Page 32 of The Moonborn's Curse

Draken's frown deepened. "I would rather they understand what is expected of them."

The pack had already taken notice. Whispers followed Airlia like a shadow. Some were curious, some dismissive, and others—like the more traditional elders—were wary.

"Her father was human," one tribe member had remarked recently, watching the girl with sharp, assessing eyes. "It happens, but it is uncommon. Wolves do not forget what we are, and we do not always welcome what is different."

Airlia had not reacted. That, more than anything, unsettled them. A child should care what the pack thought, should yearn for acceptance. But Airlia... she simply continued on, unbothered, as though she had long since decided their opinions did not matter.

"She does not behave like a pup seeking approval," Astrid murmured. "That is ...unnatural"

Draken's jaw tightened. That could be dangerous.

The Vargrheim tribe was a unit, every member interacting continuously. Isolation was equivalent to a death sentence to wolves.

There were bigger concerns than the growing bond between Airlia and Hagan. The borders had become restless, the neighbouring pack stirring like an unsettled beast. Skirmishes had started again—small tests of strength, of will. Messages sent through blood and bruises rather than words.

The tribe could not afford distractions.

And so, Draken made his decision.

Hagan entered the longhouse with a furrowed brow, uneasy at the rare summons. His father sat at the long wooden table, firelight casting shadows across his face. Astrid sat nearby, watching silently.

Draken studied Hagan for a long moment before speaking. His son had grown fast, tall, and strong—his frame filling out with the promise of a warrior. He was no longer a child, yet at that moment, Draken knew what he was about to say would shake him like one.

"There is something you must know."

Hagan frowned. "What is it, dad?"

Draken leaned forward, resting his forearms on the heavy wooden table. "About three years ago, I travelled to the eastern province. It was my third trip to the area. The oracle had sent me on a quest. I met with a young girl."

Hagan felt his shoulders stiffen with tension. "What was the quest?"

Draken exhaled. "I had been searching for the Moon-Eyed female."

Hagan's frown deepened. The words were familiar. He knew the prophecy—every pup in the tribe had heard it whispered, spoken of in stories meant to shape their future. It always seemed like a story to him. Blood mates and such.

The Moon-Eyed one. The mate of the Alpha's heir. The girl who would stand beside him and secure the strength of the pack.

Draken's eyes flickered with something unreadable. "I found her."

Hagan's breath caught in his throat.

"After much searching," Draken continued, "she was found in the eastern province. She was just a child then. As part of the agreement, five of our wolves stayed behind, ensuring our bond with her people. And now, she is to come here. This year."

The words rang in Hagan's ears, each syllable hitting like a blow.

His jaw clenched. "You kept this from me."

Draken's expression didn't shift. "It was not the right time."

Hagan pushed to his feet, his chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor. His hands were fists at his sides. "I knew about the prophecy. I've spent my whole life being told it would happen one day. But you—" He sucked in a breath, furious. "You didn't think I should know when you found her?"

Draken's gaze remained steady. "Would it have changed anything?"

"Yes!" Hagan snapped. "It's my life! I should have known!"

Draken let out a slow breath as if preparing himself. "You were still young. We just wanted you to be unburdened as long as possible. But things have changed now."

Hagan's brows furrowed, but he didn't have to think long to understand what his father meant.

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