DRAVEN'S POV.
We continued the ride east, the trail winding higher until the mountain opened to a cliff overlooking the valley. From here, I could see beyond the borders of my pack, into the stretch of human lands that lay miles away, broken up by forests, plains, and rivers that glinted like veins of silver.
Zayn rode up beside me. "You're thinking again," he said.
"I'm always thinking."
"No," he said dryly. "You're brooding. It's different."
I ignored him. My gaze caught on something far ahead, near the horizon, faint plumes of smoke rising, not from industry or hearths, but from chaos. I narrowed my eyes. The air smelled faintly of wet soil and decay—water. Too much of it.
"Flooding," I muttered.
Zayn followed my line of sight. The faint outlines of a small village sat by a riverbank, the water swelling unnaturally high. From this distance, I could make out figures, tiny, scrambling, carrying sacks and furniture, leading animals through knee-deep water.
He whistled under his breath. "That's the human village downriver. The one you…" he paused, then corrected himself. "The one we passed when we returned."
Selin's village.
I didn't say it aloud, but I didn't have to. The thought hit like an echo. They looked like ants from up here, moving desperately, hopelessly against the rising current. Roofs half-submerged, smoke curling weakly into the sky.
"Where are they going?" I asked.
Zayn shook his head. "Hard to say. There's no nearby settlement that would take them. Most humans won't risk helping those from the lowlands. Disease, famine…too much trouble."
I watched in silence, my grip tightening on the reins. "Their capital should have sent aid."
He gave a humorless laugh. "Aid? For that village? They probably don't even know it exists."
"Someone has to."
Zayn looked sideways at me. "Why do you care? They're not our kind, Draven."
I didn't answer right away. The wind tugged at my cloak, the distant screams of the villagers faintly echoing up the ridge. We sat there, two figures on horseback, overlooking a dying village that no one else would save.
"I could send a patrol," he offered after a while, hesitant. "Discreetly. Maybe they could—"
"No." My tone was sharper than I meant it to be. "If we intervene, humans will see it. The last thing I need is for them to start hunting shadows again."
Zayn sighed. "Then we watch?"
"Yes." I hated the word as soon as I said it. "We watch."
We stayed until the last smoke column faded into the gray horizon. The river glimmered under the pale sunlight, swallowing the village piece by piece.
When we finally turned back toward the fortress, Zayn glanced at me. "You could have let her stay," he said softly. "At least she would've been safe here."
"She's human," I replied. "This isn't her world."
He smirked faintly. "And yet you look like a man who left his world behind a long time ago."
I didn't respond. Because maybe, for the first time in a decade, he was right.
The ride back was quiet, but my mind wasn't. Every hoofbeat sounded like a question I didn't want to answer. I'd seen blood and fire and death, but the image that haunted me most wasn't any of those. It was a girl standing in a flooded village, trembling, stubborn, alive. And I knew, no matter how far I sent her…the curse wasn't done with her.
Or me.
***
"…we can't keep the patrols spread this thin!" one elder barked.
"…if the rogues attack again, the western barrier will fall—"
"…and you're still worried about a human girl?"
I pushed the heavy door open, and the hall fell silent. Their heads turned in unison. The scent of fear was faint but sharp in the air, not the kind born of terror, but of reverence.
"Your Majesty," one of them began cautiously. "We were just discussing—"
"I heard," I interrupted, walking past them toward the high table. "And I agree."
A flicker of surprise crossed a few faces.
"I agree," I continued evenly, "that we shouldn't be wasting time on one human girl while our borders burn and our people starve."
I let my words hang there. "If any of you have a better suggestion for how to hold this territory together without collapsing under your own fear, I'm listening."
No one spoke. I leaned forward on the table, letting my gaze sweep the room…old wolves, battle-hardened and proud, suddenly looking like chastised children.
"Good," I said softly. "Then let's start acting like the predators we are, not frightened cubs snapping at shadows."
Zayn stood near the far wall, arms crossed, watching me with a faint grin that said he knew I was about to explode.
I turned to the head of defense. "Status on the southern patrol?"
"They reported movement, sire. Possibly rogues, but…" The man hesitated. "They're not behaving like rogues. They're organized. Precise."
That caught my attention. "How many?"
"Too many for a scattered clan. At least two dozen."
The murmur rippled again.
"Send scouts," I ordered. "Quietly. I want no open confrontation. If they're gathering, I need to know why."
One of the councilmen, a thickset wolf named Coren, frowned. "And if they're coming for us?"
"Then they'll find we bite harder than they do," I said flatly.
Zayn chuckled under his breath. "That's the Draven I know."
But I wasn't finished. "Until then, all efforts go into strengthening the western outposts. No more wasted resources chasing ghosts. And no more debates about a single human. She's gone. That matter is closed."
A few of the elders shifted uncomfortably, but no one challenged me.
When the meeting finally dispersed, the hall slowly emptied, leaving behind the lingering scent of tension and smoke. I stood there a while longer, listening to the echoes of boots against stone fade into silence.
"You're getting better at that," Zayn said behind me. "Sounding calm while your blood's boiling."
I gave him a look. "You have something to say, say it."
He shrugged. "You're doing everything right…leading, fixing, commanding, but you look like a man trying to outrun something he already carries."
"Poetic," I said dryly. "Maybe you should have been the one cursed instead."
He laughed. "Maybe I wouldn't have survived it."
"You wouldn't have," I said, without humor.
He sobered, watching me carefully. "You saw that village earlier, didn't you? The human one."
"Yes."
"And?" He asked.
"And it's not our concern." I replied.
He snorted. "You keep saying that, but I can smell the lie every time."
I didn't reply. I walked past him, through the corridor that opened into the northern balcony. The sky outside was the color of steel, the air sharp with rain. From here, I could see the mountains stretching endlessly, the forests that hid our pack's strongholds, the distant shimmer of rivers cutting through human land. Once, this view gave me peace. Now it only reminded me how small I'd made my world.
Zayn joined me at the railing, silent for a while. Then he said quietly, "You know, if your mother weren't furious with you, she'd probably say this was fate."
"She can keep her prophecies," I muttered.
"She won't, though," he said. "You know her. She's already convinced this is the beginning of something…the curse changing, the blood moon shifting again—"
I turned sharply toward him. "Enough."
Zayn raised his hands in mock surrender. "Just saying. You're not the only one who feels the air changing."
It was true. Even the wolves had noticed it, restlessness in the nights, unease in the forests, whispers that the moonlight burned differently now. The curse had always been mine to bear. But lately…it felt like it was bleeding into the world around me. And ever since she'd left, the silence had grown heavier.
"Do you think the humans will survive the flood?" Zayn asked suddenly.
I stared into the distance. "I don't know."
He looked at me. "But you want them to."
"I want the world to stop rotting," I said simply.
Zayn gave a quiet laugh. "And yet you think you can do that while pretending you don't care about the one person who made you question everything?"
"Enough, Zayn."
He took the hint and backed off. Still, his words lingered long after he was gone.
By nightfall, I stood alone in the war room, tracing the map laid out before me—lines and markings showing borders, rivers, territories. My hand hovered over the small, unnamed patch of land near the flooded river. No insignia, no boundary markers. Just a nameless spot forgotten by both man and beast.
Her village.
I closed my fist. The candle beside me flickered violently, a pulse of heat crawling beneath my skin…the curse stirring, responding to something I couldn't name. I was still surprised that she survived my touch. What could she really be?
I need answers.