Claimed In Ruins

Chapter 4

Eryndra found the girl sitting outside the lower shrine with her knees pulled to her chest and three broken charm stones scattered beside her boots.

“You’re supposed to cleanse those before throwing them away,” Eryndra said.

The girl jumped hard enough to nearly knock over the lantern at her side. “Gods. Don’t do that.”

“You’re the one sneaking around ritual alcoves.”

“I wasn’t sneaking.”

“You looked guilty.”

“I always look guilty around you.”

Eryndra crouched beside the scattered stones and picked one up carefully. “Because you keep breaking ward charms.”

“I break one thing and suddenly that’s my entire reputation.”

“You broke six.”

The girl grimaced. “Fine. Maybe seven.”

“Eight.”

“That last one exploded unfairly.”

Eryndra brushed ash from the cracked surface of the charm stone. “What are you doing down here, Liora?”

Liora hesitated.

Young. Nineteen maybe. Too curious for her own good. She’d started assisting the shrine keepers three months ago and asked questions with the reckless confidence of someone who still believed answers made life easier.

“Can I ask you something?” she said finally.

“You just did.”

“That wasn’t— you know what I mean.”

Eryndra sat down beside the shrine wall instead of returning to work upstairs. The corridor was quiet this deep beneath the mountain. Only the lantern flame moved.

“Go on,” she said.

Liora picked at one of the broken stones with her thumb. “Is it true you can’t ever have a mate?”

Eryndra looked at her evenly. “That’s direct.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“You could’ve asked less recklessly.”

“That’s also fair.”

A small silence settled.

Liora looked embarrassed now, though not enough to stop herself.

“You don’t have to answer,” she muttered.

“I know.”

“But?”

“But you came down here carrying enough curiosity to choke on it.”

That earned the smallest smile from the girl.

Eryndra turned the broken charm stone over once in her hand. “The vow doesn’t forbid a bond from existing.”

Liora frowned slightly. “Then what does it forbid?”

“Claiming it.”

“That sounds worse.”

“It is.”

The answer slipped out too honestly.

Liora’s expression shifted immediately. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“You asked a question.”

“Still.”

Eryndra set the broken charm stone beside her boot.

Most wolves treated the Seer-Warden vows like old sacred stories. Necessary. Distant. Symbolic in the way traditions became symbolic once enough years passed between ordinary people and the ones forced to carry them.

But Eryndra carried them every day.

Liora spoke more carefully this time. “Why does the vow exist?”

“Because sight changes around attachment.”

“That sounds vague.”

“It’s supposed to.”

Liora huffed softly. “You do that on purpose.”

“Yes.”

“But seriously.”

Eryndra leaned her head back against the cold stone wall behind her. “A Seer-Warden’s visions are already unstable. Emotion makes them worse.”

“How?”

“You stop seeing what’s there.” A pause. “You start seeing what you want.”

Liora looked down at her hands. “That can’t be the whole reason.”

“No.”

“What’s the rest?”

Eryndra was quiet for a moment.

The lantern crackled softly between them.

“There was a Warden once,” she said finally, “who ignored the vow after bonding.”

Liora listened without interrupting.

“She loved her mate. He loved her. Neither thought the old laws mattered anymore.” Eryndra rubbed ash from her fingertips absently. “Then the visions started changing.”

“Changing how?”

“She saw threats everywhere near him. Futures where he died. Futures where the pack turned against him. Futures where their children suffered because she failed to protect them.”

Liora swallowed. “Were the visions real?”

“Some of them.”

“That sounds cruel.”

“It was worse than cruel.” Eryndra looked at the lantern flame instead of the girl beside her. “The more frightened she became, the more power she used trying to prevent those futures. Eventually she stopped being able to tell prophecy apart from fear.”

“And what happened?”

“She drowned an entire valley trying to stop a war that never came.”

The corridor went silent.

Liora stared at her. “That’s real?”

“Yes.”

“She killed all those people?”

“She thought she was saving them.”

Liora sat very still after that.

Eryndra usually preferred it when people stopped asking questions.

Today the silence only felt heavy.

“So the vow exists because you might become dangerous,” Liora said quietly.

“Yes.”

“That’s…” She stopped. “Gods.”

Eryndra gave a small shrug like it meant less than it did.

Liora studied her face carefully now. “How old were you when you took it?”

“Twelve.”

“Twelve?”

“The training began earlier.”

“That’s too young.”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t even know what you were giving up.”

Eryndra almost answered automatically.

Stopped.

Because that wasn’t entirely true.

At twelve, she’d already understood enough.

Not fully. Not in the way adults understood sacrifice after living long enough to measure its weight properly.

But enough.

Enough to know she would never get the ordinary life the other girls whispered about at night.

Enough to understand that love became dangerous once it touched her power.

Enough to know that one day she might meet someone anyway.

Liora’s voice softened. “Did you ever hate it?”

“The vow?”

“Yes.”

Eryndra looked down at her hands.

Thin ink stains across her fingers. Small scars along her knuckles from years of carving ward lines into stone.

“Yes,” she said quietly.

The honesty surprised both of them.

Liora shifted closer against the wall. “Then why keep it?”

“Because it matters.”

“That sounds like duty talking.”

“It is.”

“That’s not the same thing as wanting it.”

“No,” Eryndra admitted. “It isn’t.”

Another silence.

Then, carefully: “Have you ever…” Liora hesitated. “I mean, has there ever been someone?”

Eryndra laughed once under her breath.

Not because the question was funny.

Because apparently the gods enjoyed cruelty with precision.

“Yes,” she said.

Liora blinked. “There has?”

“There is.”

The girl stared openly now.

Eryndra regretted the answer immediately.

Not because it was false.

Because speaking it aloud made it feel more real than she could safely afford.

Liora lowered her voice instinctively. “Do they know?”

“Yes.”

“And you both just…”

“Ignore it.”

“That sounds miserable.”

“It’s manageable.”

“That wasn’t convincing either.”

Eryndra looked at her flatly. “You’ve spent too much time around Orin.”

“That’s probably true.”

A faint smile touched Eryndra’s mouth despite herself.

Liora watched carefully. “You love them.”

The words landed hard in the quiet corridor.

Eryndra could have denied it.

Should have.

Instead she said, “That’s irrelevant.”

“That’s not a no.”

“No,” Eryndra agreed softly. “It isn’t.”

The lantern hissed as oil shifted inside the glass chamber.

Liora leaned her head back against the wall beside her. “I don’t think I could do it.”

“Do what?”

“Choose duty over…” She gestured vaguely. “That.”

“You say that because you’ve never had to.”

“That’s probably also true.”

Eryndra looked down the empty corridor toward the shrine steps above them.

Somewhere farther up in the mountain, workers shouted over collapsing stone supports. Life continuing. Repairs continuing. Everyone moving because they had no choice but to move.

Liora spoke again after a long pause.

“Do you ever wish you’d chosen differently?”

Eryndra answered too fast. “No.”

The girl said nothing.

That silence felt worse than disagreement.

Eryndra exhaled quietly through her nose. “The vow protects people.”

“I know.”

“It protects the pack.”

“I know.”

“It protects him.”

There.

The wrong word.

Him.

Liora looked at her carefully now, understanding arriving piece by piece.

“Oh,” she said softly.

Eryndra closed her eyes briefly.

Too late to take it back.

Liora’s voice gentled immediately. “You really do love him.”

Eryndra stared at the floor.

The bond stirred warm beneath her ribs as if speaking his name internally had been enough to wake it.

Always there.

Always waiting.

“Yes,” she said finally.

The confession barely sounded like her own voice.

Liora didn’t react dramatically. No shock. No pity.

Only quiet sadness.

“That’s awful,” she whispered.

Eryndra laughed again, softer this time. “A little.”

“And he just accepts this?”

“No.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means acceptance and resignation are different things.”

Liora absorbed that slowly.

“Does anyone else know?”

“Maelis suspects everything. Orin notices too much.” A pause. “Theron and I—”

“The Alpha?”

Eryndra froze once she realized what she had done. It was supposed to be kept secret and here she was blabbing about her bond with Theron.

What was she supposed to do?

Would Liora tell anyone?

Has she put Theron and herself in danger by revealing this secret about them?

What would the elders say? Would she be forced to step down?

“The Alpha is aware of who your mate is?.”

Eryndra turned to look at her sharply.

Liora immediately raised both hands. “Sorry. Sorry. I just meant…”

“No. You’re right.”

The corridor quieted again. The suffocating silence was there once again. Eryndra was relieved to see that Liora completely misunderstood what she said. She assumed the Alpha was aware and not that he was indeed her mate.

Liora nudged one of the broken charm stones with her boot. “I used to think power solved things.”

Eryndra cleared her throat “It mostly complicates them.”

“That’s deeply disappointing.”

“You’ll survive.”

“I'm not so sure.” Liora muttered almost defeated.

Eryndra stood slowly, brushing dust from her skirts. “You should head upstairs before the shrine keepers realize you disappeared again.”

Liora remained seated another second before asking quietly, “Are you happy?”

The question stopped Eryndra completely.

Not because she lacked an answer.

Because she had too many.

Happy when Theron laughs rarely enough that it feels stolen from another life.

Happy during quiet mornings in the archive before the rest of the pack wakes.

Happy when Orin sits beside her talking nonsense until she forgets to carry everything alone for five whole minutes.

Happy in pieces.

Miserable in others.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly.

Liora looked like she wanted to say more.

But she didn’t.

Instead she stood and brushed dirt from her hands. “Thank you for answering.”

“You asked recklessly enough to deserve one.”

“That almost sounded affectionate.”

“Don’t spread rumors.”

Liora grinned faintly. “Your secret’s safe.”

“That statement inspires no confidence.”

“It should inspire at least a little confidence.”

“It really doesn’t.”

The girl laughed under her breath before heading toward the shrine stairs.

Halfway up, she paused.

“For what it’s worth,” she said quietly, “I think choosing people you love is brave too.”

Then she disappeared upstairs before Eryndra could answer.

The corridor fell silent again.

Eryndra remained standing beside the lantern for a long moment.

Then longer.

The bond pressed softly against her ribs.

Alive. Steady. Familiar enough to ache.

Eventually she returned to the archive.

The worktable near the eastern shelves remained exactly where she’d left it earlier. Open ledgers. Half-finished ward diagrams. Three untouched cups of cold tea.

And now, a plate of food.

Eryndra stopped walking.

Bread. Dried meat. Sliced pear.

Still warm.

Theron stood near the doorway fastening his gloves back onto his hands.

“You forgot to eat,” he said simply.

Eryndra looked from the food to him. “How did you even know I was here?”

“You’re always here.”

The answer settled heavily between them.

He adjusted the cuff over one wrist carefully, movements slower than usual because of the healing injuries along his side.

“You should be resting,” she said quietly.

“So should you.”

“That’s becoming repetitive.”

“You keep ignoring the advice.”

“So do you.”

Theron nodded once like conceding the point.

Neither moved.

The archive felt too still around them.

Eryndra looked down at the plate again because it was easier than looking directly at him after the conversation downstairs.

“You didn’t have to bring this.”

“I know.”

That was somehow worse.

No performance. No grand gesture.

Just Theron remembering she forgot meals whenever she buried herself in work.

Just Theron paying attention.

He stepped back toward the doorway.

“The council meeting ran long,” he said. “I may not see you tonight.”

Eryndra hated how the bond reacted to that. A small instinctive pull.

“Fine,” she answered evenly.

Theron’s gaze rested on her for one brief second too long.

Then he left without another word.

The door shut softly behind him.

Silence returned.

Eryndra stood motionless beside the table while the warmth from the food slowly curled upward into the cold archive air.

Then, very carefully, she sat down.

And stared at the plate for a very long time before touching it.

She allowed herself to savor the meal he had brought. She still had no appetite nor desire

to eat, but for what it's worth, she had to, as long as it would take one thing off his plate to worry about.

While she chewed her mind drifted back to her conversation with Liora, she truly didn't expect herself to talk so openly with the girl. There was something almost grounding about her presence and questions that made her open up to her.

Her mind replayed those last words “For what it’s worth,I think choosing people you love is brave too”

Maybe that's true. But it only goes to show just how much of a coward she really was.