The Whispered Prophecy
The rogue's blood had barely soaked into the ground before Elder Sorin's eyes found me again. His stare was sharp and cold, like winter frost. It didn't simply look at me; it searched, probing deeper, as if he could reach into the corners of my mind and drag out every secret I had ever tried to hide.
"Kael," Sorin said at last. His voice carried quiet authority, the kind that made even the strongest warriors straighten instinctively. "A word."
Kael's jaw tightened. He gave a curt nod, his expression was unreadable, and turned without a word in my direction. I watched as he followed Sorin toward the shadowed edge of the training grounds.
The smell of blood still lingered heavily in the air. My wrists burned where the silver cuffs had rubbed the skin raw. Around me, the warriors had begun to move again, returning to their drills. Yet I could feel their glances sliding toward me whenever they thought I wasn't looking. They watched the stranger in their midst, the one who didn't belong. The outsider. The cursed one. The Alpha's mate.
I told myself to leave, to go fetch the bucket I had dropped. But my feet had a will of their own. I moved slowly, pretending to busy myself near the water trough, yet my ears strained to catch the sound of Kael's voice.
They had stopped near the weapons shed, half hidden by its shadow. The light from a nearby torch flickered across Kael's broad shoulders, painting harsh gold lines over his dark hair and the set of his jaw. Elder Sorin leaned close, speaking in a voice so low that I had to focus to hear.
"…Moonblood…"
The single word cut through the air like a blade. My heart gave a painful jolt. I had never heard the word before, but something inside me recognized it. My wolf stirred uneasily, pressing against my skin as if trying to listen too.
Kael's posture shifted. "You are certain?" he asked, his tone flat, but his voice betrayed the faintest thread of tension.
Sorin nodded once, the movement slow and deliberate. "The scent is faint, but it is there. She carries the mark of Moonblood."
"What does that mean?" Kael demanded with a low but sharp voice.
Sorin's eyes flicked briefly toward the camp before returning to Kael. "It means she is part of something older than our kind. Something tied to the prophecy that was spoken long before your birth."
I pressed my shoulder against the wall of the shed, trying to stay hidden. My fingers clenched around the bucket's handle until my knuckles ached. The sound of their voices drifted toward me in fragments.
"…rivals… heir… destruction or salvation…"
The words tangled and faded, carried away by the night breeze. Still, they chilled me to the bone. Were they talking about me?
Kael's reply came after a pause. "Prophecies are nothing but stories. I deal in what I can see and touch, not in old whispers."
"Even so," Sorin murmured, "reality has a way of bending to old truths. You would do well to remember that."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. I imagined Kael's expression, that look he always wore when something troubled him but he refused to show it. Then his voice came again, calm but hard. "I will handle her."
Sorin nodded slowly, though I could feel the weight of doubt behind the gesture. Then his eyes shifted past Kael's shoulder and met mine.
Immediately his eyes met mine, I froze. My breath caught as his gaze held mine for what felt like an eternity. I tried to pretend I hadn't been listening, quickly bending down to pick up the bucket, adjusting its handle as if I had been doing that all along. My heart pounded so hard that I was certain he could hear it.
But Sorin said nothing. He only gave me a look, a steady, assessing, almost knowing look before turning away. His footsteps faded into the night.
Kael turned toward me then, with eyes sharp as a blade. The torchlight gleamed off the blood still drying on his forearm.
"You are done here for tonight," he said.
"I still have chores," I answered, my voice sounding smaller than I intended.
"They can wait." His tone left no room for argument.
I studied his face, trying to read what he wasn't saying. And I noticed that there was something different in his expression tonight. No, it wasn't anger. Not even disdain. It was Something colder, even more calculating. He looked at me not as a prisoner, not even as a threat, but as a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.
We walked across the training grounds toward the fortress. The night was quiet except for the distant howl of wolves somewhere in the forest. The moonlight painted everything silver, and the air felt charged, heavy with unspoken tension. Kael didn't speak, and neither did I. The silence between us said enough.
Inside the fortress, the corridors were cooler. The walls were lined with flickering torches that cast a soft, golden glow across the stone. Shadows moved with each step we took, stretching long and thin along the floor. My footsteps echoed softly behind his, and though I tried to keep my distance, the pull of the mate bond tugged at me with every movement.
We stopped before a heavy wooden door reinforced with black iron. The scent of old pine and smoke clung to it. Kael turned to face me, his expression unreadable.
"You will sleep here from now on," he said.
I blinked, unsure I had heard correctly. "Here?"
He gave the faintest hint of a smirk. "In the chambers next to mine. It will be easier to keep an eye on you."
I folded my arms, forcing my voice steady. "Because you think I'll try to run again?"
He stepped closer, his gaze fixed on mine. "Because I think you are trouble," he said quietly, "and trouble belongs where I can deal with it."
My pulse jumped. His words carried the weight of command, but underneath it, there was something else. Something he was trying to hide even from himself. I wanted to challenge him, to throw his arrogance back in his face, but the look in his eyes stopped me.
He was watching me differently now.
Not as the girl who had defied him, not as the enemy he had dragged into his fortress. There was something in his gaze that unsettled me—curiosity, wariness, and something far more dangerous than either.
I tore my eyes away first. "I don't need a guard," I muttered.
"No," he said softly, almost to himself, "but you need watching."
The door creaked as he pushed it open. The room beyond was dim, lit only by the faint light of the moon spilling through a narrow window. The air smelled faintly of cedar and smoke. A simple bed stood against one wall, clean but uninviting.
I stepped inside without waiting for permission. The silence between us grew heavier, pressing on my chest. Kael lingered in the doorway, his hand resting against the frame.
"Stay inside tonight," he said at last. "Do not leave this room until I say so."
He started to turn away, but something made him pause. His eyes met mine again, and for a moment, the air shifted. There was no anger there, no threat. Only something raw and uncertain that neither of us wanted to name.
Then, just like that, the moment was gone.
He closed the door behind him, and the sound echoed softly in the stillness.
I stood there for a long time, my mind replaying the fragments of their conversation. Moonblood. Prophecy. Destruction or salvation. The words circled endlessly in my head, each one heavier than the last.
My wolf stirred restlessly beneath my skin, uneasy, sensing something I could not. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the moonlight spilling across the floor.
Elder Sorin's words echoed in my memory, faint but insistent. He had looked at me as though he knew something I didn't, something I wasn't ready to face.
Outside, the wind whispered through the fortress walls, carrying with it the distant howl of a lone wolf. I couldn't tell if it was a warning or a call, all I knew was that something had shifted tonight. Something in the air, in Kael's eyes, in the bond between us.
And as I lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, I couldn't help but feel that whatever this prophecy was, it had already started to unravel, and I was right at the center of it all.