Page 72

A sweet, resinous scent drifted through the clearing, where a pyre of fragrant cedar rose high under the pale full moon.

Smoke curled upward, soft ribbons of grey dancing above the wood.

In the centre of it all lay Draken, wrapped in a plain but lovingly stitched funeral shroud.

Drops of blood from Astrid's delicate fingers stained the cloth.

The villagers gathered in a wide circle, a hush blanketing their grief.

Jorik, still weak from his injuries, was the first to approach.

He walked with a pronounced limp, leaning on a makeshift crutch.

The hush deepened as he knelt beside his father.

His hand trembled when he reached out to brush Draken's hair from his forehead.

Leaning in, he kissed his father's cold cheek.

"Farewell, father," Jorik whispered hoarsely. His tears soaked into the linen cloth, turning the white threads darker.

Hagan came next. He was a pillar of quiet strength as he strode forward, but his stoic composure cracked the moment he took in the sight of Draken's still face.

He bent to embrace the body, pressing his forehead against the edge of the shroud.

Although he made no sound, tears wet the cloth, adding to Jorik's.

Seren followed. She placed her palm gently on Draken's cheek, recalling the day they met outside the crone's hut.

She had been frightened, uncertain of her powers—uncertain of everything, really.

Draken had been unexpectedly kind then, offering a guiding presence she had not realized she needed.

As those memories flooded back, her throat tightened .

"You were a second father to me. I wish...I wish it hadn't ended this way." she murmured, voice trembling. "Godspeed."

She stepped aside so that a young priestess could lay a milky moonstone on Draken's forehead, the last tribute to the Moon Goddess.

As the day dawned, when the embers cooled, his ashes would be scattered in the Sacred Pool.

Many claimed the pool's sparkling stones were fragments of the ancestors' souls, each unique hue symbolizing a life once lived.

A part of the ancestors lingering to protect the tribe.

The flames soon crackled to life, their glow illuminating every tear-streaked face as the pyre transformed from a cold silence into a blazing pillar of orange and gold.

Astrid leaned heavily on a blank-faced Renna, grief holding them both in its tight fist. In that flickering light, Seren's attention drifted to the edge of the gathering, where she saw someone standing just beyond the shifting shadows.

Lia.

Gone was the proud confidence she usually wore like a second skin.

Her posture sagged, arms cradling her own body as though trying to hold in her grief.

Tears streaked her cheeks, catching faintly in the firelight.

Seren followed Lia's line of sight and saw that she was staring at Dain, who stood with his head bowed, listening to soft prayers by the Elders.

Something in Lia's gaze—longing, sorrow, regret as she gazed at Dain—drew Seren closer.

Quietly, she slipped away from the circle of mourners, edging around the pyre until she was within arm's length of Lia.

Flames crackled behind them, drowning out the murmur of voices.

Yet in that instant, Seren sensed something else—a whispered torrent of emotion that felt simultaneously outside her body and yet intimately close: sorrow, regret, agony, longing.

Surprise rippled through Seren; it was coming from Lia. For so long, Lia had shown no trace of a wolf spirit, no sign of the telepathic bond that the shifter families shared. Yet here it was, a raw and powerful presence, broadcasting her thoughts in waves that nobody else seemed to notice.

Lia looked up, startled to find Seren at her side. Her eyes widened with the shock of being discovered.

"You..." Seren's words caught in her throat. She felt that strange new presence swirling in the air between them, intangible yet undeniable. "You have your wolf."

Their gazes locked. For a moment, everything else—the roar of the flames, the hushed chanting, the sea of grief that filled the clearing—faded into the background. Only Lia's ragged breath and wide, terrified eyes remained, revealing more to Seren than Lia had ever intended to share.

Seren led Lia deeper into the forest, the hush of the funeral pyre gradually giving way to the murmurs of nature.

Everywhere around them, life was unfolding in soft, shy bursts—buds swelling on the ends of slender branches, tiny leaves unfurling like timid hands reaching for the sun.

Birds called to each other from the canopy, and the soft rustle of underbrush hinted at the presence of something larger.

A herd of elk had been seen the night before, weaving through the moon-drenched glades like shadows reborn.

The forest was her friend. No one could hurt her here.

In spite of death, there was a timorous hope in the air. The forest whispered of beginnings.

Seren was aware of Threk. Though she couldn't see him, she could feel the tether of his silent protection trailing behind her like a comforting shadow. If Lia tried anything—if this was a trap—Threk would be there before the danger fully formed.

But Lia's voice, when she finally spoke, wasn't sharp. It wasn't even defensive. It was low and flat, with a layer of weary acceptance painting the edges.

"You look well," she said in a low voice, her eyes distant.

Seren turned her head, catching the woman's profile as dappled light played across her face.

"Hagan and you... you look good together," Lia continued, voice quieter still. "He reaches for you when you're not near. I see it in the way he looks at you. It is the way it should be. I knew... I knew there was no hope for us, even before I admitted it to myself."

She paused, taking in the wakening forest, breathing as though she hadn't allowed herself to do so in years.

"In a way," she whispered, "I'm glad things turned out the way they did. He wasn't the one for me. Not really. I tried to want him, but... it was no good. And I'm sorry, Seren. For everything. The way I treated you. If I could go back, if I could—"

She broke off.

Seren felt it before she understood it—a block, a wall, something invisible but suffocating that wrapped around Lia's voice and mind. She wanted to say something more. Needed to. But something in her blood, the magic that had bound her, wouldn’t allow it.

Silvery streaks of liquid regret painted her pale cheeks with the echoes of the regret in her heart.

Seren reached out to her with an instinctive need to comfort a wounded animal, just as the underbrush behind them rustled violently—and Hagan emerged, wild-eyed and breathless.

"I couldn't find you," he growled, his gaze locking on Lia with instant suspicion and panic. "Seren, come to me. Get away from her."

"She means no harm," Seren said calmly, stepping slightly between them. "She's not here to fight."

Lia raised her hands slowly, palms open. "I don't. I swear it."

Hagan's posture didn't relax, but he didn't advance either.

Seren turned to Lia, asking the question that had been building since the funeral. "How did you get your wolf? "

Lia blinked, lips parting as though the answer had been waiting on her tongue.

"My mother," she said quietly. "She... she had my wolf bound.

I was born with both—enchantress magic and a wolf spirit.

But both were equally powerful, warring inside me like two opposing entities.

She thought the wolf was a weakness. The emotions, the instincts, the empathy—it made my enchantress power.

.. softer. So she had my wolf locked away, buried deep so the enchantress in me would rule. "

Her voice shook with something like shame. "But now that my enchantress magic is gone—permanently bound—my wolf... she can be free. I'm grateful. Selfish of me... but grateful. I didn't even remember that part of me. I was so young when she did it."

Seren's breath caught. The woman standing before her was not the icy rival she once knew.

This version of Lia seemed peeled open and raw, exposed in the most human way possible.

And for the first time, Seren saw her not as a threat, but as someone lost—someone still trying to remember who she used to be.

There was no mistaking the truth in her eyes.

There were layers to Lia that they knew nothing about.

And for some reason, she couldn't tell them.

"You deserve to have her," Seren said softly.

Lia looked up; eyes wet. "I don't know if I deserve anything. But I think... I might finally be able to figure out who I am."

Behind them, Hagan was still tense, but the anxiety had begun to settle in his chest .

Seren reached for his hand without looking. He took it instantly, instantly at peace. They slowly made their way back to where the funeral pyre was still burning bright.