behind him.

Lia laughed.

Dain smirked.

"I can smell your fear, little witch," whispered Dain as he passed.

Veyr said nothing, but his eyes flickered between them, unreadable as always.

Seren's pulse pounded in her ears, but her face remained ice.

She inhaled slowly, holding herself together, piece by piece.

Then she walked.

Past the whispers that she could hear. And the ones in the air that she could feel .

Past the sting in her chest.

She didn't run. Though she wanted to...far far away from these creatures.

She picked up her book, dusted it off, and kept moving.

But she knew—

He had felt it too.