POV: Kyran & Everly
Everly was scrubbing the floor outside the infirmary when the summons came.
A warrior she didn't recognize approached with a scroll and a sour look. He held it out like it was something dirty.
"Report to field drills. South ring. Immediately."
She blinked, hands soaked and red from bleach. "I'm not a…"
"Not my problem," he cut in. "Alpha's orders. You're on the list."
Before she could ask *why*, he turned and walked off, leaving wet bootprints behind him.
She looked down at her hands. Then at the scroll, which now lay discarded near her mop.
Her name was there.
Written clear as day, alongside two Omega trainees and a servant from the kitchen rotation.
She felt Selene shift slightly, like a muscle twitch beneath her ribs.
No explanation.
No choice.
Just... *go.*
---
Kyran was already at the field by the time she arrived.
He didn't see her at first. He was speaking with Commander Eron, gesturing toward the southern tree line. A new patrol plan. Something about tracking rogue movement near the ridge.
Everly stayed back, standing at the edge with the other low-ranks.
She kept her head down.
But her presence spread like smoke.
The air changed.
A few warriors looked her way.
Not with cruelty.
With confusion.
Why was *she* here?
She didn't know either.
---
Kyran turned…and saw her.
For a second, his eyes widened.
Then narrowed.
Then went blank.
Emotionless.
Everly looked away.
Eron leaned in and muttered something. Kyran's shoulders tensed. He glanced toward her again…this time longer.
Everly's stomach twisted.
He walked away from the conversation, straight toward the center ring.
"Line up," he barked. "Five paces apart."
She obeyed.
Of course she did.
But this time, she felt every step. Every inch of space between her and the rest of the world.
---
The drills were brutal.
Nothing she hadn't done before in secret, when cleaning blood, when running errands uphill, when scrubbing stone until her hands split.
But doing them *in public*, under *his gaze*, was different.
Pushups. Stamina runs. Weighted carries.
Her muscles burned. Her palms tore open. Her legs cramped by the halfway point.
She didn't cry.
Didn't pause.
Didn't give him the satisfaction.
Selene breathed through her, quiet but steady.
She could feel Kyran's eyes on her. Not constantly, but enough.
Like he couldn't decide what was more dangerous: her body, or his reaction to it.
---
By the time break was called, she was shaking.
She sat on the bench near the weapons rack, wrapping her hands with a torn strip of cloth.
Kyran approached the water station, speaking low to Eron again.
"Why is she here?" he asked.
"You said you needed to prove something," Eron replied without looking up. "Your father agrees."
"This isn't…"
"You rejected the bond," Eron said. "So stop acting like it's still there."
Kyran exhaled slowly, jaw tense.
"It's not."
"Then she's just another body on the field. Treat her that way."
But they both knew it wasn't true.
---
After the second round of drills, the group was dismissed. The Omegas scattered.
Everly remained, catching her breath, arms shaking from the last round of lifts.
Kyran turned toward her.
Just a glance.
But she felt it.
And this time…she looked back.
Their eyes met.
And the world stilled.
Not with softness.
Not with longing.
With tension. Unspoken. Heavy.
Selene stirred…stronger now.
Everly didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't *flinch.*
She was waiting.
But for what, she didn't know.
Kyran stepped closer.
Then stopped.
Everly's breath caught.
And then…he turned.
He walked away.
She felt Selene pulse once beneath her ribs.
Frustrated.
Unfulfilled.
Then silent.
---
Later that evening, whispers circled the packhouse.
About a new rogue sighting near the southern border. About a group that didn't behave like typical strays. Too coordinated. Too quiet. Too numerous.
They had no pack markings. No banners.
But their movement was deliberate.
Kyran overheard the warriors reporting to his father in the council chamber.
"Same formation as last week," one said. "Ten, maybe twelve wolves. Moving in groups. Vanishing before patrols can intercept."
"Outcasts?" another offered.
"Maybe," the Alpha muttered. "Or something worse."
Kyran frowned.
Outcasts were usually loners. Traitors. Banished wolves with no pack and no protection.
But this group was acting like a unit.
Organized. Strategic.
That didn't fit.
The King's scout division had been notified. Quietly. No public announcement.
Not yet.
But Kyran's father didn't like being watched.
Especially not by shadows.
---
That night, Kyran returned to the lower war hall alone, hoping to clear his head with mapwork and reports.
But the Seer was waiting.
Again.
"How long will you deny what's already touched you?" she asked softly.
Kyran stiffened. "I don't have time for riddles."
"You have time for mistakes."
"I'm not bound to her."
She tilted her head. "No. But your wolf is."
Kyran's heart slammed in his chest.
"She doesn't even know what she is."
"Exactly," the Seer murmured.
Then she stepped forward.
"She is not the beginning of your ruin. She is the end of your illusion."
And then she vanished again, just like before..leaving the scent of sage and old wind in her wake.
---
Kyran stood alone in the torchlight.
His hands trembled.
Not from fear.
From something deeper.
Something primal.
Something breaking.