Chapter 16 - Reeyan #2
“Names fade. Dates blur. What remains are stories told to teach lessons rather than preserve facts.” Isla waves a gnarled hand.
“But there is one story. An old legend most dismiss as wishful thinking. It speaks of a Llewelyn woman with sight beyond sight—what you moderns call psychic abilities. The legend says this woman will bond with her true mate, and through that bond, she’ll channel enough power to shatter what binds all Llewelyn women. ”
My wolf perks up with interest. “A prophecy.”
“A story. A legend. Folklore that may or may not contain truth.” Isla fixes me with a look that sees too much.
“I never put stock in it myself. Psychic abilities don’t run in Llewelyn bloodlines.
Haven’t for generations. The protection that was given ensures our women stay grounded in reality rather than drifting into visions and prophecies. ”
“Because the curse suppresses those abilities,” Sera argues. “Just like it suppresses emotions and deep bonds. The protection wasn’t protection at all. It was imprisonment.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps it was exactly what our ancestors asked for, and they simply didn’t understand what they were asking.
Either way, the protection deepens with each generation.
The stories say it will continue until Llewelyn women become untouchable even to themselves.
Unable to feel or connect with their wolves. Living ice that cannot melt.”
The description makes my stomach turn. For a shifter, being disconnected from one’s wolf is unthinkable. “How long until that happens?”
“Who can say? Years. Decades. The magic works slowly enough that each generation doesn’t notice the change from their mothers.
But compare a modern Llewelyn woman to her ancestor from three hundred years ago?
” Isla shakes her head. “Night and day. Fire and ice. Everything that made us strong has been leached away in the name of protection. Or so the story goes. Legends are just stories we tell ourselves to feel less helpless. I’ve lived two hundred years and never seen a Llewelyn woman develop psychic abilities.
Never seen evidence that this prophecy is anything more than wishful thinking. ”
“Until now,” I say it quietly, but the words land like stones in still water.
Isla goes very still. Her rocking stops completely. “Until now?”
“Sera has visions.” The revelation feels like a betrayal, but she needs to know. “Started experiencing them right before Thornridge targeted her.”
The elder’s attention swings to Sera with laser focus. “Is this true?”
“Yes,” she admits with a nod. “The visions started a week ago. I saw Llewelyn women standing frozen with dark magic coiled around their hearts. A voice warned me not to speak of it to anyone within our territory, said someone would stop me from finding the truth if I did.”
“And have you?” Isla leans forward in her chair. “Bonded with your true mate?”
The question lingers in the space between us. Sera’s face doesn’t change, but I see color creep up her neck.
“Yes. The bond is complete.”
“Then perhaps the legend holds more truth than I believed.” Isla settles back in her chair, suddenly looking every one of her two hundred years. “Perhaps the ice can melt after all. But you must accept the bond. Not just complete it.”
We spend another hour discussing the details of what Isla remembers, comparing her oral histories to the written records we’ve gathered.
She shares more fragments—stories about women who tried to leave the pack and found themselves unable to form bonds elsewhere, tales of mates who grew frustrated with the distance and eventually walked away, and whispers of children born without the ability to connect properly to their wolves.
All symptoms of the curse are working their way deeper into Llewelyn bloodlines.
By the time we leave, the sun has started its descent toward the horizon. Isla sees us to the door with a warning.
“Breaking what was done will not be easy or painless. If this is true, the magic has been growing stronger for three centuries. It will fight to survive, and you’ll bear the worst of that fight.” She looks directly at Sera. “Are you prepared for that?”
Sera draws in a shaky breath and replies, “I don’t have a choice. Either I break it or watch my pack continue dying by inches.”
“Then may your bond be strong enough to withstand what comes.” Isla closes the door, leaving us standing on her porch in the gathering dusk.
We walk back toward the border in silence. My mind spins with everything Isla shared, connecting pieces to the historical records and Evangeline’s documentation. The pattern is clear now—a curse designed to isolate and weaken, sold as protection to a matriarch desperate to keep her pack safe.
And Sera might be the only one who can break it.
I’m so focused on processing the information that I almost miss the scent. Almost don’t register the wrongness of it until we’re nearly at the border.
Thornridge.
Multiple wolves. Recent enough that the scent is still fresh. Far too close to Llewelyn territory for comfort.
I stop walking and eye the tree line, every instinct screaming danger.
“What’s wrong?” Sera asks, but I can already see her nostrils flaring as she catches the scent too.
“They were here.” I move toward the border, following the scent trail. “Thornridge operatives. Recently, based on how strong this is.”
The trail leads to a ridge overlooking the path we took earlier. Perfect vantage point for surveillance. I find evidence of their presence—disturbed soil, broken branches, and the unmistakable scent markers that pack operatives leave when they’re mapping territory.
They were watching. Waiting. Gathering intelligence about Llewelyn’s defenses and patrol patterns.
And now they know Sera came back.