Where Love Began and Ended

The guest cottage was cozy and warm, with hand-hewn wooden beams and a stone fireplace that crackled cheerfully against the evening chill.

Chief Morrison's pack had been more than generous—they'd provided fresh clothes, hot soup, and most importantly, a comfortable bed where Orion now lay in his supernatural slumber.

I sat in the wooden chair beside the bed, studying his peaceful face in the flickering candlelight. His dark brown hair had dried into soft waves that fell across his forehead, and his breathing was deep and steady. If I didn't know better, I might think he was simply enjoying a restful sleep after a long day.

But I did know better. Behind those closed eyelids, behind that serene expression, his consciousness was trapped in a labyrinth of memories spanning lifetimes.

I could only imagine what he was experiencing—the battles, the bloodshed, the political machinations that had defined his existence as a conquering king.

And worse, he was probably reliving the moment I died in his arms, the moment our love story had ended in tragedy and betrayal.

*Whatever you're seeing now,* I thought, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, *I hope it doesn't break you the way it did me.*

The touch of his skin sent familiar warmth through my fingertips, that electric connection that had always existed between us.

Even unconscious, even lost in the past, he was still my mate. Still the other half of my soul.

I'd spent years trying to avoid this exact scenario. After remembering my past life, after understanding the destructive cycle we'd been trapped in, I'd made the conscious choice to stay hidden. I'd buried myself in remote corners of poland capital city, and never travelled outside—all to prevent us from finding each other again.

Because I'd known this would happen. The moment we reconnected, the supernatural forces that bound us would reassert themselves with devastating intensity.

The memories would flood back, the old wounds would reopen, and we'd be forced to confront everything we'd lost.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

The sound of rain beginning to patter against the cottage windows drew me from my brooding thoughts.

It started as a gentle drumming, then grew heavier, more insistent. The scent of petrichor—that clean, earthy smell of rain on dry ground—drifted through the slightly open window.

I stood up restlessly, unable to remain still any longer. The cottage, cozy as it was, felt confining. I needed air, space, movement. Something to quiet the storm of emotions churning inside me.

Grabbing a woolen shawl that one of the pack women had left for me, I slipped outside into the rain.

The cool droplets felt like a blessing against my skin, washing away the lingering traces of river water and fear.

I tilted my face upward, letting the rain cascade down my cheeks, soaking through my hair and clothes. For a moment, I could pretend I was just a woman enjoying a summer shower, not a reincarnated queen carrying the weight of a thousand years of love and loss.

The freedom was intoxicating. I began to move, my feet finding their own rhythm against the muddy ground.

Dancing in the rain had always been one of my secret pleasures—something wild and uninhibited that connected me to the part of myself that remained untamed by civilization.

I spun and swayed, my arms extended, letting the music of the storm guide my movements. For the first time in days, I felt truly free. No disguises, no running, no fear—just me and the elements and the ancient joy of being alive.

But freedom, I'd learned, was often fleeting.

My foot caught on something—a moss-covered rock hidden in the tall grass—and I stumbled forward, my hand shooting out instinctively to catch myself. My palm slapped against the rough bark of a tree, and I used it to steady myself as I regained my balance.

It wasn't until I straightened up that I really looked at what I'd grabbed onto.

My breath caught in my throat.

It was a yew tree. Ancient and massive, with a trunk easily six feet in diameter and branches that spread like protective arms over the surrounding clearing.

The bark was deeply grooved with age, and something about it—the shape, the positioning, the way the moonlight seemed to favor its silhouette—struck me as achingly familiar.

I moved closer, drawn by an inexplicable magnetism. My fingers traced the ridged bark, and that's when I saw them.

Carvings. Faded by centuries of weather but still visible to someone who knew where to look.

My heart stopped.

There, etched into the ancient bark in letters I recognized as my own handiwork, were two names:

*Orion Lockwood & Stella.*

*Mates Forever*

Stella. My true name from that lifetime and also this.

Tears sprang to my eyes as the memories crashed over me with stunning clarity. This place. This tree. I had stood here before, centuries ago, carving these very words with a small silver knife while Orion watched indulgently from nearby.

Even back then the yew tree had been a thousand years old back, some had called it the ancient tree, it's age as old as time - and by now it was two thousand years old, still the tree existed and stood, carrying the my carving - for a thousand more years.

"Are you marking your territory, my love?" he'd teased, his arms sliding around my waist from behind.

"Our territory," I'd corrected, leaning back against his chest. "This is where we'll always be safe. Where no one can hurt us."

How wrong I'd been.

I sank to my knees at the base of the tree, my hands pressed against the earth as more memories flooded back. This clearing, this cottage—it had been our refuge.

Orion had brought me here when the political tensions in our kingdom became too dangerous, when rival Alphas began circling like vultures, sensing weakness in our united front.

We'd been happy here, for a brief, shining moment. Away from the court intrigue, the constant warfare, the burden of ruling an empire built on conquest and fear.

Here, we'd just been mates. Lovers. A family.

Because we hadn't been alone.

My twins. Our children. Two perfect little ones with Orion's dark brown hair and my green eyes. They'd played in this very clearing while I carved our names into this tree, their laughter echoing through the forest like music.

And it was here that it had all ended.

I could see it now as clearly as if it were happening again. The attack had come at dawn—rival wolves who'd tracked us to our sanctuary. Orion had been away fighting the war and I had been left alone to fight the rivals.

And when they'd threatened the children, when I'd seen that silver blade raised toward my babies...

I'd thrown myself between them and death.

The blade had found its mark. I could still remember the burning agony as silver pierced my heart, the way my strength had bled out onto this very ground.

But my children had lived. I had managed to save them despite that, had fought off our attackers with the desperate fury of a mate avenging his beloved.

And then he'd held me as I died, right here beneath this ancient yew tree, his tears falling like rain on my face as he promised to find me again, to love me again, to do better next time.

I sobbed openly now, my tears mixing with the rain as I pressed my forehead to the earth where I'd once drawn my last breath. The pain was as fresh as if it had happened yesterday instead of centuries ago.

But slowly, through the grief, understanding began to dawn.

Fate hadn't just brought us back together randomly. It had brought us here. To this place.

To where our love story had ended so we could finally, perhaps, find a way for it to begin again.

We hadn't fallen from that plane by accident. We hadn't crashed into this particular river by chance.

Every step, every decision, every twist of fortune had led us back to this sacred spot where love had once died but where, maybe, it could be reborn.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and turned to look back at the cottage. Through the rain-streaked window, I could see Orion's still form on the bed, bathed in the warm glow of candlelight.

Was he seeing this too, in his trance? Was he reliving our final moments together, remembering how it felt to lose everything that mattered?

I hoped so. Not because I wanted him to suffer, but because we both needed to face what we'd been running from.

We needed to understand where we'd gone wrong, what had driven us apart, what had turned our love into something destructive and dangerous.

Only by confronting our past could we hope to build a different future.

Standing up slowly, I made my way back to the cottage, my clothes soaked and clinging to my skin but my heart somehow lighter than it had been in centuries. The rain continued to fall, washing the earth clean, preparing it for whatever would grow next.

Inside, I resumed my vigil beside Orion's bed, studying his face for any sign of change. His expression remained peaceful, but I thought I detected the faintest flutter beneath his eyelids, as if he were dreaming deeply.

*Whatever you're seeing,* I thought again, reaching out to take his hand in mine, *I hope it brings us closer to understanding. I hope it shows you that despite everything we've lost, despite all the mistakes we've made, the love between us becomes the salvation.*

*Worth living for.*

*Worth starting over for.*

The rain drummed against the windows, and I settled in to wait, knowing that when Orion finally woke from his trance, everything between us would change forever.

I could only pray it would change for the better.