The Alpha's Secret Mate

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You don't always look through fire to see truth. Sometimes, fire looks through you.

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The path ahead glowed faintly with fading symbols, ember-colored and shifting beneath ash. Though Aryn couldn't read the language, her mark could. It pulsed gently every few steps, like it was scanning the ground as they walked.

Garrick trailed behind her — not guarding, not leading — just watching. She felt his eyes on her back, measuring her silence like he expected her to crack open any second.

But she didn't.

Not now.

Not when the mark was so alive beneath her skin she could almost hear it breathing.

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They didn't speak again until the trees closed tighter. The fire-etched path narrowed, winding between moss-choked roots and trunks that looked half-burnt, half-grown anew. The air thickened, no longer crisp like northern forests — but damp and hot, laced with something metallic and unnatural.

Like blood.

Like memory.

Aryn paused at a clearing — if it could even be called that. A circle of blackened trees formed a ring, and in the center, where the fire-marked trail paused briefly, stood a massive stone. Jagged. Covered in scorch scars. The moss around it curled inward, shriveled as if burned in a precise spiral.

And all around it: ashes.

Not from a recent fire.

Old ones.

Cold ones.

But somehow, still… watching.

---

Garrick approached slowly, crouching beside the stone.

"Not natural," he said. "Whatever scorched this didn't come from a torch or a flameweaver. Look—" He brushed away the loose soot, revealing what lay beneath.

"Burn marks in a pattern. Like… a blast radiating outward."

Aryn's gaze shifted to the trees surrounding the clearing. All of them bore the same radial scarring — as if something had detonated from the stone outward.

She took a cautious step forward.

Her foot touched the center of the spiral.

And the air changed.

---

Suddenly, the heat rose — not just in the clearing, but from within her.

The mark on her shoulder flared.

Aryn gasped, staggering. Her vision blurred for a second — then cleared.

And in that blink of change…

The ash lifted.

Not physically. Not in wind or movement.

But through sight.

She could see through it.

Not the way eyes normally saw. It was like… fire filled her gaze, turning the world translucent. The ashes shimmered — no longer hiding the past but revealing it.

And through that flickering lens of flame, Aryn saw:

A girl.

It wasn't just a girl. It was... herself.

But younger. Kneeling at the same stone. Reaching forward. Crying.

A figure stood behind her — cloaked in black bone, watching silently.

Garrick's voice pulled her back.

"Aryn!"

She blinked hard.

The vision vanished.

So did the heat.

She was still standing there. No flame. No ghost. No girl.

Just the echo of it.

Her breath came fast. Her hands were shaking.

"I saw…" Her voice cracked. "Something. I don't think it was a memory. It was like I— I saw through the ash."

Garrick straightened slowly.

"That's not a normal gift," he said carefully. "Even among the old bloodlines."

"You've seen this before?" she asked, trembling.

"I've heard of it," he said. "But only in stories. They called it heat-sight. Flame-seers. Marked ones who could glimpse echoes through fire. See the past. Sometimes the future. Never both."

Her heart slammed once.

"Why now?"

"Because the forest wants you to see," he said. "And that should terrify you."

---

They moved again, but the forest was no longer just wood and bark and trail. It breathed. The trees leaned. The shadows followed at angles that didn't match the light.

They passed a hollowed trunk, and this time Garrick paused.

He looked into it — then frowned, reaching inside.

He pulled out a feather.

Long. White. Not from any bird native to this part of the forest. It shimmered faintly in the firelight.

Aryn tensed. "Moonborn?"

"Not fullblood," Garrick muttered. "Scout-bred. Hollow-trained."

"Then they're watching us."

"They've been watching," he replied darkly. "But if they're leaving traces this close…"

He didn't finish the sentence.

---

That night, they made camp in silence.

The fire was low and narrow — barely more than a pulse in the dark. Aryn sat close to it, staring through the flickering light.

She didn't expect another vision.

But it came anyway.

Not of the girl.

Not of Kael.

But of a mask. Bone-white. Suspended in flame. And eyes behind it — glowing faintly red.

Not attacking.

Just…

Studying.

Then:

Come.

---

She jolted upright, gasping.

Garrick was beside her instantly, blade halfway drawn.

"What happened?"

"It was another vision..."

"What did you see this time?"

She swallowed, unsure how to explain it.

"I think I saw… the one who marked me. Or someone close to them."

He stared at her, unreadable.

And then—across the clearing—something moved.

No sound. No footsteps.

Just pale eyes.

Low to the ground. Watching.

Then gone.

Aryn didn't breathe.

Garrick didn't move.

Neither of them said a word.

Because the forest had stopped testing them.

Now, it was choosing them.

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