The Elder Approach
661 Words
chapter 17
Amina pov
I feel him before I see him.
The city is loud—horns, footsteps, voices overlapping—but beneath it all, something old moves wrong. The air thickens, pressure settling low in my spine like a warning I learned to obey long before I learned how to smile like a human.
An elder.
I slow my steps but don’t stop. Stopping too suddenly is an invitation.
“You walk too openly for a watcher,” a voice says behind me.
I keep my gaze forward. “And you walk too confidently for someone who doesn’t want to be noticed.”
A soft chuckle. Dry. Amused.
He falls into step beside me like we’re old acquaintances. If anyone looked closely, they’d see an ordinary older man in neutral clothes, hands clasped behind his back.
If they looked closer, they’d run.
“You are Ashira,” he says. Not a question.
“Yes.”
“You were not summoned.”
“No.”
“That is a problem.”
I stop then. Turn to face him.
His eyes are pale. Not weak—ancient. The kind that has watched bloodlines rise and rot and never bothered to care which side won.
“I am not interfering,” I say evenly. “I am stabilizing.”
He studies me. “You are anchoring yourself to a human girl tied to a royal Alpha.”
“She doesn’t know that.”
“She doesn’t need to,” he replies. “Her blood already answers.”
My wolf recoils.
Careful.
“You elders like to speak as if fate is settled,” I say. “But fate shifts when too many hands pull.”
His smile is thin. “That is precisely why I am here.”
We stand there, city noise flowing around us like water around stone.
“You feel it too,” he continues. “The convergence.
The Alpha King restraining himself. The beta shielding. You, pretending coincidence.”
“I am protecting her,” I repeat.
“From us?” he asks lightly. “Or from him?”
I don’t answer.
That tells him enough.
“You Ashira pride yourselves on balance,” he says. “But balance requires distance. You are growing… attached.”
A beat.
“And so is the beta.”
My jaw tightens despite myself.
“That bond,” the elder goes on, “will complicate things if allowed to root.”
“Or it could prevent bloodshed,” I counter.
His gaze sharpens. “Or it could provoke it.”
He steps closer. Not threatening. Just close enough that the air goes cold.
“Here is your warning,” he says quietly. “Stay within your role. Observe. Shield if you must—but do not redirect fate.”
“And if fate is cruel?” I ask.
He tilts his head. “Then it is efficient.”
I feel the urge to bare my teeth. I don’t. Elders feed on reactions.
“She is not livestock,” I say.
“No,” he agrees calmly. “She is a solution.”
The word makes my stomach twist.
He straightens, already disengaging. “Enjoy your proximity while it lasts, Ashira. Kings eventually stop restraining themselves. And bonds”—his eyes flick briefly, knowingly—“always demand completion.”
He turns and melts back into the crowd.
The pressure lifts, but the warning lingers like a bruise.
I exhale slowly and touch the small charm at my wrist—pack-crafted, grounding.
They’re accelerating, my wolf murmurs.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Which means we don’t leave.”
Across the city, I feel it—a brief, sharp awareness.
Kael.
Not calling.
Just… checking.
I straighten my shoulders and keep walking.
If the elders think I’ll step away now, they’ve misunderstood Ashira entirely.
Because balance doesn’t mean neutrality.
Sometimes—
It means choosing a side before the blood starts to spill.
- Writer
