Page 75

Breakfast was a quiet affair. There was an awareness between Hagan and Seren now—something shimmered between them that hadn't been there before. He served her a plate before fetching his own meal from the communal kitchen, a gesture not lost on anyone at the table.

Threk was already seated, making steady inroads into a mountain of food. Veyr sat opposite him, arms crossed, his expression a mixture of disbelief and disgust.

"You know there's no need to rush," he said dryly, watching him tear through another slab of roast meat. "No one's going to steal your food."

Threk swallowed a massive bite and grinned "I'm prepping for hibernation."

Seren snorted, tea spraying from her nose. She coughed and dabbed at herself with the sleeve of her jumper, cheeks flushing as Hagan handed her a cloth without a word, his lips twitching.

The levity didn't last long.

The Oracle had spoken to Hagan earlier through the tribelink.

She'd asked them to go to the border and scout—see what they could find.

She had sensed something—something faint and strange—when she travelled to the place where Draken had fallen and Jorik had almost bled out, left barely clinging to life.

She had gone to that place, felt a tremor of something. .. unfinished and horrifying .

Storm clouds still lingered outside, ready to release a torrent. The air was heavy with moisture and tension.

The Vargrheim lands curved around the Stranheim territories like a half-moon—north, south, and east. A narrow ribbon of common ground and a strait of water between two lakes divided them, but their borders were only a stone's throw apart. They needed to head south. Today.

A scraping of feet on stone drew their attention. Dain stood at the edge of the room, a looming shadow at the stone threshold.

He approached the table cautiously.

He had changed. Bigger. Broader. He was bigger than before—bigger even than Hagan—his frame packed with dense muscle.

Almost as large as Threk in frame—his chest wide and solid, arms thick like carved from the mountain itself.

His body was a map of hard-earned scars.

One curved across his cheek like a pale lightning strike.

A chunk of his left ear was missing, as though something had bitten it clean off.

A guarded air cloaked him like a mantle.

He hadn't met Seren's eyes when she first arrived, and even now, his gaze lingered just to the side of her. He hovered there, uncertain, a traveller who hadn't been invited inside.

Off to the side, Lía moved in silence, scrubbing down a table already cleared of dishes.

Her thin back was straight, her movements stiff, precise, too careful.

No one acknowledged her. It was as if there was an invisible barrier between her and the rest of the room—one that no one was willing to breach. Shunned. Reduced to the peripheries .

Still, her gaze strayed when Dain entered. Not watching them. Just him. Her attention was a held breath—sharp, quiet, hungry. But Dain didn't spare her a glance. Not once. His focus was locked on Seren, as if the rest of the room didn't exist.

He stepped closer, heavy boots soundless on the stone floor, and stood before her with his head bowed.

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

Tried again.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "Lunara."

It was the first time he'd called her that. Acknowledged who she was always meant to be.

A Fang was the Lunara's shield. He hadn't been doing the job he was born to do.

He was different now. Quiet. Almost eerily so. He didn't fidget the way he used to. He hardly moved at all. Sometimes it seemed like he hardly took a breath.

His colouring was the opposite of the others—where Hagan and Veyr were shadow and smoke, Dain was sunlight. Soft blond hair curled in soft waves streaked with auburn. Freckles, so at odds with the rest of him, dusted the bridge of his nose and cheekbones.

Seren's eyes narrowed, her unblinking stare pressing against him .

He seemed to hesitate again before saying "My mistakes were unforgivable," he said, voice low. "But maybe... in time..."

His hazel eyes, lit with regret and something like hope, finally met hers. He nodded once stiffly, as if resigned, like he already knew the answer to how silent question.

Seren's expression didn't soften. Not outwardly. But she could see what lies had cost him—how they'd carved hollows beneath his eyes, turned his silence into a kind of penance.

The wind carried whispers to her.

Guilt. Shame. Regret. Resolve.

She looks different.

Harder. Sharper. She doesn't shrink —not from anyone. Definitely not from me.

Good.

How could I have been so blind?

His fingers curled slightly at his sides. Dain gave a single, barely-there nod. His hazel eyes flicked up to meet hers, full of things he didn't yet know how to say.

He was about to turn away when her voice reached him again, light as a breeze .

"Have you had breakfast?" she asked casually, not looking directly at him, as if it were a passing comment on the weather.

He blinked.

Was that...?

"We have to go to the borders," she continued and took another sip of her tea as if she hadn't just thrown him a rope.

Before he could process it, Hagan glanced up and caught her meaning. He shifted slightly, making space beside him and gesturing toward the empty spot at the table.

"Sit," he said simply.

Something warm broke across Dain's face—uncertain, unguarded. He nodded jerkily.

Then he turned and lifted a hand in signal.

From near the doorway, a soft rustle of skirts and hesitant footsteps.

A girl approached—young, slight, with wide doe-brown eyes and a soft fall of ash-blonde hair. She carried herself with a kind of nervous grace, clutching a scarf in one hand until Dain reached for her. She took his hand, then glanced at the table with shy apprehension.

"This is Freya," Dain said quietly, gentleness tucked into the edges of his voice .

Freya dipped her head in greeting, cheeks flushed pink.

Threk raised a hand in a friendly wave, his mouth full. Veyr offered a nod, his expression unreadable.

Behind them, Lía turned away, her cloth pressed too hard against the stone, knuckles white. No one noticed. Except Seren.

They ate in companionable quiet, the clinking of cutlery soft against stoneware, the fire crackling low in the hearth. Conversation ebbed and flowed, easy now that the tension had thinned.

Dain spoke in low tones to Freya, introducing her to Threk and Veyr, his broad shoulders slightly hunched as if to shield her from too much attention. She smiled shyly at the others.

Across the room, Seren caught a flicker of movement—Lía. She was slipping out the door, her cleaning cloth folded tightly in her hands, shoulders hunched, steps quick and quiet. But not quick enough to hide the expression on her face.

It was something far rawer. A wealth of pain hid behind her dull grey eyes.

And for a brief, startling moment, Seren felt a pang of sympathy. She had wanted to see her brought low. But this…

She turned her attention back to her plate, shaking the thought away—only to find Hagan beside her again, sliding a spoonful of wild mushrooms onto her dish with care that felt far too deliberate .

When she looked up with a question in her eyes, his gaze was already waiting.

Warm. Open. Worshipful.

His eyes held the kind of quiet, aching adoration that made her heart stumble. Like she was the only thing in the room worth seeing.

"My moon," he murmured, voice too low for anyone else to hear. Or so they pretended. After all, they were surrounded by wolves.

Her breath hitched, just slightly.

"...Why did you...Dain..." he started.

She didn't answer at first.

"It takes too much energy to stay angry," she said, flicking at a piece of bread crust with the tip of her fork at him.

"But you're still angry with me," he said softly.

She looked at him from beneath her lashes, expression wry.

"That's because you're special. And..." she said softly.

The sarcasm was light but laced with heat.

Then, more firmly—her voice losing its gentleness—"And because you're special, you don't get to coast through whatever this is.

No one else mattered the way you did, so you have to earn your way back.

Every damn bit of it. And don't expect me to lay out a welcome mat—I've seen just how many options are out there. "