POV: Everly
The wind carried the scent of iron.
The training field behind the estate reeked of sweat, steel, and bitter ground. It had rained the night before, and now the earth squelched under every step. Warriors sparred in pairs while juniors ran formation drills around the outer ring.
Everly stood at the edge, broom in hand.
She wasn't supposed to be here, at least not usually. But Mira had ordered her to sweep the upper corridor near the barracks, and one of the guards sent her to "be useful" outside instead.
She obeyed.
Of course she did.
The Omega assigned to field cleanup had twisted her ankle. Everly was sent in her place. Just for an hour.
So she swept.
And tried not to look at him.
---
Kyran stood near the weapons rack, dressed in black again, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His muscles tensed with every movement, the corded strength in his arms unmistakable.
He wasn't sparring.
He was watching.
Or pretending to.
She didn't want to look.
But her eyes flicked to him once…just once..and that was enough.
He looked back.
And the world narrowed.
No one else existed.
Not the warriors. Not the wind. Not the sound of clashing steel.
Just the look between them.
His jaw clenched.
Her fingers tightened on the broom.
Selene stirred faintly, a flicker of breath in her chest.
He took a step forward.
Just one.
Then stopped.
The air grew heavy.
He opened his mouth.
She turned away.
Didn't run.
Didn't flinch.
But she walked..slowly, deliberately…back toward the estate without looking back again.
Her steps felt louder than they should've.
---
She didn't know what he would've said.
She didn't want to know.
The bond still lingered. Not burning. Not whole. But *present*. Like a hand pressed against glass.
She wanted to scream.
Instead, she went to the laundry hall and scrubbed the same corner three times.
Selene didn't speak, but her silence felt tighter than usual. Like she was listening.
Or… waiting.
---
That evening, Everly carried linens to the infirmary wing, a task normally assigned to the younger Omegas, but they were all busy with repairs from the festival.
The halls were quiet.
The candles low.
She moved quickly, arms full, hoping no one would notice her.
Then she saw her.
The Seer.
The old woman who'd stood at the altar. Cloaked in blue. Blindfolded.
She was sitting on a bench near the open window, head tilted slightly upward, as if listening to something far off.
Everly hesitated.
Then tried to pass without drawing attention.
"You're dreaming again," the Seer said softly.
Everly stopped.
"I…" She looked around. "I don't understand."
"No. You wouldn't."
The Seer's voice wasn't cruel. But it wasn't kind, either. Just... heavy. Like it carried more than words.
"You've heard her footsteps," the woman murmured. "Felt them in the soil of your soul."
Everly blinked. "Who?"
The Seer smiled faintly. "It isn't time."
Everly's heart thudded.
"Time for what?"
The Seer stood..slowly, bones creaking…and leaned on her carved walking stick.
"When the door opens," she said, turning toward the window, "you mustn't walk through it too fast. Or too slow."
"I don't understand."
"You will."
Everly stepped forward, the linens heavy in her arms. "Please…what do you know?"
The Seer tilted her head, as if hearing something Everly could not.
Then: "You're not meant to break here."
That was all she said before she walked away, leaving Everly standing alone in the dim corridor, breath caught somewhere between fear and confusion.
---
That night, she lay on her cot and stared at the cracked ceiling.
Not meant to break here.
Her hands trembled.
She didn't know what the Seer meant.
Didn't know what the door was.
Didn't know what was watching her in her dreams.
But something had shifted.
Kyran had looked at her like he wanted to speak.
The Seer had warned her in riddles.
The whispers had gotten quieter…but colder.
And the pack wasn't ignoring her anymore.
They were circling.
Waiting.
Selene pulsed faintly in her chest.
Still silent.
Still with her.
But something else lingered in the dark now, too.
Everly felt it behind her dreams.
Not speaking.
Not touching.
Just… present.
And waiting.