<h4>Chapter 622: Meeting The Witches (I)</h4>


    <strong>River:</strong>


    The gravel crunched beneath my boots as I stepped out of the car.


    Jasper was already there, as always - efficient, silent, opening the door before I had even reached for the handle. My beta had long mastered the art of anticipating my movements without a word.


    The air here was different.


    Not just cold, but charged. Though mid November had sharpened its edge.


    I lifted my gaze to therge wooden signboard standing crookedly beside the narrow dirt road.


    <strong>The North Witch’s Burrow</strong> was carved into the wood in looping script, the letters filled with faded silver resin that shimmered faintly even in the dull afternoon light. Intricate symbols were etched along the border - protective runes woven so subtly into the design that a normal person would dismiss them as decoration.


    I did not.


    A woman stood beside the sign.


    She wasn’t dressed like the storybook witches humans liked to romanticize. No pointed hat. No exaggerated cloak. But the long charcoal skirt brushing her boots, theyered shawl wrapped asymmetrically over one shoulder, the rings glinting on nearly every finger... each set with a different stone... spoke clearly enough.


    Her dark hair was braided loosely down her back, thin silver threads woven through the strands.


    She’s a witch.


    She bowed her head respectfully as I approached.


    "Rogue Alpha," she greeted softly.


    Her tone held deference. There was no warmth in it.


    Respect did not mean wee.


    "Thank you for receiving us," I replied evenly.


    Her eyes flickered briefly to Jasper before she turned without another word and began walking down the narrow dirt path beneath the vine-covered archway.


    We followed.


    The moment I passed beneath the arch, I felt it - a whisper of magic brushing across my skin like cold mist.


    A ward.


    I kept my posture rxed, my power contained but unmistakable. The ward recognized strength. It slid over me, probing... then receded.


    We walked for several minutes in silence. The trees grew denser, their branches curling inward as though shielding thend beyond from prying eyes. ss wind chimes hung from the limbs, but no wind stirred them. Small bundles of dried herbs dangled from twine lines between trunks.


    Protection.


    Cleansing.


    Warnings.


    The dirt path opened suddenly into a wide courtyard.


    And there it was.


    The house stood two stories tall, built of dark stone and timber, its roof sloping steeply under thick ivy that had imed nearly half its structure. Tall, narrow windows reflected the gray sky like watchful eyes. Smoke curledzily from a crooked chimney, carrying with it the faint scent of something bitter and herbal.


    It wasn’t unpleasant. Just... potent.


    The woman did not lead us inside. Instead, she guided us around the house toward the back.


    The courtyard gave way to a wide backyard clearing where a pavilion draped in ivy and climbing roses stood over a circr stone firepit.


    And a group of witches sat around the fire. There were seven of them - all quiet, all watching.


    The mes in the firepit burned an unnatural shade... tinged faintly blue at the core.


    Conversations ceased entirely when we stepped into view.


    No one stood.


    But each inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment. It was power recognizing power.


    And at the center of them sat Elder Morwen Vale.


    If one didn’t know better, they would assume she was perhaps in her early fifties. Strong cheekbones. ck hair pulled into a neat knot. Sharp gray eyes that missed nothing.


    But she had passed her hundredth winter decades ago.


    She rose gracefully as I approached.


    "Alpha Thorne," she greeted, her voice smooth as aged parchment. "It has been some time."


    "It has," I agreed.


    Thest time we saw each other was back when she and a group of her friends helped Kieran set up the protective ward around Silver Moon.


    She gestured to an empty wooden chair across the fire. Jasper remained standing slightly behind my right shoulder.


    "Let us not waste time," Morwen said.


    Direct.


    As always.


    I inclined my head slightly.


    "There have been incidents happening around Silver Moon for a while," I began. "Not physical deaths exactly. Not in the way most understand."


    The witches did not move.


    "It’s called Soul Death," I rified, and then told them in detail about the cases and the Soul Death in itself.


    It was very subtle - their reaction.


    Barely perceptible.


    One witch’s fingers tightened around the ceramic cup in her hand. Another’s spine straightened half an inch. A third blinked too slowly.


    They schooled their reactions quickly.


    But not quickly enough.


    I continued evenly.


    "And beneath the West Tower of Silver Moon Academy, we discovered a sealed chamber. We believe it’s the ce where the entity behind these soul death cases was kept captured."


    I let my gaze drift slowly across the circle.


    "And that chamber was found marked with spellwork."


    The blue me flickered slightly higher.


    No one spoke.


    I leaned back slightly in the wooden chair.


    "The runes were old. Layered. Complex. Not the work of amateurs."


    Morwen’s expression remainedposed. "You believe witches are responsible."


    "I believe witches were involved," I corrected calmly. "At some point."


    Silence stretched between us, heavy but not hostile.


    Finally, Morwen folded her hands in herp.


    "Soul deaths are not a new concept," she said carefully. "There were whispers of such cases four centuries ago."


    A murmur rippled faintly among the others.


    "I read of them in old records," she continued. "But even then, details were scarce."


    "And the West Tower?" I asked.


    Her gaze held mine steadily.


    "The academy is just seven years old," she said. "Who can say what urred beneath its stones centuries ago?"


    The other witches began shaking their heads subtly.


    "We know nothing of this chamber," one added softly.


    "Nor of recent soul deaths," said another.


    They all were too quick, too unified.


    Jasper shifted almost imperceptibly behind me.


    I knew better than to use them outright.


    Witches were not wolves.


    They did not respond well to confrontation.


    Instead, I inclined my head thoughtfully.


    "Then perhaps you would consider visiting the academy," I suggested. "Examining the chamber yourselves."


    That caused visible difort. I could tell it wasn’t fear, but reluctance.


    Morwen’s lips thinned slightly.


    "We withdrew from such affairs long ago," she said. "We do not involve ourselves in the politics of wolves."


    "This is not politics," I replied evenly. "It is a threat."


    "To whom?" one younger witch asked quietly.


    "To anyone with a soul," I answered.


    That silenced her.


    Morwen sighed softly. "You ask us to step back into a world we chose to leave."


    "I ask you to prevent history from repeating itself," I said.


    She studied me for a long moment.


    Before I could press further, a voice cut sharply through the air.


    "Or perhaps," a young witch on the far side of the fire said, her tone edged with open irritation, "you are simply looking for someone to me."


    Jasper stiffened.


    I did not.


    The young witch leaned forward slightly, her brown curls falling over one shoulder.


    "You wolves build towers over secrets you never fully understand," she continued. "And when something stirs beneath them, you run to us."


    Her words were not loud.


    But they were pointed.


    Morwen’s gaze sharpened. "Tamsin."


    But I raised a hand slightly.


    "It is fair," I said calmly.


    Tamsin’s eyes flickered with surprise.


    "I am not here to assign me," I continued. "If witches are uninvolved, then your knowledge could still prove invaluable."


    She scoffed softly.


    "Knowledge always has a cost."


    Before I could respond...


    My phone vibrated in my coat pocket.


    The sound felt unnaturally loud in the charged stillness.


    Every witch’s gaze dropped briefly to the source as I withdrew it slowly.


    Evaline.


    My chest tightened instinctively.


    I met Morwen’s gaze.


    "Excuse me," I said evenly.


    And answered the call.