Chapter 4

SERAPHINA'S POV:

The pump house was a small, concrete room built into the side of the reservoir dam. It was dark, damp, and smelled of rust and decay. The moment the heavy iron door slammed shut, the sound of lapping water echoed all around me. It was the same sound I heard in my nightmares.

I backed into a corner, wrapping my arms around myself. The cold from the concrete floor seeped into my bones, but it was nothing compared to the chill in my soul. Images flooded my mind: Zayn's small hand slipping from mine, his blue face when they pulled him from the icy river, the silence where his laughter used to be.

The water level in the small chamber began to rise slowly, a deliberate, torturous design of the old disciplinary cell. It swirled around my ankles, then my knees. The air grew heavy, thick. I couldn't breathe. My wolf whimpered in my mind, a pathetic, dying sound. The darkness closed in, and I knew no more.

I woke up in the Pack's medical wing. The sheets were sterile and white. Damien was sitting in a chair by the bed, his head in his hands. He looked up when I stirred, his eyes showing a flicker of what looked like concern.

But it was a lie. I could see her, standing just behind him. Lila. She wasn't trying to hide the triumphant smirk on her face, or the scent of satisfaction rolling off her in waves.

"Oh, thank the Goddess, you're awake!" Lila said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "We were so worried."

She stepped forward, placing a hand on Damien's shoulder. "Damien, darling, I have an idea. Maybe the best way for Seraphina to overcome her trauma is to face it. She should teach Orion how to swim. It would help them bond, and it would help her conquer her fear of the water."

I stared at her, horrified. She wanted me to go back to that river.

Damien looked at me, his expression unreadable. He saw the terror in my eyes, the silent plea. He saw it, and he ignored it.

"That's an excellent idea, Lila," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. He turned to an aide. "Have the grounds crew begin excavating the old riverbank. The one we filled in after the accident. It will be the perfect place for them to practice."

My world tilted. He was ordering them to unearth the very spot where my son took his last breath.

The next few days were a blur of misery. Orion's fever didn't break. Damien's mother, the former Luna, swept into the medical wing with the Pack's Prophetess in tow, a shriveled old she-wolf whose eyes seemed to see into the darkest corners of the soul.

The Prophetess performed a ritual, burning herbs and chanting in the old tongue. After a long silence, she spoke, her voice a dry rattle.

"The manor is cursed," she declared. "A restless spirit haunts this land. A water-wraith. It is the spirit of the lost cub, Zayn."

My wolf let out a silent scream of rage. "My son is not a monster!"

"The spirit is jealous of the new heir," the Prophetess continued, her eyes landing on the feverish Orion. "It is draining the life from him, trying to pull him into the water with it. The source of its power is its connection to this land."

"What do we do?" Damien's mother asked, her voice trembling with manufactured fear.

"To save the future of this Pack," the Prophetess said, her gaze unwavering, "the spirit's earthly anchor must be destroyed. His remains... his ashes... they must be dug up and scattered into the eternal sea. Only then will his soul be severed from this place, and only then will young Orion be safe."

"No!" The word was ripped from my throat. I tried to get up, to fight, but I was too weak. "You can't! He's not a wraith! He's my baby!"

No one listened.

Just then, a servant rushed in, her face pale. "Alpha! The young master, Orion! He's delirious! He keeps saying... he keeps saying a little boy is in his room, asking him to come and play in the water."

Lila let out a theatrical sob. Damien's mother clutched her chest.

All eyes turned to Damien. The pressure in the room was immense. The future of his Pack. The life of his "new heir."

He looked at me, his face a stone mask. And then, he gave a slow, deliberate nod.

"Do it," he said. "Dig up my son's grave."