Chapter 5 – A Vow Made

The courtyard lay hushed beneath the gray wash of morning. Smoke from last night’s fires clung to the stones, the faint scent of ash drifting between the timbered halls. Serenya lingered near the shadow of the old watchtower, away from the murmuring pack.

Their voices carried whether she wished to hear or not.

“She’s the reason wolves were sniffing around the village.”

“Cursed, or worse. Did you see the mark?”

“If Kaelen keeps her here, he’ll drag us all down.”

The words pressed against her ribs until her chest ached. She drew her cloak tighter, though the chill was not in the air but in the stares that followed her whenever she crossed the yard. Her fingers trembled as they knotted in the fabric.

Kaelen found her there, half-hidden against the wall. His boots struck hard on the flagstones, but his voice softened when he spoke.

“You shouldn’t listen to them.”

Serenya lifted her eyes, gray as storm clouds, and tried to summon a smile. It fell short. “It’s difficult not to when they speak loudly enough for me to hear.”

“They’re afraid,” he said. “Fear makes tongues careless.”

Her gaze dropped to the stones. “Or perhaps they are right. Since the night you brought me here, destruction has followed. Villages burned, whispers of prophecy. And me—” Her voice faltered. “I don’t even know who I am. How can I claim I bring anything but ruin?”

Kaelen studied her, the scar across his jaw catching the morning light. He did not answer at once, and that silence told her more than words.

“You feel it too,” she pressed, stepping closer, her voice low. “That my presence divides them. I’ve seen it in their eyes, in the way even your council looks at me. If I weren’t here—”

“Enough.” His tone cut through her words, firm but not unkind. “Don’t take their fear as truth. The pack has been divided long before you set foot on this ground. My father ruled by steel and suspicion. The fracture began with him. You only gave their doubts a new shape to cling to.”

Her breath caught. “Then I am the shape of their undoing.”

Kaelen’s jaw tightened. For an instant, he looked older than his years, burden heavy on his shoulders. “Perhaps,” he admitted. “But I won’t let them use you as a scapegoat. You carry no blame for what my father left broken.”

The words should have soothed her, yet they left her hollow. She searched his eyes, stormy gray locked on hers, and whispered, “Then why do I feel as though I do?”

He reached for her hand, rough palm enclosing her delicate fingers. “Because you care too much. And because you’ve yet to see that their fate isn’t yours to bear alone.”

The simple contact stilled her trembling, though her chest remained tight. His honesty cut deep, and the weight of his presence pressed closer, steady, immovable. For a heartbeat she let herself lean into it.

But from across the yard, a door slammed, jolting them apart. A pair of wolves passed, their narrowed eyes making clear what their whispers would be once backs were turned.

Serenya withdrew her hand quickly, cheeks burning. Kaelen’s expression hardened as he watched the men disappear, but when he looked back to her, it softened again.

“Come,” he said, voice low but commanding. “There are things I need to tell you—about the pack, about what they expect of me. You deserve to know the truth of what you’ve stepped into.”

She hesitated, torn between dread and the small, fragile hope that he might yet see worth in her presence. Finally, she nodded.

As he led her toward the inner hall, the air felt heavier, as though the stones themselves listened. His confession would be no simple comfort. It would be a vow, spoken or not, and it would bind them both more tightly than any whisper of prophecy.

And in the silence before he spoke, Serenya’s heart pounded with the sense that every word to follow would change her place in this stronghold forever.

The council chamber smelled faintly of oil lamps and old wood, its beams heavy with the weight of years. Shadows curled along the walls where weapons had once hung, relics of battles long fought. Kaelen pushed the door wide and let Serenya step inside before him.

The fire in the hearth threw light across the table at the room’s center. Kaelen leaned on it with both hands, shoulders squared, as if bracing against an invisible tide. Serenya lingered near the wall, wary of the silence that stretched between them.

“You asked why they fear you,” Kaelen said at last, his voice carrying the gravity of stone. “It isn’t only the mark they saw. It’s because they think I’ll choose you over them.”

Serenya’s breath caught. “Would you?”

His head lifted sharply. The fire painted harsh lines across his scar, but his eyes burned with something that shook her. “If I had to.”

The words pressed the air from her lungs. She stepped forward, but her tone was hushed. “You can’t say that. They are your blood, your charge. To place me above them—”

“They’re wrong,” Kaelen cut in, not raising his voice but firm enough that she stopped. “They believe I’m blinded by you, that you are some curse sent to unravel us. But I see more clearly with you here than I have in years.”

Her fingers brushed against the grain of the table, tracing scars in the wood as if they might steady her. “You barely know me. You don’t even know what I carry. If my past is what they whisper—if I’m tied to something dangerous—”

“I know enough.” His hand came down lightly on hers, halting her nervous movement. “You are not a danger to me, Serenya. You are the only thing in this place that feels like truth.”

Her lips parted, but no sound followed. She wanted to argue, to remind him of the bodies left smoldering in villages nearby, of the sigil that burned her skin. But his gaze held her fast, unyielding, as though daring her to deny the bond that tethered them already.

The fire popped, breaking the silence.

Kaelen withdrew his hand slowly, not in rejection but in restraint. His voice lowered, raw. “When my father led, he ruled through fear. His wolves obeyed, but they despised him. That fracture lingers. I cannot lead as he did—I will not. But if I claim you, if I make your place beside me undeniable, I risk tearing what’s left apart.”

Serenya’s heart thudded painfully. “Then don’t. Don’t stake everything on me. Let me leave—”

“No.” The refusal cracked from him like a whip. He caught himself, drew a steadying breath, then repeated, softer, “No. You’ll stay. I’ll bear their anger. Not you.”

Her throat tightened, emotion rising swift and sharp. “Why would you shoulder that for me?”

He met her eyes, unflinching. “Because I swore to protect you, and I keep my vows.”

The chamber fell into stillness. Outside, a howl broke against the night, long and distant, yet it threaded through the silence like a warning. Serenya stiffened.

Kaelen’s expression darkened, head tilting as though he weighed the sound. “That wasn’t one of mine,” he murmured.

Her blood chilled. The memory of burned villages and whispered hunts flared in her mind. She stepped closer without thinking, her voice barely audible. “They’ve come this far already?”

Kaelen’s jaw set. “Perhaps. Or perhaps they only circle, waiting for weakness. Either way, we cannot show it.” He straightened, shoulders like iron beneath his cloak.

Serenya wanted to tell him she was afraid, that the howls seemed to reach for her alone, but the words snagged in her chest. Instead, she whispered the truth he had given her moments before. “Then you cannot face them divided.”

His eyes cut back to her, sharp and unreadable. “No. Which is why tomorrow, I’ll summon the council. If they doubt me, let them speak it to my face. And if they test my vow…” He let the thought trail, but the firelight caught the steel in his gaze.

Serenya felt the weight of his decision pressing closer, as though the walls leaned in. Whatever he swore tonight, tomorrow it would no longer be private. His pack would hear it. Judge it. And her place among them would no longer be in shadow.

The howl echoed again, nearer this time. Kaelen turned toward the door, every muscle tense. “Stay here,” he ordered. “I’ll see to the patrols.”

But Serenya stepped into his path, her storm-gray eyes searching his face. “And leave me in the dark again? No. If I am to bring division, then let me face it, too.”

For a breath, neither moved. Then Kaelen’s mouth curved in something fierce and fleeting, half admiration, half despair. “You’ll be the end of me,” he muttered.

And with that, he pushed the door wide, the night’s chill rushing in, carrying the sound of another distant howl.

The hall was full before the first torch had burned halfway down. The air vibrated with whispers, every voice hushed yet heavy with suspicion. Serenya felt the weight of every gaze on her as Kaelen led her to the table’s head. She kept her chin lifted, though her heart rattled against her ribs.

Mireya, sharp-eyed and unflinching, leaned on the table’s edge. “This should have been a council of wolves, not… this.” Her glance flicked toward Serenya. “She doesn’t belong here.”

Kaelen didn’t so much as blink. “She stays. If you have something to say, speak it where she can hear.”

A ripple of dissent ran through the room. One of the elders, his hair white as frost, pushed himself upright with a groan. “Alpha, we’ve tolerated her presence, but the mark she carries? That is no blessing. It’s an omen.”

“An omen that drew Eryndor’s wolves to our borders,” another snarled. “Villages burn, and the woman they seek sits under our roof.”

Serenya flinched at the bite in his words, but she steadied herself. Silence would brand her guilty. So she stepped forward, her voice quiet but steady. “Do you think I asked for this mark? Do you think I wanted my name lost to me, or visions that tear through my sleep?” Her gray eyes swept the room, meeting the fury and fear in their stares. “If you believe I bring ruin, tell me where you would have me go. Into Eryndor’s hands? To the sorceress who whispers my name before I can speak it?”

Murmurs erupted, uneasy and jagged.

Kaelen cut across them, his voice low but carrying. “She is not the cause of your fear. She is the reason we still have a chance.”

Mireya’s eyes flashed. “A chance? Or a distraction?” She shoved off the table, circling him like a challenger. “You claim her, you’ll tear this pack apart. Half will follow, half will break. Is that the strength you want before a rival Alpha?”

Kaelen’s restraint strained. His scar pulled tight as his jaw clenched. “What I want is loyalty. And what I will not allow is weakness masked as fear. If you doubt me, speak it plain.”

“I doubt her,” Mireya snapped. Her finger jabbed toward Serenya. “I doubt whatever she is. You want our trust? Prove she’s not a curse. Prove she’s not here to end us.”

The room froze. Serenya’s blood ran cold. Every whisper, every shadow of suspicion, pressed into that moment.

Kaelen’s chair scraped as he pushed it back. He rose, towering over them all. “Enough. If you cannot trust her, trust me. My vow is her shield. Anyone who strikes at her strikes at me.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Elders shifted, some muttering prayers, others grim-faced. The fire in the hearth spat embers as though it, too, felt the tension splintering through the room.

Then the doors slammed open. A guard stumbled in, blood streaking his arm. His chest heaved, his eyes wild. “Alpha—at the border pass. Eryndor’s scent. Fresh.”

The chamber erupted in chaos. Wolves surged to their feet, voices colliding, fear sparking like dry tinder.

Kaelen’s voice cut above the din, harsh and commanding. “Quiet!” The hall fell still under the force of it. He turned to Serenya, his gaze searing. “Stay here.”

But Serenya shook her head, her pulse pounding. “If they’re coming for me, you can’t leave me behind.”

The guard staggered, blood dripping onto the stone floor. “They’re not just circling. They’re close.”

Kaelen’s jaw tightened. The pack’s doubts, the mark glowing on Serenya’s skin, the rival Alpha’s approach—it all tangled into one burning truth. The time for whispers was over.

“Then we meet them head-on,” Kaelen said, voice like steel. “Every wolf to arms.” His gaze lingered on Serenya a heartbeat longer, softer but no less fierce. “And you—stay in sight. No more shadows.”

The council scattered in a storm of motion, but the unease lingered in every set jaw and muttered word. Serenya’s heart raced, the echo of that howl from the night before ringing louder now, closer.

Something told her the next clash would not be at the borders alone.

The courtyard roared with the sound of steel clashing against shields as the wolves of Drazmir armed themselves. Torches hissed in the mist, shadows stretching tall across the stone. Serenya stood at the heart of it, her pulse caught between fear and something sharper—resolve.

Kaelen barked orders, his voice cutting through the night. “Form the lines! Scouts forward. No strays.” His presence filled the air, every command weighted with authority.

Mireya slid into place beside him, blades strapped across her back. “The scent is heavy, Alpha. Eryndor’s close.” Her eyes darted toward Serenya, the mistrust still simmering, but her focus stayed on the coming fight.

A sudden hush fell when a figure stepped from the shadows at the gate. Alone. Cloaked in gray, hood low, hands lifted. The wolves bristled, ready to strike.

Kaelen motioned them back with a flick of his wrist. “Let him through.”

The figure limped forward, dragging one leg. When the hood fell back, a battered face appeared—scarred, bloodied, yet smirking with a wolf’s arrogance.

“Eryndor sends his greetings,” the messenger rasped, voice raw from running or from torment. His amber eyes gleamed even through the bruises. “And his terms.”

Kaelen’s jaw hardened. “Speak them.”

The man’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “Hand over the girl. Do so before the harvest moon rises, and your pack keeps its lands. Refuse, and the valley burns.”

Gasps rippled. Serenya felt the heat rise to her cheeks, the weight of every stare like knives pressing against her skin.

Kaelen’s voice was ice. “Tell your master I bow to no tyrant.”

The messenger tilted his head, mockery flashing. “He expected as much. That’s why he waits in the pass with twice your numbers.” He spat blood onto the stone. “But he’ll take her all the same. The choice is whether the rest of you live to see it.”

Mireya’s blade was half-drawn before Kaelen’s hand stopped her. He stepped closer, gray eyes unyielding. “Carry this message back. If he dares step into my lands again, he’ll leave in pieces.”

The messenger laughed, harsh and broken. “Then prepare your graves.” He turned to leave, limping toward the gate.

“Wait.” Serenya’s voice rang out, steadier than she felt. She took a step forward, her gray eyes locking on him. “Tell Eryndor this: if he wants me, he’ll have to face me himself.”

The courtyard froze. Even Kaelen’s breath hitched at her words.

The messenger’s grin widened, cruel and knowing. “Then perhaps you’re not as fragile as he thought.” He bowed mockingly before vanishing into the fog.

Silence stretched, broken only by the restless shuffling of wolves.

Mireya hissed under her breath. “You’ve just painted the mark brighter.”

Serenya’s hands trembled, but she forced them still. “He’s coming whether I hide or not. Better he knows I won’t go quietly.”

Kaelen’s gaze burned into hers, fierce and conflicted. “You’ve just challenged the most ruthless Alpha in the highlands.”

Serenya met his eyes without flinching. “Then I’ll face what’s mine to face.”

The torches guttered as the wind howled through the stronghold, carrying with it the distant echo of wolves. A chorus—low, hungry, and far too close.

Every wolf in the courtyard lifted their head at once, ears pricked, bodies tense. The sound rolled through the valley like a promise of war.

Kaelen’s hand brushed the hilt of his blade. His voice was grim, steady, carrying across the stones.

“They’re already here.”