Zylia's name pressed against my thoughts before I could stop it.
Her scent had faded from the halls, but the memory of her eyes... that stayed. That quiet defiance. The way she looked at me when I said the words that broke her.
The rejection had burned like silver through both of us. I'd told myself it was the right thing , that the prophecy left me no choice. That letting her go was mercy.
But the hollow in my chest didn't feel like mercy.
The door creaked open behind me. I didn't have to turn to know it was Lucien. He'd never been good at hiding his footsteps.
"You're still awake," he said quietly.
"Apparently so are you."
He came to stand beside me, folding his arms over the railing. "Half the warriors can't sleep either. The whole pack feels... off."
"Off?"
Lucien exhaled, his breath fogging the cold air. "Like something's missing. Or breaking."
I didn't answer. I didn't have to.
Lucien's gaze flicked to me. "You feel it too."
I stayed silent.
"Killian," he said, voice softer now. "It started the day you cast her out."
The words hit harder than I wanted them to.
"She was a threat," I said, though the sentence felt like a lie even as I spoke it. "The prophecy,"
",says a lot of things," Lucien cut in. "But it never said she'd destroy us."
My hands tightened on the railing. "You weren't there that night. You didn't see the flames. You didn't hear the Goddess's voice."
"And maybe you didn't understand it."
His tone wasn't defiance , it was worry. That made it worse.
"The pack depends on me to protect them," I said. "If the Goddess warns that claiming her brings ruin, then I don't question it."
Lucien studied me for a long moment. "Maybe the ruin isn't what happens if you claim her... but what happens because you didn't."
His words landed like a blow. The air between us thickened.
I turned away, staring into the forest that stretched beyond the walls. Somewhere past those trees, she was out there , alone.
The bond I'd tried to sever still pulsed faintly at the edge of my consciousness. Not strong enough to follow, but enough to ache. Enough to remind me that no matter what I said, some part of me would always know if she stopped breathing.
Lucien sighed. "You need rest."
"I don't sleep much anymore."
He hesitated before nodding once and leaving me to the night.
When the door closed, I let the silence press in again. The wind had changed. It carried the scent of rain , and something darker beneath it.
Guilt. Or maybe warning.
I stayed there until exhaustion dragged me under.
But exhaustion wasn't mercy, it was punishment.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the way she looked back before the guards dragged her through the gates. There hadn't been fear in her eyes, only something far worse. Disappointment.
The moon hung low above the forest, pale and watchful, like it was waiting for me to make another mistake.
I told myself again that I'd done the right thing, reminding myself that strength demanded sacrifice.
But the bond pulsed once, faint and stubborn, like a heartbeat that refused to die.
And I hated myself for feeling it.
***
I didn't know when I drifted into sleep. That didn't matter though.
Flames devoured the training yard , silver flames, too bright, too pure to be natural. They climbed the walls, swallowing the banners, twisting the symbol of the pack into ash. Wolves ran, their howls melting into screams. I tried to command the fire to stop, but it only grew.
And in the center of it stood Zylia , untouched, her eyes glowing silver.
Her voice carried over the roar of the blaze.
"You can't outrun what you're bound to, Killian." Her voice echoed.
The ground cracked beneath my feet. The emblem of our pack split apart, molten light bleeding through the fractures.
When I reached for her, she turned to ash.
I woke with a jolt , breath ragged, palms burning like I'd actually touched the fire.
The room was silent again, but the scent of smoke lingered, faint and unreal.
I looked down at my hands. Silver dust clung to my skin.
And for the first time since her exile, I couldn't tell if the nightmare had ended , or just begun.
Whatever was coming was dangerous....it was violent.
It was something I never prepared for.