Dawn stretched between the trees as Helena and Leofrik arrived at the sacred clearing—the same place where, years ago, she had spoken vows born not of love, but of duty.
The pact stone was still there, massive and solid, its surface still marked by moss veins untouched by time. Under the pale light of a mild sun, it looked older, more alive. The very place where Mason had taken her hand, where she had said “yes” while her wolf howled silently from some invisible prison.
Helena stopped a few steps from the stone. The air was dense, almost reverent. She could still hear the echo of ritual chants, the murmur of the attendees, the hollow oaths. Everything came back with crushing force.
Leofrik remained at her side in silence. He didn’t interrupt the moment—he simply stood with her, his pres
