Seren didn't look back at the gate.
She didn't want to see it close. Didn't want to watch Lucan's world seal itself off from her like she had never belonged there at all.
The moment her feet crossed the outer threshold, her knees buckled.
Her bond had been severed.
She could still feel the tearing. Not just emotional—it was real, like someone had yanked a string from inside her chest and ripped it straight through her spine. Her body trembled from the shock.
She sank down against a cold rock and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. Her clothes were thin, the fabric torn at the hem. She had nothing now. No food. No shelter. No pack. No protection.
The Hollowlands was no place for the broken.
Darkness rolled in fast, swallowing the trees one by one. The path before her disappeared under fog and moss. Distant howls echoed through the woods—not wolves. Something else. Things that didn't follow the rules of any bloodline.
But still… she kept going.
Hours passed. Maybe more.
The air grew colder. Dampness settled into her bones. She stepped over roots, through knee-deep mud, and ducked under sharp branches. Her boots were ruined. Her hands bled from thorns. Her breath came in shaky bursts, visible in the chilled night air.
Her body ached. But worse was the weight in her stomach.
The child.
Still quiet. Still strong.
Her hand hovered just above her belly. She didn't know what she was carrying. She didn't know who had given it to her or how. But she knew it wasn't normal. It couldn't be. Her own powers had started acting strangely the moment she found out—vision flashes, sudden warmth in her fingertips, dreams she couldn't wake from.
The baby wasn't just growing.
It was changing her.
And that scared her more than anything else.
By dawn, her body couldn't take it.
She stumbled into a clearing and collapsed beside a dry creek bed. The edges of her vision were going dark. She needed sleep. Food. Something. But she was too weak to move.
She let her eyes close.
And somewhere between waking and sleep, she heard footsteps.
Not loud. Careful. Measured.
Then the unmistakable growl of a wolf.
Her eyes snapped open.
A figure stood on the other side of the creek. At first, she thought it was just another shadow. But it moved—slowly, deliberately. Broad shoulders, wild hair, eyes that glowed faintly in the morning light. His clothes were worn, his chest rising with heavy breaths.
Not a beast.
Not a guard.
A man.
A werewolf.
He didn't speak.
Just stared at her like he knew what she was… and didn't trust it.
Her lips parted. "I'm not a threat."
He said nothing.
"I'm just—"
She blinked.
He was gone.
She woke up later on a bed of furs.
A fire burned quietly near the edge of a half-collapsed cabin. The roof was cracked. The walls were patched with rusted sheet metal and scavenged wood. But it was warm.
And someone had carried her here.
She sat up too fast. Her head spun.
The smell of herbs, leather, and smoke filled the air.
Her cloak had been removed. Her wounds—bandaged. Her boots—repaired with rough stitching. Her bag, the little pouch she'd managed to hide in her clothes, was untouched.
Someone had saved her.
Someone who didn't ask for thanks.
Or names.
She moved to the door and pushed it open.
The forest outside was silent.
Then—movement.
The wolf.
Across the clearing, near the tree line, he stood again. Watching her. The same piercing eyes. No expression. He didn't come closer.
Seren stepped forward.
"Thank you," she said, her voice hoarse.
He didn't reply.
Just turned and disappeared into the woods again.
That night, she stayed by the fire.
She found a small stash of dried meat and water. Nothing fancy. Just enough. Everything inside the cabin was practical. Functional. Nothing wasted.
Whoever he was, he didn't live here for comfort.
He lived here to survive.
And now… so did she.
As the fire crackled, she stared into the flames, one hand resting against her belly.
"Who are you?" she whispered to the child. "Why do you feel like… more?"
She closed her eyes.
The dreams came fast.
In one, she stood in a circle of fire, holding a child who didn't cry.
In another, Lucan's voice called her name, but she didn't turn.
And in the last, the wolf—his eyes locked with hers—stood over a battlefield, blood soaking his hands.
She woke before dawn.
The cabin was cold again.
Outside, the world was quiet. Too quiet.
Then—
A crack of a twig.
A shift in the wind.
She wasn't alone.
She grabbed the small blade from the fireplace and stepped out barefoot, heart pounding.
A figure moved near the woods.
But it wasn't the wolf.
It was something else.
She took a step forward.
Then she saw it—black robes, silver mask, no scent.
Council hunter.
They had found her.
And they hadn't come to talk.
She turned and ran, heart racing, pain slicing through her side. She didn't make it far. Her legs buckled near the trees.
She braced for the killing blow.
But it never came.
Instead—an explosion of growling.
Snarling.
Flesh hitting flesh.
A flash of fur. Teeth. A blur of motion.
The wolf had returned.
And he was tearing the hunter apart.
When it ended, he stood above her again, chest heaving, blood dripping from his claws.
She looked up at him.
"You followed me."
Still no words.
Just those eyes.
She reached for him.
But he stepped back into the shadows.
Gone again.
She sat there in the dirt, shaking.
Not from fear.
From knowing something had changed.
The forest had swallowed her. Lucan had erased her.
But someone had chosen to save her.
Twice.
And she had no idea why.