Kevin was ten years old when he felt his mate for the first time. It wasn't the sweet pull older wolves described around bonfires when they spoke of destiny. It was pain- a dull ache beneath his breastbone, sharp enough to stop him mid-drill. He pressed a hand to his chest, confused. It hurt. Enough to make him wonder how much worse it felt for the person on the other side.
That thought hunted him more than the pain.
That somewhere in the world, someone was suffering. And somehow their heart has reached his.
The elders said that the Moon Goddess blessed every beast-born with a single fated mate. Not everyone met them. Some died before fate allowed it. Some belonged to the tribes separated by wars, oceans and ancient borders. Some never even learned their mate's name. But the bond always existed—a thread woven before birth.
Among wolves most only sensed them after coming of age, when their wolf fully awakened. A few exceptionals felt faint emotions earlier. But no one had ever carried their mate's pain for years.
When Kevin asked his grandmother if it was normal, she only frowned before kissing his forehead.
"It means the moon has entrusted you with something precious."
That hadn't answered anything.
Life continued. Morning training with his father. Lessons with the elders. Hunting and Politics. Learning how to become the future Alpha of his clan.
His pack was one of the oldest beast tribes left in the world. Long before humans built kingdoms of stone, the world belonged to the beasts. The great tribes ruled every corner of it-the canines the forest, the felines the grasslands, the aves, the skies, the piscene the seas. Others claimed mountains, rivers, deserts and swamps. Some had vanished. Others evolved into something unrecognisable.
Humans believed they were myths. That's exactly how the beasts tribes preferred it.
Centuries ago, humans discovered what beasts hearts could do. Beast blood strengthened spells. Since then coexistence had become impossible. Hunters crossed borders for profit. Witches bargained for beast organs. Warlocks experimented on captured children. Entire villages disappeared overnight.
So the tribes hid–deep in the forests and mountain valleys, behind ancient barriers woven with moon magic, in hidden civilizations that appeared on no map a human could read. But danger still found them. Rogue beasts–wolves without packs, lions without prides, ravens cast from their flocks—raided settlements constantly. Some wanted territory. Others wanted chaos.
Peace had become a story grandparents told their pups before bedtime. Kevin grew up knowing every journey outside the territory could become someone's last which made the ache beneath his ribs impossible to ignore.
Every morning, every afternoon, every night, Kevin listened to it.
Some evenings, after training that left his muscles sore, he'd collapse onto his bed without changing clothes and close his eyes, feeling the distant–thump–thump. It lulled him to sleep better than any lullaby.
Other nights he imagined who they were. Did they like climbing trees? Were they clumsy? Did they hate vegetables? Were they another wolf? His guesses changed every week. Only one thing remained constant. He adored someone he never met.
"You've got that stupid smile again."
Steven threw an apple at his face. Kevin caught it.
"I was thinking."
"About your mysterious mate?"
"No."
"Liar," Steven snorted. "You have been staring into the distance since five minutes."
"I wonder what they are doing?" Kevin said, ignoring him.
Steven groaned dramatically. "Oh, Moon save us."
"Our little brother is hopeless," His twin Stephan murmured.
"He is ten." Steven said
"Already whipped." Stephan added.
Kevin launched the apple at him. Stephan ducked. Steven clutched his stomach and laughed. Within seconds the brothers were rolling across the grass, kicking, wrestling, trying to pin one another.
"Boys!"
Their father's voice cracked across the training yard. Three guilty faces looked up. The Alpha stood in front of them with his arms crossed, stern for exactly three seconds before the corners of this mouth twitched.
"You three are impossible."
He grabbed Stefan by one ear and Steven by the other. Kevin got the same treatment a minute later, and the three of them marched towards their mother to complain about their father. While other wolf warriors laughed openly behind them. Kevin complained the loudest.
Years passed. The ache never disappeared, but it changed- the sharpness faded until it became something like an old scar.
Every so often Kevin would wake up and feel nothing. He'd sit upright, hand pressed to his chest, in panic. Where was it? What happened? Was his mate—.
Then, minutes later, the familiar ache would return. He never admitted it aloud, but he should have been relieved when the pain lessened–it probably meant his mate was healing. Instead, some selfish part of him wished they wouldn't. Because pain meant they were alive. And silence meant uncertainty.
"You realize this isn't normal, right?" Steven asked one evening.
The three brothers sprawled across their grandfather's bed after training.
Kevin shrugged.
"I know"
"I have never felt my mate." Steven said.
"We won't until we come of age." Stefan added. "We are older than you."
Kevin looked away. "I know."
"You probably imagined it."
His jaw tightened. "I didn't."
"You were ten."
Stefan sighed. "We are not saying you are lying. But maybe you imagined it—"
Kevin stood. "You think I am crazy?"
"No, I think you are an idiot."
Kevin shoved him. Stefan shoved back. Steven muttered "Here we go again," as another fight broke out.
The world outside the pack grew only darker. Border wars erupted between beast kingdoms. Rogue attacks grew bolder. Entire settlements vanished. Human hunters ventured deeper into forbidden forests, rumours spread of witches capturing young shapeshifters alive. Every report tightened the knot in Kevin's chest. His mate was out there, and he couldn't protect them. The only certainty he had was the 'thump' that wasn't his own.
Then, one summer afternoon everything changed. Kevin was training near the waterfalls that marked the eastern border when he heard laughter. Someone was swimming. He followed the sound and found a boy surfacing from the water, shaking droplets from his messy brown hair.
Kevin froze. Something about him felt familiar. His wolf stirred instantly. Hope explodes in his chest.
The boy noticed him and grinned. "You scared me."
"Sorry."
"I am Devon."
"I am Kevin."
Devon talked enough for both of them–laughing loudly, asking ridiculous questions, challenging Kevin to races he always lost. He was a little dumb, too trusting and entirely kind. Kevin found himself looking forward to every afternoon by the waterfall, for the absurd conversations and stupid reasonings.
Maybe this was it, after all.
That good mood died down the same evening. Kevin was alone in his room when agony ripped him. He doubled over, a sound tearing from his throat before he could stop it. He couldn't breathe.
Tears spilled down his face — for loss, grief, and despair that wasn't his. Yet he felt everything.
When it finally eased, the ache remained, deeper than before.
Kevin wiped his face. His mate was grieving.
He almost asked Devon the next day. The words reached his tongue but he hesitated to say it aloud. Are you my mate? If it was Devon he would say something–wouldn't he? So Kevin waited. Days became weeks, and weeks became months. They kept meeting each afternoon. Never once speaking of fate and mates. Maybe they were simply too young to know. Hope refused to die completely.
Nearly a year later, Kevin learned pain could always get worse. He was sitting beside his mother at breakfast. When his vision blurred and he couldn't breathe—horrifyingly familiar like that evening, a year ago, only magnified until it swallowed everything else.
His mother caught him before he hit the floor.
"Kevin!"
He couldn't answer. Something terrible had happened to his mate. Something that couldn't be reversed.
Hours later he found Devon waiting beside the waterfall. His eyes were swollen. His hands trembling.
"My mother," Devon whispered. "She died this morning."
Kevin's heart lurched. For one impossible second, everything seemed to align. Surely–
Then Devon began to cry, his grief was new. But the agony inside Kevin didn't change. It started long before Devon cried and it remained exactly the same. Without any fluctuations.
Devon wasn't hiding anything. He never could—every emotion he felt was always visible across his face.
Devon wasn't his mate.
Kevin wrapped his friend in a quiet hug. "I am sorry."
Devon cried into his shoulder until sunset. When they finally parted, his chest still ached. His mate was somewhere beyond the horizon hurting.
For the first time Kevin understood that fate could let you care for someone deeply without them ever being the one your soul had been searching for.