Kael's POV.I felt her before I saw the sanctuary. Not the way it used to be, sharp and demanding. It wasn’t pulling at my ribs like a fishhook. This was quieter. A hum beneath my skin that indicated she's close without making it hurt.The path through the trees opened up. And there she was by the water trough. Her hands were busy, hair tied back. She straightened before I called her out and was wiping her palms on her tunic.

Lyra spotted me from the training field. Her sword didn't falter mid-swing. She just looked, assessed, then continued her form.

Mira met me at the gate. She opened it. "You're early."

"Council wrapped fast. That's new." I eyed the pergola by the main building.

"Finished last week. The kids built it."

"Good work."

"They're proud of it." She closed the gate behind me, the latch clicking softly. "You brought something."

I shifted the bag on my shoulder. "Herbs from the northern district. The healer said you were running low on silverleaf."

"I was." She didn't reach for the bag. "Thank you."

We stood there for a moment, the kind of silence that used to make me panic. Now it has just settled. "Walk with me?" she asked.

"Always."

We moved along the outer path, past the garden beds where a few younger wolves were pulling weeds. One of them waved. I nodded back. "Blackridge?" Mira asked.

"Stable. The new Alpha's handling disputes better than I did." I kept my tone light, but it was true. "Less ego, more listening."

"That's not what I heard. I heard you've been advising him."

"Occasionally."

"More than occasionally."

I glanced at her. "You keeping tabs on me?"

"People talk." Her mouth curved slightly. "They say you refused a seat on the reformed council."

"I did."

"Why?"

I watched a bird lift from a nearby branch, wings cutting through the still air. "Because I spent too many years thinking power would fix things. It didn't. Walking away did."

She didn't argue. Didn't praise either. Just absorbed it.

We reached the cedar tree. It had been charred black during the attack, half its branches skeletal. Now green shoots climbed the trunk, new growth spiraling upward.

Mira stopped beneath it, tilting her head back. "It's stubborn."

"Like someone I know."

"Funny."

"I wasn't joking."

She looked at me then, something unreadable flickering across her face. "Seraphine left Blackridge."

"Two weeks ago."

"Where'd she go?"

"South. Past the neutral zones." I leaned against the tree, careful not to disturb the new bark. "She won't be back."

"You're sure?"

"I made it clear what would happen if she tried."

Mira's expression didn't shift, but I saw the tension leave her shoulders. She'd never asked me to handle Seraphine. Didn't need to.

"How's Lyra?" I asked.

Her face softened immediately. "Strong. Focused. She's teaching the older kids advanced drills."

"I noticed her form's cleaner."

"She practices every morning before anyone else wakes up."

"Sounds familiar."

"She's not me, Kael."

"I know." I met her eyes. "She's better."

Mira exhaled, something between a laugh and a sigh. "She asks about you sometimes."

That caught me. "What does she ask?"

"If you're doing okay. If you're eating enough." She smiled faintly. "If you're still brooding."

"I don't brood."

"You absolutely brood."

"What do you tell her?"

"That you're managing. That you're healing." Mira paused. "That you come here because you want to, not because you have to."

The bond flickered between us, warm and steady. I didn't reach for her. Didn't need to.

"I do want to," I said quietly.

"I know."

We started walking again, this time at a slower pace. The sanctuary grounds stretched out ahead, open and alive with movement. A far cry from the rigid structures of Blackridge.

"You ever think about leaving?" I asked. "Going somewhere new?"

"Sometimes. But this place needs me." She glanced toward the main building, where a cluster of kids was laughing over something. "And I need it."

"It suits you."

"Better than Luna ever did."

I wanted to argue, to say she'd been a good Luna, that Blackridge hadn't deserved her. But she was right. This place fit her in a way titles never had.

"Do you miss it?" she asked. "Leading?"

"No."

"Not even a little?"

"Not even a little." I shifted the bag to my other shoulder. "I miss the purpose sometimes. But not the weight."

"You found purpose here."

"I found peace here." She stopped walking, turning to face me fully. The bond hummed louder, insistent but not painful. Just there. Always there. "You still feel it," she said. Not a question.

"Every time."

"Me too."

Neither of us moved. The space between us held everything we'd been and everything we'd never be. "I don't come here to reclaim anything," I said. "I know." Her voice was steady. "That's why I let you stay."

Footsteps approached from behind. Lyra appeared with two water skins, offering one to each of us without a word. She studied us both, her gaze sharper than most would notice.

"You staying for dinner?" she asked me.

"I wasn't planning on it."

"You should." She handed Mira her water. "We're making stew. Actual good stew, not the garbage you probably eat in Blackridge."

"I eat fine."

"You eat as if someone had forgotten meals exist." Mira laughed, the sound bright and unexpected. "She's not wrong," Lyra smirked and headed back toward the training field, leaving us alone again. "She's warming up to you," Mira said.

"Or she pities me."

"Maybe both."

I stayed for dinner. The stew was good, better than anything I'd had in weeks. Lyra sat across from me, asking about defensive formations, and I answered without trying to teach. Just shared what I knew.

Mira watched us from the end of the table, something soft in her expression. When the sun started sinking, I stood to leave. Mira walked me to the gate, her steps unhurried. "I won't be back for a few weeks," I said. "There's a summit in the eastern territories."

"Take care of yourself."

"You too."

I hesitated; the words I wanted to say tangling in my throat. But they didn't need to be said. She already knew. "You've built something good here," I said instead.

"So have you." She held my gaze. "In yourself." I turned and walked back down the path, forcing myself not to look back. I didn't need to. She'd still be there when I returned.

She always was.