Chapter 12 - Buried Truths
1062 Words
By the time Elara returned to the room, exhaustion sat heavy beneath her skin.
The room greeted her with the same rigid order as before. Nothing had shifted. Every object remained exactly where Thorne preferred it, leaving the entire space feeling untouched by her presence despite the few things she had already brought into it.
She crossed toward the windows overlooking Draegon territory while the bond lingered steadily at the edge of her awareness.
Even with distance between them, she could still feel him somewhere inside the territory.
The realization irritated her more than she cared to admit.
Below, wolves moved through the lower grounds in disciplined patterns while patrols rotated near the gates. From above, Draegon looked built on control, every movement sharpened by years of surviving conflict without falling apart beneath it.
A knock interrupted the quiet.
Soft enough to sound hesitant.
“Come in,” Elara said.
The door opened slowly before Seren stepped inside, hands loosely clasped in front of her.
“I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“You’re fine.”
Seren moved further into the room, though her attention drifted briefly toward the windows before returning to Elara.
“The grounds are quieter tonight,” she said. “People are still talking about earlier.”
Elara leaned against the nearby desk.
“That seems to be happening often lately.”
A faint smile touched Seren’s mouth before fading again.
“When opinions start changing in Draegon, people usually resist it first.”
Elara studied her carefully.
“You sound like you’ve experienced that yourself.”
Seren’s gaze dipped for a moment before lifting again.
“I have.”
Unlike most people inside Draegon, Seren never reacted defensively whenever the pack came up. She sounded cautious sometimes, worn down occasionally, but never blindly loyal.
That difference kept standing out.
For a moment neither of them spoke while movement continued below the windows.
Finally, Elara straightened slightly.
“I need information,” she said. “Records. Reports. Anything involving Valamere and Draegon.”
Seren’s expression changed immediately.
“Elara…”
“That isn’t an unreasonable request.”
“No,” Seren admitted. “But it could become a dangerous one.”
The hesitation in her voice sharpened Elara’s attention immediately.
“You know where the records are.”
Seren stayed silent long enough to answer the question for her.
“That doesn’t mean I can help you reach them.”
“Why?”
She exhaled slowly.
“Because some things inside this pack were buried deliberately.”
Frustration tightened through Elara’s chest.
“You keep avoiding direct answers.”
Seren looked genuinely conflicted now, caught somewhere between concern and loyalty.
“I’m trying to stop you from walking into something you don’t fully understand yet.”
“And I’m tired of everybody expecting me to accept fragments instead of truth.”
Silence stretched between them while fading sunlight spilled across the mountains surrounding Draegon.
Finally, Seren spoke again.
“There are records beneath the western hall,” she admitted. “Old reports. Council correspondence. Territory disputes.” Her fingers tightened briefly together. “Access stays restricted.”
“To who?”
“Thorne. Kaia. Rowan.” A pause followed. “A few others.”
Elara absorbed that quietly.
“So the answers are there.”
Seren’s expression tightened again.
“Elara…”
“I’m asking for documents, Seren. Nothing more.”
Something unreadable crossed Seren’s face before she glanced away.
“You don’t understand what this pack lost.”
Elara’s jaw tightened.
“And you think Valamere walked away untouched?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“No,” Elara replied. “But it’s what people here keep implying.”
Regret crossed Seren’s expression before composure returned.
“I was trying to help.”
“I know.”
The edge left Elara’s voice, leaving exhaustion behind instead.
“That still doesn’t change the fact that nobody speaks plainly.”
Another silence settled between them.
Then Seren nodded once, reluctant but resigned.
“You should be careful what you go looking for,” she said. “Some things survived long after the fighting ended.”
The warning lingered in the room before Seren finally turned and slipped out, closing the door gently behind her.
Silence returned almost immediately.
Elara exhaled and turned back toward the windows.
Then somebody cleared their throat behind her.
She spun so fast her pulse slammed painfully against her ribs.
Nyra stepped out of the closet looking far too entertained with herself.
“Oh, good,” she said. “Your instincts still function.”
Elara pressed a hand briefly against her chest.
“One day I’m actually going to stab you.”
“You say that with affection now.”
“That wasn’t affection.”
Nyra grinned and crossed toward the center of the room.
“The Omega confirmed enough to make me uncomfortable.”
“You heard all of that?”
“I hear most things.”
That answer explained absolutely nothing.
Nyra’s expression shifted as she moved beside the window.
“There’s more.”
Elara’s attention sharpened immediately.
“The pack’s guarding a section near the town,” Nyra said. “Heavy patrol concentration. Rotations changed twice while I watched.”
Elara frowned.
“That close to town?”
“That’s what caught my attention.” Nyra folded her arms loosely. “Nobody patrols that aggressively unless they’re protecting something.”
Unease settled beneath Elara’s skin.
“What did you see?”
“Almost nothing. Which usually means whatever’s there matters.” Nyra glanced toward the lower grounds below. “The wolves stationed there looked tense.”
That detail mattered.
Elara looked back across Draegon territory while thoughts continued fitting themselves together.
Hidden records beneath the western hall.
Restricted access.
A guarded section near town nobody wanted approached.
Too many things inside Draegon felt carefully contained beneath silence.
Nyra watched her for a moment.
“You’re doing the thing again.”
Elara glanced toward her.
“The thing where you start connecting problems nobody else wants connected.”
Despite herself, Elara almost smiled before the feeling faded again.
“This pack is hiding more than the truth about Draven’s death.”
Nyra leaned lightly against the wall beside the windows, her gaze fixed on the territory below.
“Good,” she said. “Because I’m getting tired of pretending otherwise.”
- Writer
