로그인Winter’s POV
At first, I think I am awake. Everything feels too real not to be. The cold beneath my feet. The sound of water moving somewhere nearby. The sharp wind brushing against my skin hard enough to make my arms ache. But when I look around, nothing makes sense. The world is dark. Not nighttime dark. Wrong dark. The kind that swallows shape and distance until everything around you feels endless. I stand still, breathing carefully as icy water curls around my ankles. My white dress drags heavily against my legs, soaked from the tide pulling in and out around me. Ocean. I realize it slowly. I am standing in the ocean. The water stretches endlessly ahead, black and violent beneath a sky with no stars. My chest tightens. I should not be here. The thought comes instantly. This place feels familiar in the worst possible way, like something I have seen before in pieces I could never fully remember. The wind sharpens suddenly. And then I hear it. My mother’s voice. “Winter.” I spin around immediately. Nothing. Only darkness. Only water. But the voice comes again, softer this time, almost swallowed by the waves. “Winter, listen to me.” Fear crawls slowly up my spine. “Mother?” My own voice sounds strange here. Too small. The ocean shifts violently around me, waves slamming harder now against my legs. I stumble slightly as freezing water rises higher, pulling at me like hands trying to drag me deeper. “Do not let him take it,” my mother’s voice says again. Closer now. Urgent. “He cannot have it.” My heart starts racing. “What?” No answer. Only the sound of the ocean roaring louder. The wind screams across the water hard enough to whip my hair across my face, and suddenly the darkness ahead begins to move. Not naturally. Not like shadows. Something inside it opens slowly. An eye. Massive. Watching. My breath catches violently in my throat. It is the same eye. The same one from before. Silver around the edges but dark in the center, like a storm swallowing light whole. It stares directly at me from somewhere beneath the surface of the ocean, impossibly huge and impossibly alive. The moment I see it, panic crashes through me so hard my knees nearly buckle. “No,” I whisper. The water rises instantly. Up to my thighs now. Pulling harder. The eye does not blink. It only watches. And suddenly images begin flashing around me so fast I cannot process them properly. Blood on stone floors. Keon shouting my name. Someone turning toward me with something unreadable in their eyes. A necklace glowing silver in my hands. Fire. Water. Screaming. The images slam into me one after another until my head hurts. Then the ocean beneath me disappears. I fall instantly. The scream tears from my throat before I can stop it as freezing air rushes past me. Darkness spins violently around me, and below more ocean. Wild. Endless. Waiting. I hit the water hard enough to lose breath immediately. Cold crashes around me from every direction as I sink deeper, dragged downward faster than I can fight. Panic explodes through me as I kick violently toward the surface, but something catches around my ankle. Holding me. Pulling harder. I open my mouth to scream again and saltwater floods my throat instantly. Then I hear her voice again. Closer. Desperate. “Wake up.” The eye appears beneath me again. Watching. Waiting. And this time— It speaks. Not in words. In feeling. Ancient. Hungry. Possessive. "Mine" The force of it crashes through my chest so violently that pain explodes through the mate bond, sharp enough to feel real. And suddenly another emotion slams into me too. Not mine. Keon’s. Fear. Pure. Violent. The connection snaps so hard it feels like something physically yanks me upward— And I wake with a gasp. My body jerks violently against the bed as air rushes back into my lungs. My chest heaves painfully, panic still clawing at my throat as I try to understand where I am. Dark ceiling. Warm room. Not the ocean. Not the dream. My breathing comes too fast. Too sharp. And immediately— Hands grab my shoulders. “Winter.” Keon. His voice cuts through the panic instantly. I look up at him, disoriented and shaking. He is sitting beside me on the bed already, eyes sharp with alarm, his grip firm enough to steady me without hurting. “You’re here,” I breathe. The words come out broken. Confused. Keon’s brows pull together immediately. “Of course I’m here.” The bond is chaotic right now. I can feel his emotions crashing against mine almost as strongly as my own. Fear. Relief. Tension. And underneath it— Pain. My gaze drops instinctively toward his side. The exact same place that hurt earlier. His jaw tightens the moment he notices where I am looking. “You felt that too,” I whisper. It is not a question anymore. Keon does not answer immediately. Which is answer enough. My throat tightens again as pieces begin sliding together in my head. “The dream…” I say softly. His expression sharpens instantly. “What dream?” I swallow hard. “The eye came back.”Keon's POV: The chamber had become so quiet that the steady, low hiss of the burning torches seemed to echo off the vaulted ceiling. Not a single chair scraped against the stone floor. Not a single person shifted their weight. Even the oldest, most battle-hardened wolves in the room knew better than to interrupt Derrick once he reached this point. He stood over the old Delta without crowding him. He didn’t need to. The sheer difference in height and presence alone was enough to pin the man in place. "...Let's start again," Derrick’s voice remained cool, almost conversational, cutting through the heavy air. "Where were you yesterday?" The old Delta swallowed hard, his eyes darting briefly toward the ancient black granite table before locking back onto the prince. "I... I already submitted my official report, Prince Derrick—" "You did," Derrick agreed with a slow nod, his expression entirely unreadable. "And it was false." A sharp muscle jumped beneath the old wolf's jaw, th
Keon's POV: The torch fell back into place with a heavy, metallic thud as the massive oak doors slammed shut behind us. This room, its history ran deep into the very bedrock of our territory. It was a space built on ancient foundations, a chamber designed for a past that our ancestors had tried to bury. Four Clans. One table. Some clans had stood the test of time, adapting and surviving the turning of the ages, while others had vanished completely into ash and memory. Yet, through the rise and fall of regimes, one thing had remained completely constant. The table remained. Carved from a single, gargantuan slab of black granite, its polished surface formed an enormous, intricate compass. North. East. West. South. Time and centuries of heavy use had weathered the edges smooth, but not even the turning of the world had managed to shift its direction. Legend claimed that before the Great Wolf-Witch War, the stone compass had turned freely, spinning on a mystical axis to refl
Keon's POV:Sleep had become a courtesy I occasionally extended to my body. Nothing more.The dawn hadn't yet broken, but the palace was already beginning to stir beneath my window. Guards changed shifts below in practiced, rhythmic silence, their armor clinking softly in the heavy air. Life continued. It always did, entirely indifferent to the wreckage left in its wake.I rested both hands against the cold stone railing of the balcony, leaning my weight forward and letting the rain-soaked wind strike my face. The icy droplets bit into my skin, but it still wasn't enough to drown out her scent.Gods. Even after washing. Even after changing clothes twice. Even after forcing myself to stay on the absolute opposite side of the palace, away from her wing of the castle, she lingered. Not on my skin, where the physical trace could be scrubbed away, but somewhere deep beneath it. The bond pulsed quietly beneath my ribs, simply existing.I closed my eyes, a heavy sigh escaping into the dark
Winter's POV: Neither of us spoke for several minutes. The fire had burned lower in the hearth, leaving the room bathed in soft amber and silver where the moonlight slipped through the curtains. Somewhere outside, rain tapped gently against the stone balcony, a rhythmic, soothing backdrop to the storm that had just settled between us. Sabrina broke the silence first. "...Can I see it?" I looked up, momentarily taken aback by the request. "The mark," she clarified, speaking carefully this time, as if handling something incredibly fragile. "The soulmate mark." For a heartbeat, I simply stared at her. The secret had been hidden under layers of fabric and concealment charms for so long that revealing it felt like exposing a raw nerve. Then, without a word, I nodded. I stood from the chair, suddenly very aware of my own body again. Derrick's oversized shirt hung loosely around my frame, the soft fabric brushing against my thighs as I turned around, turning my back to her. "It isn'
Winter's POV I lowered my eyes, watching the moonlight ripple faintly across the surface of the nearly finished tea in Sabrina’s cup. The pale liquid caught the silver light, trembling slightly with every heavy breath I took. I had never narrated this to anyone other than Mother, and now that it was finally out in the open, the space between us felt entirely rearranged. "I don't think I told you everything," I murmured, my voice barely carrying over the crackle of the hearth. Sabrina had just taken another bite of the berry dessert. She paused mid-chew, her sharp gaze locking onto mine as she slowly swallowed. She set her spoon down with deliberate care, the soft clink against the ceramic sounding remarkably loud in the quiet room. "Considering we've spent the last hour discussing what might become the greatest diplomatic headache of the century," she said, her dry tone laced with a sudden, underlying tension, "that's a rather concerning sentence. What didn't you tell me?" I dr
Winter's POV I pause as a sudden realization chills me. "Did he—" She nods, her expression turning somber. "Keon told me about your second attack. He knew I needed to understand the full scope of the danger we're dealing with if I'm going to help get it out." She takes another bite from the dish tray, chewing thoughtfully before continuing. "As I was saying. The first thing Derrick asked when we arrived was about you. Not the treaty, not the perimeter security, not the casualty report. You. Wonder why?" I tilt my head in confusion, my brows furrowing. I think about what she'd just said earlier, trying to piece the puzzle together, but the logic feels just out of reach. "I don't get it. Why would a scent marker make him drop his guard?" She sighs. "Sometimes I forget you're not a werewolf. In our world Winter, you don't live in a world governed by instincts you can't see, smell or feel. Wolves rule, live by, and establish dominance by their senses, one of which is the sense of
Chapter 63: Winter's POV The room is silent after her last words. If the Eye of The Witcher, the single most important ancient symbol of protection and favor to Witchkind that hasn't been reported to make a single appearance since the Wolf-Witch War, wasn't what scared her, I don't know if I
Winter's POV For a long moment after my mother's words, neither of us speaks. The room is quiet except for the occasional crackle from the fireplace and the distant sounds of the palace beyond the walls. I should be thinking about the relics. Or the attacks. Or the eye from my dreams. In
Winter's POVThe silence after my mother's words feels heavier than anything that came before them."If he is right, Winter... then the attacks against you are not random anymore."The sentence hangs in the air between us long after she finishes speaking.I stare at her.She stares back.For the fi
Keon stands from the chair, waving to me slightly before walking out. Probably to welcome Mother or something. They spend a good five minutes together, discussing in hushed tones.When Keon mindlinks me goodbye, I know it's time to face the music.I'm shaking.Why am I shaking?The door closes qui







