Ragnar's POV
The smoke from the sage burning had settled on the walls, in the joints between the stones. There was a weight in the air, the weight of tradition, the weight of laws made long before I was born.
I sat at the head of the long table, my father’s empty chair at the far end. His absence was tangible, heavy. The elders sat silent, watching me — some expecting, some dreading.
None of them wanted me here.
Not yet.
Not without a mate.
But they had run out of options the minute my father’s heart stopped.
“The ceremony will be in three nights.” Elder Garreth said, voice steady. His long white beard brushed against the parchment before him. ‘Preparations have already begun. ’
I gave a slow nod, fingers curling tighter around the armrest.
Three nights.
Three nights to put to re
