Page 120 of A Sunwoven Ascent

Kaldrek stared down at the items in his hands as they stepped back into the daylight. A pretend lord, and now a male witch brewing potions.

What the hell had his life become?

***

The rain was relentless.

It fell in a steady, ceaseless mist, soaking the training field until the ground beneath their feet turned slick with mud. Cold clung to everything—the air, their skin, each breath—yet the clearing remained alive with movement. Blows landed, boots slid, bodies collided and recovered.

Alaric welcomed it: the discomfort, the sting in his lungs, the weight of wet clothes against his skin. It gave him something to focus on.

Anything but his thoughts.

A few days had passed since dinner at Duskwood Manor, but the tension from that evening had not eased. If anything, it had sharpened. The ball was only days away, and while the others busied themselves with preparations, Alaric’s mind kept returning to his secret visit with Charise Hallowell.

She had spoken of the veil, of how little time they might have before its protection thinned beyond usefulness. Weeks, perhaps. Yet the Noskari could force their way through sooner if they truly tried. It was a conversation the group needed to have. They needed a plan. But what more could they do now except remain hidden behind a fading glamour, train, and build what strength they could?

When Alaric had asked Kaldrek for his thoughts, the alpha had said they should wait until after the ball before taking Ironwolf beyond the veil to search for nearby threats. He had also asked Alaric to gather the covens. Still, Alaric could not shake the feeling that Kaldrek had another plan, one he was not yet willing to share.

Before speaking with Charise, Alaric had not fully understood the veil. Now that he did, he could feel its weakness everywhere. She had listened carefully as he told her what they had encountered beyond the southern territories—the corruption, the Noskari, the wrongness seeping through the land. He had warned her plainly: gather the covens and prepare. A fight was coming.

Charise had not argued. Nor had she dismissed him. Instead, she told him she had already spoken with Evelyne and Kaldrek the day before. She knew of Vaelora’s son, the alpha of Ironwolf. Fear had flickered in her eyes when she said it, though it softened when Alaric assured her Kaldrek was not his mother; he was good. That seemed to settle her.

When the conversation turned to the truth he still had not fully accepted, Charise had lit up with excitement and something close to awe. She seemed to understand immediately when he spoke of the land guiding him, of the strange vibration of power he had felt more than once, and of his mother’s secret.

“You are a seer,” she had whispered.

The word had meant little to him before. Now, it felt like a burden. Charise had spoken of seers with near reverence, explaining that they were rare, and that their magic could not be sensed like other gifts because it did not come from the same source. It came from the land itself.

And that was precisely the problem. Alaric had no idea what to do with it. He had spent the past few days trying to make sense of what he had felt, listening more closely, watching the ground beneath his feet, and remembering the whispers that had filled his mind when the darkness had taken hold of him. The things it had said. The things it had wanted. There had been meaning in it. He knew there had.

He simply could not unravel it yet.

If he was meant to protect these lands, if that was truly what he had been chosen for, then how in the hell was he supposed to do it?

A sharp impact knocked him back into the present. Alaric stumbled slightly, boots sliding in the mud before he regained his footing. Across from him, Nathan reset his stance, waiting.

They circled, but Alaric’s gaze drifted briefly across the clearing and beyond Nathan.

Evelyne stood at the far end, working through takedown maneuvers with Kaura, the fierce female from the Oathroot pack. The two moved fluidly together, and Alaric couldn’t help but notice how well they all adjusted around Evelyne. Especially Zade. The male did not overstep in a romantically interested way—he respected the law of wolves—but he always watched her, watched over her. And today was no different. Zade stood nearby, observing closely, his focus fixed entirely on Evelyne as she shifted her stance and pinned Kaura down within seconds. Wren lingered just behind him and seemed to be mirroring the same type of attention toward her.

Whether it was admiration or a need to protect her, Alaric didn’t know. But he noticed and it made him happy.

“Focus,” Nathan said, lunging forward again.

Alaric reacted just in time, catching the movement and redirecting it, but allowed his mind to slip aside to Heidara now. The female was so unbelievably magnetic, his gaze somehow always found her. It was simply captivating to watch how well she adapted to every challenge thrown her way. She handled it all, and Alaric could only stare, especially now. The curve of her movement. The strength in her arms. The way she held herself—

Nathan took the opportunity and Alaric hit the ground hard. Mud splashed up along his side as the impact knocked the breath from his lungs, the world narrowing for just a second—

And in that second, it came back.

The memory of being pinned to the ground, of the darkness threading through his mind. Of his palms touching the grass and a vibration flooding through him. Of the darkness coiling at the foreign sensation.

And he remembered it all now. All the whispers it repeated to itself.

Every. Single. Word.

Alaric sucked in a breath and forced himself back to the present as he pushed up from the ground, mud clinging to his hands and clothes.