The Alpha's Secret Mate

Aryn stumbled back, heart hammering against her ribs like it wanted out.

Garrick's blade was already in his hand, gleaming with urgency. "What the hell did you just touch?"

She clutched her shoulder, her palm pressed to the burning mark that flared beneath her tunic. It wasn't just warm — it was alive. A pulse of fire curled from it, not outward, but inward, rooting itself deep into her skin. Her breath caught.

"I didn't do anything," she whispered, eyes wide. "It's… responding."

Garrick didn't lower his blade. His eyes darted around them, scanning the trees like he expected something—someone—to leap out from the shadows. "We need to go. Now!"

But Aryn didn't move.

Her heartbeat slowed. The fire in her shoulder didn't hurt anymore — it beckoned. It wasn't threatening. It was familiar, like a rhythm she'd heard before in a dream.

"No," she said, her voice firm.

Garrick turned, surprised.

She straightened, the air crackling faintly around her. "This is where I'm meant to be. The dreams… they brought me here. The forest—it's showing me the way."

As if summoned by her words, the ground ahead shifted. Leaves stirred in a breeze that hadn't existed moments ago. A stretch of scorched earth unfolded before them — blackened foliage, ferns curled into ash, and a ribbon of fire-etched symbols burning faintly into the dirt.

A path. Twisting, ancient. Marked by fire.

And only she could see it.

"I think it's guiding me to the Warden," she murmured.

Garrick's eyes narrowed, following the twisting trail that seemed to appear from nowhere. His jaw clenched. "Then we follow it. But we move carefully. Something powerful laid this down—and power like that always takes something in return."

Aryn nodded.

And for the first time since the bond had awakened, since the mark seared itself into her skin, she stepped forward.

Not because she was being chased.

Not because Kael had saved her.

But because something inside her had finally stopped asking for answers…

And started walking toward them.

---

The trail still smoked.

Ash lifted from the ground like tiny ghosts, curling from the strange, burned symbols that had risen in the glade. They weren't random scorch marks. They were intentional — too deliberate to be natural, and far too ancient to belong to anything human.

Aryn stood just at the edge, her boots inches from the first sigil. Her shoulder still tingled where the mark had responded, pulsing faintly like a second heartbeat.

Behind her, Garrick was quiet. Too quiet.

He hadn't said a word since she moved toward the trail. He hadn't protested. But he hadn't agreed either.

"Are you sure this is a path?" he asked finally, voice low, like he didn't want to disturb the air around them. "It could be a trap. Left by whatever marked you."

"I'm not sure of anything," she replied. Her voice trembled just slightly, but not from fear. "But standing here won't help me understand this mark. Or the dreams. Or… him."

She didn't say Kael's name aloud. But the weight of it still hung in the silence.

Garrick's jaw worked. He glanced down the smoking trail, then back at her.

After a moment, he exhaled sharply. "Then we walk it. But we stay alert. This forest… it doesn't feel like it did yesterday."

No. It didn't.

The trees felt taller now. Hungrier. Every breeze had a bite to it. Even the birds had gone silent — like the whole forest had paused to listen.

They stepped onto the path.

The fire-scorched markings wound across the ground like the spine of something sleeping. The scent of ash was thick in the air, mingling with the damp earth and the faint, metallic tang of old magic.

And after only a few paces, Aryn turned.

The glade was gone.

Not hidden. Not distant. Just… gone.

In its place were trees she didn't recognize. Trunks twisted together where there had been open space before. Roots braided through where her footprints should have been.

"Where…?" Her breath hitched.

Garrick turned too, frowning. "The forest closed the path behind us."

Aryn stared. "Can it do that?"

"I don't think this is just the forest anymore," he said tightly.

The air thickened around them. The trail felt heavier now — not just a direction, but a decision.

Then—a sound. Low. Deliberate. Not leaves. Not wind.

A presence.

Something was watching.

Garrick reached for his blade again.

"No," Aryn said quickly, her hand rising.

He hesitated.

"If this path came from the mark," she said, "then maybe it only stays open if I follow it willingly. I don't think I'm meant to fight it."

"And if it's a lure?" he asked. "If it leads you straight into a Hollow beast's den?"

Her lips parted. "Then I'll know."

She meant it. There was fear inside her — yes. But it wasn't choking her anymore. It stood beside something stronger now: resolve.

Garrick stared at her for a long beat, then gave a small nod. "Lead the way, Flameborn."

The name hit her like a jolt.

Flameborn.

He hadn't said it before. Not even once.

And yet… it felt like it belonged to her.

She took another step.

---

And just like that — the trees shifted.

The branches overhead tangled tighter. The sky vanished behind a ceiling of leaves. The air grew colder, wrapped in something old. Time stretched thin.

The trail continued ahead, curving slightly left — like smoke curling into shadow.

The bond pulsed in her chest. Not painful. Just… urging.

And then—just before the forest swallowed them whole—Aryn heard something.

On the wind. Carried through the hush.

Not her name.

Kael's.

Then silence.

And then—

Nothing.

Because they were gone.

Swallowed by the path.

By the forest.

By whatever lay waiting beyond the next curve.