Chapter 13

Freya 

  Two days after that night outside the fence, Mira found me just as I was finishing breakfast.

“Clear your morning,” she said, setting a hand on the back of the bench. “Come to the clinic when you’re done. This will take time.”

There was something in her tone that made me look up properly. It wasn't urgency in her voice, nor was it panic, but weight. 

“What kind of time?” I asked.

“The kind you don’t rush,” she replied. “Finish eating. Take your time, but not too much time.” 

She didn’t wait for my answer. She just turned and walked out, and even though I'd sworn to myself to remain positive out here, something about that just didn't sit right with me. 

I stared at my bowl for a moment longer, then set the spoon down. I wasn’t hungry anymore.

The clinic looked different when I stepped inside.. It was still clean, still orderly in a way the rest of Thornfield wasn’t, but the center table had been cleared completely, and in its place were three old books laid open, their pages yellowed and fragile. Beside them sat a large sheet of paper covered in Mira’s handwriting, tight, precise, and dense enough that it looked like it could swallow a person whole.

Mira stood behind the table, sleeves rolled, expression composed.

“Good, you're finally here,” she said, gesturing to the chair across from her. “Sit.” 

I did. For a moment, neither of us spoke, then she exhaled, and I could swear she was deliberate about it.

“I am going to tell you everything,” she said. “So listen up.” 

“What do you mean?” My hands tightened slightly in my lap. “Everything about what?”

“You,” she said simply. “And what you’re carrying.”

“Okay.” The room felt smaller suddenly but I didn't move, because I didn't trust myself to not bolt out of here and never come back. “Start,”

Mira nodded once, like that was the answer she expected.

“There is a prophecy,” she began, her voice even. “It's old, older than most of the structures that currently govern how things work.”

I said nothing as she reached for one of the books and turned it toward me, though the script was too faded and foreign for me to read.

“It states: The Luna without a wolf will birth the king who breaks the crown.” The words settled into the air between us.

“Well.” I frowned slightly. “That’s… vague.”

“It is precise,” Mira corrected. “You were believed to be without a wolf, that was the first condition.”

“But I wasn’t without one,” I said quietly.

“No,” she agreed. “You were made to appear that way.”

“The child referenced in this prophecy is not just any child.” She tapped the page lightly. “It is one with enough power to disrupt the current structure of leadership entirely.”

“Disrupt how?”

“The council controls succession,” she said. “They approve leadership, they oversee bonds, and they dictate what is allowed to exist and what is not. A child powerful enough to exist outside of that control is not just unusual.”

“It is a threat.” Her eyes lifted to mine. “Do you understand?” 

I leaned back slightly in my chair,allowing her words to really sink in. 

“You’re saying my child….” I stopped, and corrected myself. “This child is supposed to… what? Tear all of that down?”

“I am saying,” Mira replied carefully, “that the council believes it is possible.”

Silence stretched for a second,then I let out a slow breath. “That sounds like their problem.”

“Oh no,dear.” Mira didn’t smile, and I hated that it sent shivers down my spine. “It became yours the moment they realized who you were.”

Something in my chest shifted, but I didn’t speak. 

“What I found in your blood,” Mira reached for the second book as she continued, “confirms something I suspected but hoped I was wrong about.”

“Your bloodline predates every existing pack structure.” She slid the paper toward me, tapping a section I couldn’t fully understand. “It traces back to the earliest wolves who established territory before there were systems to govern them.”

“Mira, no.” I blinked once. “That’s not possible.”

“It is,” she said calmly. “Your blood is not weak. It is not defective, it is the oldest strain we have a record of.”

My fingers curled slightly against my palm.

“Then why….” I stopped, the question catching in my throat but Mira answered anyway.

“Because it was hidden.”

“Oh.” The room went very still. “What do you mean, hidden?”

“I mean,” she said, each word measured, “someone placed a suppression seal on your wolf when you were very young.”

The words landed heavier than anything she had said so far.

“A seal?” I repeated.

“Yes.”

“That’s… not something that just happens.”

“No,” she agreed. “It requires knowledge, power and intent.”

My voice came out quieter. “Why?”

“Simple.” Mira didn’t hesitate this time. “Because they were afraid of you.”

“They knew what your bloodline meant,” she continued, but the air in my lungs felt thinner. “They knew what you could become. So they made sure you would never know it yourself.”

I pressed my eyes shut for a fraction of a second, and images flashed in my mind, uninvited. I relived my father's disappointment, the healers shaking their heads and the whispers.

They'd called me all sorts of things. Useless, broken, nothing there.

“They made me look weak,” I said slowly.

“Yes.”

“They made my father believe it.”

“Yes.”

“They made sure I ended up…” I cut myself off but Mira finished it anyway.

“Exactly where you were least likely to have power, voice, or influence.”

My hands tightened in my lap until my knuckles ached. For a long moment, I said nothing..The anger didn’t come the way it used to. It didn’t burn, but it settled.

When Mira finally fell silent, I lifted my head. I didn’t ask why, I didn’t ask how. I asked the only question that mattered.

“Who else knows I am here?”

Mira paused. It was brief, barely there, but I saw it. I had spent too many years learning to read the spaces between words to miss something like that.

“Mira,” I said, my voice steady. “Who knows I am here?”

“A message may have reached…” She set the book down carefully before answering. “..certain individuals who can be trusted.”

My gaze didn’t waver. “Who.”

“I contacted an old colleague,” She exhaled once before she continued. “A healer at the court. Someone I trust completely.”

“For what reason?” I asked. “Why?” 

“For confirmation,” she replied. “Your blood markers are significant enough that I needed access to records I do not have here.”

The understanding came immediately. If someone at the court knew, then it wouldn’t stay contained. It never did.

“Freya—” my name had barely slid past her lips before I stood up.

“Thank you,” I said, cutting her off gently and she stopped.

I meant it. I was really grateful that she had told me the truth. It mattered, but it didn’t change what came next. Without a word in her direction, I turned and walked out of the clinic without waiting for her to say anything else.

I didn't stop walking, not until I made it back to my room without speaking to anyone. I closed the door behind me and sat on the edge of the cot.

For a long time, I didn’t move. I just thought about the seal, about the years, and about every moment I had been made to feel small. It hadn't been an accident, but something that had been constructed. 

This time, Eliza wasn’t quiet.

She was awake in a way I hadn’t felt before. She was angry, and in the worst ways possible. 

“They knew,” she said, her voice a growl beneath my ribs. “They knew what we were.”

“They took it,” My hand pressed flat against my chest as she continued. “On purpose.”

I swallowed. The anger in her wasn’t wild. It was offended, like something ancient had been insulted.

I stared at the wall across from me, my mind moving through the pieces. There was a prophecy about a sealed wolf, and a message already sent.

“They’re going to come,” I said aloud and this time, Eliza didn’t argue. That was the confirmation that I was right. 

“Let them,” she didn't reassure me, and for the first time, the thought didn’t fill me with fear.

It felt like the beginning of something else.