Chapter 12 - What the Seer Saw
828 Words
Kael
The sea smells like rain and iron.
Waves crash against the cliffs, white spray catching the light of a dying moon. I stand there for a moment, staring at the horizon where the world ends — or begins — and force my wolf to stay buried beneath my skin.
The Thorn pack’s territory is quiet tonight, too quiet. The kind of quiet that means the wards are holding… but just barely.
By the time I reach the seer’s hut, the wind has turned cold. The little shack looks carved from the bones of the cliff itself — stone, driftwood, and smoke. No windows. No door latch. Just the smell of salt, sage, and death.
I don’t knock. I never have to.
The door creaks open before I touch it.
The seer is waiting inside, wrapped in shadow and threadbare furs. Her white hair glimmers like cobwebs in the candlelight. Blind eyes stare directly at me, but somehow I know she sees more than sight ever could.
“You shouldn’t have come here, Kael Thorn.”
Her voice is smoke and gravel. “The sea’s been restless. The bond woke it.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“You always have a choice,” she murmurs, turning to stir the pot simmering on the hearth. The scent of ironroot and bloodweed fills the air — herbs for control, for clarity. “You just don’t like what either of them costs.”
The fire pops. Sparks leap toward the ceiling, burning out before they reach it. I watch them fall. “It’s happening again. The pull. The curse is feeding off it.”
She hums softly. “Tell me about the girl.”
I hesitate. Her name shouldn’t cross my lips in this place. But her scent still clings to my thoughts — wild honey, cold rain, and something older, something that feels like memory.
“Aria Blackwood.”
The seer freezes, her hand hovering over the cauldron. The air changes — heavier, charged. “Blackwood,” she repeats, almost to herself. “Selene’s chosen bloodline. The moon’s gift and her punishment, both in one.”
I cross my arms. “I need a way to stop it.”
Her head tilts, and I catch the faint curve of a smile. “You don’t stop fate, Alpha. You survive it.”
“That’s not good enough.”
She turns toward me then, and though her eyes are clouded, the weight of her gaze pins me where I stand. “You think this bond is just magic? No. It’s retribution. The goddess doesn’t curse without cause. She marked your line to learn what love does to power.”
I stiffen. “Love has nothing to do with this.”
Her laughter is dry as bone. “It always does. Tell me—when you felt her, did your monster quiet or hunger?”
I say nothing. That’s answer enough.
The seer steps closer, close enough that I can smell the salt and smoke in her robes. “You’ve spent your whole life fighting what you are. The curse feeds on that struggle. But she…”
Her voice softens. “She’s the one who could end it.”
“By killing me?”
“Perhaps.” Her hand brushes my arm as she passes, the touch feather-light but searing with something that feels like foresight. “Or by saving you. If she learns how.”
The fire flares brighter, throwing our shadows long against the stone walls. “Teach me, then,” I say. “Teach me to keep her safe.”
The seer shakes her head slowly. “You can’t teach mercy to a storm. You can only show it what stillness feels like.”
Outside, thunder groans over the cliffs, the kind that vibrates through bone.
She moves back toward the cauldron, voice turning almost tender. “You asked how to protect her. Here’s your answer: Don’t cage the bond. Don’t flee from it. Let it grow until it hurts. Only then will you see what it really is.”
“And what is that?”
“Your undoing,” she whispers. “And your salvation.”
I stand there long after her words fade, listening to the sea gnaw at the cliff. The air tastes like salt and prophecy.
When I finally leave, the wind nearly knocks me off balance. The sky is fractured, moonlight bleeding through storm clouds.
I look toward the horizon, where the Blackwood mountains loom like teeth against the dark.
I can feel her there — faint but alive, burning through the bond like fire through frost.
The seer’s warning echoes in my mind.
You can’t stop it. You can only choose how deep it takes you.
Lightning splits the sky.
The bond hums once — alive, inevitable, waiting.
And for the first time in years, I’m afraid.
Not of the curse.
But of what will happen when I stop fighting it.
- Writer
