Third Person’s POV
The entire crowd froze. Especially Jocelyn.
3.76%
+8 Pearls
Freya’s voice wasn’t only heard by those guarding the Stormveil Primal Hall–it carried beyond, reaching every ear in the bustling heart of Ashbourne.
The Hall stood in the city’s central za, its ckstone pirs carved with the runes of Stormveil’s bloodline. The earlier sh had already drawn attention, but Freya’s defiant cry stopped passersby in their tracks. Humans and wolves alike paused, watching as the lone woman stood firm before the sealed gates, clutching the wooden urn draped in a blood–red battle g.
Jocelyn’sposure cracked, her voice snapping like a whip.
“Drag her away from the gate! Don’t let her shout another word. Do you want the Elders–or the Patriarch himself–disturbed by this circus?<b>” </b>
“Yes, Alpha–heir!” the guards scrambled to obey, their boots crunching against the stone as they surged toward Freya.
At that same moment, Ss emerged from the towering headquarters of Stormveil’s family industries alongside high–ranking Thorne elders. Adel Thorne, Lennon Thorne and the other branch leaders walked at his side, their tone deferential.
“Alpha Ss, had we known you’d be traveling to Ashbourne, we would have prepared a proper wee,” Adel Thorne offered smoothly. Stormveil had once dominated the city, but its glory had waned. Only Jocelyn’s ties to Ss kept the pack’s prestige afloat.
The other branch elder chimed in, eager to please. “Perhaps tonight we host a cleansing feast in your honor. We could invite Jocelyn as well–you and she grew up like bonded cubs, did you not?”
They meant to remind him of Jocelyn’s “destined bond.” But Ss’s attention had already drifted. His voice cut through their chatter, calm but sharp.
“The Stormveil Primal Hall lies nearby, does it not? I think I’ll take a look.”
The Thornes stiffened. “The… Primal Hall? You wish to go there?”
“Why?” His tone cooled, steel beneath the velvet. “Am I not wee?”
“Of course, you are! It would be our honor,” Lennon said hastily. “The Patriarch himself is in the Hall today. He would be pleased to meet you.”
They did not understand his sudden interest, but none dared deny him.
The group turned toward the Hall, their stride purposeful. But before they even reached the obsidian gates, the scene revealed itself–chaos, guards strewn across the gstones, and a lone figure standing tall amidst the carnage.
Ss halted. His pulse thundered.
There she was.
76%
+8 Pearls
Freya. Spine unyielding, eyes cold as tempered steel, both hands cradling the urn draped in the crimson g of her father. Around her, bodies groaned, some crawling, others still on the ground from where her wolf–blooded strength had thrown them aside.
It was the airport all over again–her defiance against overwhelming force.
Jocelyn’s shrill voice cut through the air, bitter and frantic.
“Freya! The Primal Hall is no ce for your insolence! I’ve already summoned the <i>City </i>Guard–if you don’t leave now, you’ll be dragged out in chains!”
“I am not here to fight,” Freya’s voice rang like steel against stone. “I am here to honor my blood. To ce the ashes of my parents within the Hall!”
Jocelyn’s father, Lennon flustered and sweating, rushed to her side. “What madness is this? Do you think the Hall is open to every stray who ims the Stormveil name?”
Freya’s gaze cut to him like a de. “Arthur Thorne’s blood runs in my veins. My mother Myra died bearing the same mark. Their spirits deserve the Hall. Their urn will rest here.”
Lennon scoffed, his face pale despite his bluster. “The Fifth Branch has been dead for years! Don’t insult us with lies.”
“Then check the Stormveil Codex,” Freya snapped back, her voice unwavering. “The blood of the Fifth Branch still flows, and I will not be denied.”
Ss‘ fists clenched at his sides as he watched her–every word, every act of defiance stirring something primal in his chest.
Send Gifts
40