Chapter 8 #2
Kaelioth gave no answer at first—only silence, then a breath.
He leaned in, voice dropping into something almost sacred.
“When you take in what stirs beneath the surface—grief, fear, flame, sorrow—you carry what is not yours. But you are not meant to hold it. Guide it. Ease it. And when it belongs to another, return what you receive as clarity, as courage.” His gaze sharpened.
“But remember this: the spirits did not grant you this gift to manipulate. Emotions are not yours to shape. Influence is not control. Respect that, or this power will corrupt you.”
A chill ran through her. “How do I give it back…without overstepping?”
Kaelioth motioned toward her. “Try. Focus on me.”
She closed her eyes, reaching for the sorrow still tangled in him. It was vast, a grief so deep it had shaped him, but she did not grip it or claim it. Instead, she let it pass through her, found the warmth within—understanding, compassion—and sent it back along the thread.
The sorrow softened, dimming at the edges like a fading ember.
Kaelioth exhaled slowly. “You are learning.” His voice was steady, but the ache beneath it lingered. He sat in silence, yet the old grief in him remained.
Eris didn’t move. What she’d touched still pulsed in her. She couldn’t carry it for him. Only ease it, only for a breath, then let go.
She looked up. His weathered face was gentler now. His gaze searched hers, as if waiting for her to see what he already knew.
Something flickered in his eyes, familiar. She saw him again: the Lycan child from the vision, laughing with Seraphina, eyes full of devotion. That same gaze stared back at her now, older but unchanged.
Her breath hitched as the truth settled. The grief he carried wasn’t just for Seraphina’s death; it was for everything she had meant to him.
“It was you,” she whispered. “The baby by the river… You were that child.”
He nodded, eyes shadowed with memory. “Yes. I was that child: lost, alone, foolish enough to stray too far from the den.” He looked down, the spring’s surface rippling his reflection.
“I wandered into the forest, drawn too close to the river’s edge.
I thought it would swallow me whole. But Seraphina found me.
She saved me from the current, from the darkness waiting in the woods. ”
Eris’s throat tightened. The weight of his past pressed against her, woven into every word.
Kaelioth exhaled, his voice quieter now. “She gave me more than life. She gave me purpose. Seraphina taught me everything—the spirits, the balance, the harmony of the world. She saw something in me before I ever could.”
But her mind snagged on another piece of the vision. It had not only shown Seraphina’s love. It had shown Kriponius. She had seen the warmth in his eyes, the way he looked at Seraphina as if she were everything. That image clashed violently with the tyrant who had shattered their world.
She swallowed hard. “Kaelioth…in my vision, Kriponius was not a monster. He was just a boy, gentle and full of love for Seraphina. How does someone like that become something so cruel?”
The shaman’s face darkened, sorrow hardening into something bitter.
“Kriponius was kind once,” he admitted. “But kindness is not invulnerable, Eris. It is fragile. Corruptible.” He paused.
Then, quieter: “And he was not strong enough to protect it.
Power is a blade. It elevates or destroys, depending on the hands that wield it.
Kriponius let himself be shaped by the worst of what surrounded him: expectation, greed, the lure of control.
He let the vilest parts of himself win. And in the end, he became unrecognizable.
” His voice cracked, just for a moment. Kaelioth turned away, his shoulders rigid as he held himself together by force alone.
“She was everything to me. And he destroyed her…just to break me.”
Eris swallowed the ache in her throat.
Kaelioth closed his eyes. The wind carried their silence. “But with you here, Eris, her truth will rise from the abyss he cast it into. You are her legacy. You are our hope to finish what she was denied.”
The truth in his words settled heavy in her.
“What if I fail?” she whispered. “What if I cannot be what she was?”
Kaelioth’s gaze softened. “Banish those doubts, child. The spirits chose you for a reason.” He leaned forward, voice unwavering.
“You have already done what no one else could. You united a pack that once shunned your kind. You shine with a light that cannot be ignored. Even Kareon is no longer untouched by you.”
Eris flinched. “What do you mean?”
Kaelioth studied her, as if weighing the depth of her denial.
“You already know.” The wind stirred, rustling the leaves.
“You are the tether he never sought—the force he cannot fight. Wolves love once, and when they do, it is absolute. He has already bound his wolf to you. You could destroy him, and he would let you. He is your fiercest protector. And you…his most dangerous weakness.”
The truth settled heavy in her chest. She wanted to deny it, but something deep inside her already knew. The realization cut sharp.
No. I will not be his undoing.
Her hands trembled, as if something sacred—and dangerous—had just been placed in them.
How could she live with herself if she was the reason his fire burned out? If battle claimed him because his instinct chose her first?
The runes shimmered faintly beneath their feet, the grove holding its breath. Her own breath wavered as she turned to Kaelioth. “I will not be the reason he breaks,” Eris said, quiet but certain. “Whatever this bond demands, I will carry it, and I will protect him with all that I am.”
Kaelioth held her gaze. For a long moment, he said nothing.
The wind moved between them, soft, approving.
Ancient. Then he turned, eyes lifting to the forest’s edge, where night thickened like smoke.
“The forces beyond this den are watching. They are coming. And when they do, they will not simply stand against you. They will try to erase you as they did with Seraphina.” A chill slid down her spine.
“Be strong, child. And never lose faith.”
Eris swallowed. The weight in her chest was inevitable. Inescapable. After a breath, she bowed her head, a solemn sign of respect. “Thank you, Kaelioth. For showing me the way when I was lost.”
He watched her. Something flickered in his amber eyes, not just approval, but something deeper. Then he returned the gesture.
Without another word, she turned. Her steps were sure, even as her mind raced ahead. Kareon’s golden eyes burned in her thoughts, raw, unguarded, filled with something she couldn’t ignore.
She had to find him. The thread between them was strained, but not yet severed—frayed by fear, pulled taut by everything left unsaid. And before fate, battle, or the chaos ahead could snap it completely, she would mend it.
Kaelioth remained still as Eris vanished over the hill, dusk casting her in fading gold.
Even after she was gone, he did not move, as if the ground still held the echo of her presence and the air whispered of what was yet to come.
Slowly, he knelt by the spring, fingers grazing the earth where ancient runes pulsed faintly beneath his touch. The water shimmered, stirred by the night breeze. For a moment, he saw not his own reflection—but hers.
Seraphina.
The woman who had been his breath. His always.
His voice was a murmur. “You were right, my love. She carries your fire. Your light.” He exhaled, the weight of his promise settling deep into his bones. “I swore I would guide her. And I will…until my last breath.”
The wind stirred, curling around him like a warm, familiar caress. It was not just breeze. It was her.
He closed his eyes and smiled.
“Wait for me, my love,” he whispered. “I am coming to you, one breath at a time.”
Eris walked with purpose. Kareon felt her presence before he saw her: a shift in the air, a pull in his blood. Then came slow and measured footsteps. She drew closer, until something inside her faltered.
He looked up.
Across the den, Eris met his gaze, torn between fear and something deeper, something she was not ready to name. Kareon did not move, not until she stood close enough that the tension between them stretched taut, a thread pulled to the point of breaking.
His warriors were still talking, still marking battle maps, but Kareon was not listening.
His focus was entirely on her. For a moment, something flickered behind her eyes: doubt, fear, want.
Then, without a word, she turned and stepped into a nearby tent.
She did not call to him or look back, but she hesitated just long enough for him to see it. An invitation.
He followed.
The fabric whispered shut behind him. He did not speak. He simply stood there, arms crossed, waiting.
Eris’s breath came fast and sharp, as if she were holding herself together by force. She had rehearsed this moment in her head again and again, but now that she stood face-to-face with him, it all unraveled.
She swallowed hard. “Kaelioth explained the bond to me,” she said, her voice trembling but steadier with each word.
“I understand now.” She drew in a breath, her hands curling into fists.
“He said…” Her voice faltered, the words lodged in her throat like splinters.
“He said I’m your greatest weakness. And I will not allow that.
Because…” A shudder ran through her as the storm behind her ribs broke loose. “Because I cannot lose you.”
She lowered her gaze. The admission drained something from her. She was breaking in front of him, and he felt it—the chaos beneath her skin, the fear she had not yet learned to name.
For a long moment, Kareon said nothing. His golden eyes held hers, not with surprise or satisfaction, but with something quieter. Understanding. He had waited for her to say it, but not like this. Not with fear.
He stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders to steady her.
Then he smiled, soft and grounding. “Eris,” he said, voice low and rough with all the things he had never spoken.
“You are not losing me.” He paused, his thumb tracing the curve of her collarbone in a slow, anchoring motion.
"I have too much left to do.” A flicker of warmth touched his face.
“And I refuse to die before I’ve seen you begrudgingly admit I was right at least once. ”
There he was. Kareon, her anchor. Her fierce protector. He never tried to fix her. Just saw the chaos and stayed anyway.
For a moment, just a breath, she let out a laugh. Breathless and fleeting. The tightness in her chest eased, and Kareon saw it. Felt it. The moment stretched between them.
Eris remained where she was, still tangled in emotions she had not yet named.
Kareon did not step back either. Instead, his fingers brushed the chain at his neck.
He hesitated, then let resolve settle into his hands.
He pulled it over his head, the cool metal slipping through his fingers.
“Wear this,” he said, meeting her gaze as he fastened the chain around her throat.
“So you remember that no matter what happens, I’m always with you. ”
The words sank deep. She touched the charm, held it close, and smiled. Moon above, that smile. He would have gone to war for less.
She knew she should pull away. She almost did.
But something inside her cracked. Before she could stop herself, she stepped forward, her hands finding his back.
Then she was in his arms, as if gravity had made the decision for her.
Her fingers tightened, holding on like he might vanish if she let go.
She pressed her forehead to his chest, exhaling into his shirt.
His strong arms wrapped around her unyielding.
She felt the thunder of his heart against her as he buried his face in her hair, breathing her in like something he could not afford to lose.
His hands traced down her back, reverent, memorizing.
Soon, she would be in Stephan’s arms, and the thought burned.
Because she was his. His blood knew it. His wolf knew it.
And so did she, even if she could not yet admit it.
Then the air shifted. The temperature dropped suddenly. The candle beside them flickered, then died.
Eris’s breath wavered, then stopped. She went still, unnaturally still. He pulled back just enough for their eyes to meet. Her pulse slowed, her body locked, and her eyes emptied.
Kareon’s wolf went rigid.
“Eris?”
Nothing. No answer. No blink.
Then she whispered in a voice that belonged to something else, something ancient.
“Katian tos keltara…katian tos kentara…katian tos kiranai.”
Kareon’s body locked. Ancient Lycan. She did not know that language. Yet she had spoken it as if it had always lived inside her.
Heat rolled off her skin, sweat clinging to her as she sagged. Kareon lunged, catching her before she hit the ground. He gripped her shoulders and shook her.
“Eris,” he said, voice raw. “Who is watching? Who is waiting? Who is coming for you?”
Her eyes fluttered, just barely. Hope surged, then vanished. Her body went slack in his arms.
Kareon froze. His wolf, his blood, every part of him locked in fear.
“Eris,” he whispered. “Stay with me.”
She did not move. For the first time, he was afraid. Someone was coming for her, and he would die before he let them take her.