Page 69

"No."

The word cut clean through the air like a blade honed on silence.

Hagan turned—his heart already stuttering before he saw her standing there.

Seren.

Framed in the doorway, arms folded tight over her chest, chin high. Her eyes were the colour of silver, unreadable and sharp as flint.

He hadn't even scented her.

Gods, how had he not scented her?

He still smelled like her. Her warmth had soaked into his skin from the bus ride, the stairs, that ridiculous cathedral climb...from every touch he stole. She was in his breath, on his hoodie, his hands. Every inch of him hummed with the day they'd just spent together.

But this—this was not the soft-spoken woman who'd smiled over soup or stared at a falcon chick like it was a revelation. This was Seren the storm.

And she was staring straight at him.

"What's going on in the Tribelands?" she asked, voice level.

He opened his mouth—but no words came .

Because how did you explain the slow unravelling of a world? The quiet rot creeping under the soil? The grief that no one spoke of because they brought this on themselves?

So she repeated it again, slower this time. Sharper.

"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 .

Lightened. The silence between them pulsed with emotion. Memory.

Seren stepped closer. "You thought you could protect me by keeping me in the dark?"

"I thought I was giving you a choice," he said." I couldn't take your choice away again. Not again."

She shook her head, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "No. You were trying to delay the fallout. The moment I learned what was happening, you knew I'd never let you go alone."

He swallowed hard. "You've built something here. You've found peace. I didn't want to risk it."

"You are risking it," she whispered. "By going without me. By keeping the truth from me."

He stepped forward, slowly, like she was a wild creature he didn't want to startle.

"You don't owe us anything," he said. "But the land—Seren, it responds to you. The oracle said it grieves. "

Her hand trembled like she was on the cusp of a great discovery, but she stilled it with a breath.

"You don't have to come," he added. "But you are right. You deserved the truth. "

Then the tribelink buzzed—

You shouldn't have said all that in front of her.You had no right. You know how dangerous things are back home. What if they find her? What if they suspect...

She was already in it - Veyr cut in. She's not a child anymore, Hagan. She deserved the truth.

You just dropped everything on her. It’s not her burden to carry!

She is not the same as she was before. She isn't. Look at her. She survived on her own. Built a life. Found her strength. You don't get to wrap her in wool just because you still see her as breakable .

She's mine. And if they use her—if they twist what's left of our magic, or worse—We don't even know who is doing this. How can I risk her? My heart?

Then let her decide if it's worth the risk. You keep speaking like she belongs to you. But she's not yours to protect anymore. She chose this. You think she's not already making her choice.

Hagan was silent, breathing hard through the link.

Then—Seren drawled. "I can hear you, you know."

Both men snapped their attention to her .

"The tribelink." Her eyes flicked between the two men. "Just like... vibrations. Faint. But there. I hear things when I let myself. Half-thoughts. Emotions. Parts of conversation, mostly."

Hagan looked stricken.

Veyr was more cautious. "How much do you hear?"

Seren's expression turned dry. "Enough. Especially from you. Your head’s like a basement library full of sharp objects and smothered feelings."

"I'm consistent," Veyr muttered.

Seren tilted her head towards Hagan. "And then there's the time you thought about gutting a certain warlock during the gallery opening—twice."

Hagan didn't even look guilty. "That was justified."

She rolled her eyes. "You both need mental locks."

There was a pause. Then Veyr asked, a little too casually, "Can you read me right now?"

Seren gave him a long, slow look and a wicked little smile. "Most of the time. It's very dark in there. Angry thoughts. Silent brooding. A disturbing amount of strategy diagrams involving knives...And Ana?"

Veyr blinked. "That's... deeply unsettling. "

A ghost of amusement curled across her lips. "Not a big fan of your porn stash."

Hagan choked.

Veyr looked vaguely horrified, his ears turning faintly pink. "That is private encrypted data."

"Not encrypted enough," Seren muttered, biting back a grin.

Veyr went very still. Hagan choked on absolutely nothing.

"You're bluffing," Veyr said flatly.

Seren shrugged. "Am I?"

Seren's smile slipped away just as quickly, her voice turning steady again. "Then you'd better not start hiding things now. Either of you."

The air shifted—lighter for a moment, though the weight between them still lingered. There was no escaping what was ahead.

She looked at Hagan for a long moment. Then at Veyr, who nodded once. And then back at Hagan.

"Wait for me?" she asked softly.

His eyes burned. "For as long as it takes."