Braxton

The pack grounds were unusually still for an evening before a celebration. Most of the bustle had moved toward the forest clearing, where Mirae was orchestrating the final touches like a general at war with aesthetics.

Braxton had escaped to the training field, needing air. He worked through forms with a wooden blade, the rhythmic crack against the post grounding him in a way words never could.

The prophecy had left a weight in his chest he couldn’t shake — a quiet dread whispering that everything he loved was already marked by the gods.

He didn’t hear Eastin approach until the crunch of boots broke the silence.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Eastin said, stopping a few paces away.

Braxton lowered the blade. “Trying to remember what normal feels like.”

“Any luck?”

“Not much.” Braxton wiped his brow with the back of his arm, then nodded toward the faint glow of lanterns in the distance. “Your friend’s planning a small war out there.”

Eastin huffed a quiet laugh. “Mirae’s been waiting her whole life to boss the entire pack around. Don’t take it from her.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, the sounds of evening settling — crickets, the crackle of torches, faint laughter from somewhere beyond.

Eastin finally said, “You seem… distracted.”

Braxton’s jaw tightened. “Emry.”

“I figured.”

“She’s trying to be calm,” Braxton said, voice low. “But I can feel it. The prophecy’s not something she can outrun, and I don’t know how to protect her from it. I’m her mate — that bond’s supposed to mean I can keep her safe. But this?” He gestured toward the horizon. “This is bigger than claws or teeth.”

Eastin studied him quietly. “You love her. That’s what matters.”

Braxton gave a dry laugh. “Love didn’t save anyone in the last prophecy. It just gave the gods more to destroy.”

Eastin looked away, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “Maybe. But love’s also what brought the moon back every night after the world broke. It’s what keeps people fighting when everything else is gone.”

Braxton turned toward him, brow raised. “You sound like a man who’s starting to believe again.”

Eastin hesitated, then sighed. “Maybe I am.”

Braxton’s gaze sharpened. “Lira?”

The corner of Eastin’s mouth twitched. “She said yes.”

“To the ceremony?”

“Yeah.”

A rare, genuine smile tugged at Braxton’s lips. “Good for you.”

Eastin leaned against the post beside him. “It’s strange. I keep catching her scent before she’s near — like my instincts are already ahead of me.”

“That’s how it starts,” Braxton said knowingly. “The bond sneaks up on you. One moment you’re just existing, and the next your entire world rearranges itself around her heartbeat.”

Eastin’s expression softened, then clouded. “She’s been through hell, Brax. Losing Kael… it nearly broke her. I don’t want to be another wound she has to carry.”

“You won’t be,” Braxton said. “You’ll be the one that heals.”

Eastin glanced at him. “You really believe that?”

“I have to,” Braxton said. “Because if I don’t, what’s the point of any of this? The prophecy, the bonds — it can’t all just be punishment. There has to be balance somewhere in it.”

They fell silent again, both men staring out toward the glow of lanterns where Mirae’s laughter drifted faintly through the air.

After a while, Eastin said quietly, “You’re good for her, you know. Emry.”

Braxton gave a small, almost self-conscious smile. “She’s good for me too. Makes me remember I’m human.”

Eastin nodded, thoughtful. “She’ll need that. The more power she touches, the more she’s going to forget how to breathe like the rest of us. Just… remind her she’s not the goddess yet.”

Braxton met his gaze, something unspoken passing between them — understanding, respect, and the shared fear of what it means to love women strong enough to break fate itself.

“I’ll remind her,” Braxton said quietly.

Eastin nodded once, then straightened, stretching his shoulders. “You better go clean up before Mirae catches you and drags you into flower duty.”

“Hell would freeze first.”

“Careful,” Eastin said, a faint grin ghosting his face. “In this world, it might.”

They parted ways, the tension between them eased but not gone — two warriors bound by blood and love, standing on the edge of a night that would mean more than either of them could guess.