Page 42 of The Moonborn's Curse

"...Sorry."

But the word was nothing. Empty.

Seren knew the truth.

This moment - this rejection, this coldness - it could not be undone.

The villagers had seen. The tribe had witnessed.

The damage had already been done.

Chapter 21

Hagan

Hagan sat on the wide wooden railing of the old watchtower at the northern boundary of Vargrheim where it bordered the Starnheim tribe , the wind stirring his hair as he stared into the thick trees surrounding the village. The scent of damp pine filled the air, sharp and grounding, but nothing settled the twisting in his chest. He exhaled slowly, knowing he should have already been at the longhouse, standing where his father expected him to be.

Where she would be.

His future bride.

The words felt foreign, unnatural, like a rope tightening around his throat.

He should go.

Instead, he stayed.

Lia sat beside him, her fingers resting lightly against his wrist, her presence familiar, grounding. He wasn't alone—Dain leaned against the wooden post, arms crossed over his chest, frowning as he watched Hagan with quiet intensity. Veyr stood a few steps away, silent, unreadable, his eyes distant as if he had already played out the outcome of this night in his mind.

"This is stupid. You are only twelve," Dain muttered, kicking a loose stone off the platform. "They can't just force this on you. It's not fair."

Hagan didn't answer.

Because it didn't matter. Fair had nothing to do with it.

His father had made it clear—Seren was chosen for him, bonded to him before she could even walk. It was written in the prophesy, etched into their blood, undeniable. A link forged long before either of them had a say.

But he should have a say.

Shouldn't he?

"If she feels unwelcome enough," Dain continued, tone sharp, "maybe she'll go back where she belongs. To her own tribe."

The words made something in Hagan recoil, but he didn't stop him. Sometimes Dain talked too much. Most of it without a thought in his head.

Lia pressed closer, her voice soft but insistent. "I feel a bond with Hagan," she said, gaze lifting to meet his. "And he feels it too."

Her fingers tightened on his.

Hagan swallowed, heart thudding once, hard.

She wasn't wrong. His fingers tightened back.

He did feel something with her—familiarity, warmth, history. A connection built on shared years, whispered conversations under moonlight, stolen glances when no one was watching.

Seren had none of that.

"She doesn't even have wolf blood," Lia murmured, voice edged with quiet triumph. "She doesn't belong here."

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