There's a silence only wolves understand.
The kind that drops into your bones. Makes your lungs pause. Your heart stutter.
And the moment I felt her, that silence swallowed the grove.
"Kael," Celine said softly beside me, "are you listening?"
No.
Not to her.
Because everything in me had shifted.
"Kael?"
I looked up.
And there she was.
"Who…?" I whispered, barely audible.
A girl. Standing just outside the boundary line. Dark curls. Civilian clothes. Small. Frightened.
Wrong.
And yet—right.
"What is she doing here?" Celine's voice sharpened. "She shouldn't be—"
"I need to….."
"What are you doing?"
I stepped forward.
"Kael!"
"She's not supposed to…"
My feet crossed the circle.
The blade dropped from my hand.
Someone yelled. "Stop him!"
"Don't…" the girl breathed, stepping back.
But it was too late.
I reached her.
Her eyes locked on mine.
My hand lifted.
Her lips parted.
"Wait…."
I touched her.
Light exploded.
She screamed.
Collapsed.
I caught her.
"Kael!" Father's voice cracked through the air.
But I didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't breathe.
Because the mark had already burned across her skin, gold and searing.
And in that moment
I knew.
"She's not part of this!" Celine screeched.
"She crossed the boundary," the priestess muttered. "The bond activated."
"She ruined the ritual!"
"She didn't ruin anything," I said.
Father shoved past the crowd, face dark with fury. "You marked the wrong girl."
"I…" I looked down. "I wasn't in control."
"You think that excuses this?" he growled.
"She was drawn in. I felt it."
"You felt nothing but a mistake."
"It wasn't a mistake," I said, firmer.
Celine's laugh was bitter. "Oh? Then what is she?"
"She's… mine."
The priestess stepped forward slowly, eyes on the unconscious girl in my arms.
"She entered during the climax of the bond," she said.
"She's a human," Celine spat. "This is madness."
"She was chosen," the priestess replied.
"No," Father snapped. "She was a mistake."
I didn't speak.
Couldn't.
The bond pulsed between us, deep and steady.
Not broken.
Not wrong.
Just… unexpected.
"What's her name?" the priestess asked quietly.
I didn't hesitate.
"Aria."
Father's gaze sharpened. "You don't even know her."
"I do now."
The crowd muttered.
Celine turned on her heel, fury burning in her steps.
"She's nothing," Father said. "And you've just thrown away everything."
I looked at the mark on her neck.
"I don't care."