Alpha's Cursed Bride
A child named River—descendant of every line, her essence a blend of courage, connection, healing, wonder—sits beneath the oak with her hands in the air, catching drifting petals.
She is seven, all questions and light.
She does not speak.
She feels.
The petals land on her palms, soft as memory.
She smiles.
The garden smiles with her.
An elder named Stone—descendant of Rowan, his presence steady as earth—joins her.
He sits, back against the oak, eyes closed.
He does not speak.
He remembers.
The garden remembers with him.
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