Chapter 165

The morning was thick with late spring heat, the season turning toward summer, when Veylan told me about his brother.

We were preparing for the mate selection ceremony; an event held every few months where those seeking family could find their matches. I sat on the stone bench outside our home, mending a ripped shirt, while my mates moved around me readying themselves for the day. Veylan was sharpening his claws, his silver eyes distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

"Eryx doesn’t want to go," Veylan said quietly, not looking up from his task. "To the ceremony. He says he doesn’t need a mate."

I set the mending aside, watching his face, the tension in his shoulders. "Have you spoken to him?"

"Last night." Veylan’s jaw tightened. "He says he’s content. That he doesn’t need anyone else. That he’s happy with... with what he has."

"With you," I said softly.

Veylan nodded, his expression conflicted. "I just want him to be happy. Truly happy. Not this... this pretending." He stopped, shaking his head. "I told him it doesn’t hurt to see. To look. He might find someone who could love him, who could build a life with him. But he just smiled. That smile he has. The one that doesn’t reach his eyes."

We found Eryx at the edge of the village, sitting on a rock, staring out at the horizon. He turned when we approached, and I saw it immediately. The smile. Perfect, polite, and utterly hollow.

"I won’t choose," he said before we could speak. "I’m not interested in a mate. I’m content just being with Veylan. With the family here." He looked at his brother, then at me, his gaze lingering a fraction too long before he looked away. "I have everything I need."

But his eyes. His eyes told a different story. They were dark, haunted, filled with a secret he wouldn’t name, a longing he had learned to bury so deep no one would ever find it. He had loved once, I thought. Or lost someone. Or perhaps both. Whatever it was, he carried it in silence, refusing to let anyone see the truth of his heart.

"Come anyway," I said gently. "Watch. Support the others. You don’t have to choose Eryx. But you don’t have to hide either."

He looked at me for a long moment, something flickering in those dark depths, something I couldn’t read. Then he nodded, the hollow smile fading into something more real, more painful. "Alright. I’ll watch."

The ceremony was held in the central square, the same place where every special occasion is held.

Wren was there, her bear cub Eira in her arms, her eyes scanning the crowd of males with the sharp assessment of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. She moved with purpose, crossing the square to where a tall, quiet man stood apart from the others. He had kind eyes and gentle hands, and antlers that marked him as a stag shifter, graceful and strong. When Wren stopped before him, he looked surprised, then honored, then joyful.

"I choose you," Wren said, her voice clear and strong. "For my second mate. For my family. For my future."

The man, whose name I later learned was Aldric, knelt before her, his hand trembling as he accepted her choice. His antlers caught the sunlight, beautiful and proud. The crowd cheered, and Eira huffed her approval, and Wren smiled with the satisfaction of a woman building the life she wanted.

Fiarah was next, her three wolf cubs tumbling at her feet, her mate Lyle watching with pride and love. She moved through the crowd, her eyes seeking, until she found a male with golden hair and a warm laugh, his ears pointed and his tail telling of his fox nature. He was younger than Lyle, softer, but his eyes held intelligence and kindness, and his russet fur gleamed in the sun.

"I choose you," Fiarah said, her voice tired but hopeful. "To help me raise my sons. To build our family. To be my second mate."

The male, whose name was Finn, looked overwhelmed, then delighted, then deeply moved. He knelt, his tail wagging, he accepted, and the crowd cheered again.

Then it was my turn.

Not to choose. I had chosen. Six times. My hands were full, my heart was full, my life was complete. But the ceremony allowed for declined invitations, for polite refusals, for women who were content with what they had.

Three males approached me. A lion with a proud mane and hopeful eyes. A wolf with a sweet smile and nervous hands. A bear with broad shoulders and a gentle voice. Each stopped before me, offering themselves, their loyalty, their future.

I declined each one with gratitude and respect. "I am happy with what I have," I told them. "My family is complete. My heart has no room for more. Thank you. Thank you for offering. But I must say no."

They accepted with grace, moving on to other possibilities, other futures. I watched them go, feeling no regret, no doubt. I had my six. I had my chaos. I had my love.

"Mama," Levy said, tugging at my skirt. "What are they doing?"

I lifted her, settling her on my hip, looking out at the ceremony, the choosing, the building of families. "They are picking family members," I told her. "Like how Mama chose your daddies."

"But don’t they have family already?" Levy asked, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Like we have family?"

"Yes," I said, considering how to explain. "Well, they are choosing like Mama did. The females are choosing daddies for future cubs. More daddies means more protection, more love, more family."

Levy considered this, her head tilting. "But you don’t want more daddies?"

"No, baby. Mama has enough. Mama has everything she needs."

I wondered if my explanation made sense to her. She was eight months old now, smart and curious and growing so fast. But some concepts were too big for small minds. Some things had to be lived to be understood.

Just then, Caelion appeared at my side, his face pale, his eyes urgent. He leaned close, his lips brushing my ear, his whisper barely audible.

"The leopard cubs," he said. "They’re shifting. Now. At home. You need to come. Quickly."

My heart stopped. Then raced.

I handed Levy to Aureon without explanation, without words, and I ran. Through the crowd, past the ceremony, through the village streets, my feet pounding against stone, my breath ragged in my throat. Home. I had to get home.

I burst through the door to find chaos.

Tavren, Kaizen, and Zarek were on the floor, their small bodies thrashing, their spotted fur slick with sweat, their voices raised in cries of pain and confusion. Their bones were shifting, breaking, reconstructing, the change upon them at last, inevitable and necessary, the natural time having come. They were six months old. It was time. But knowing that did not make it any less terrifying to watch.

I dropped to my knees beside them, my hands hovering, wanting to help, knowing I couldn’t. This was their battle. Their bodies had to do this. I could only watch, only witness, only love them through the pain.

"It’s okay," I whispered, my voice breaking. "It’s okay, my babies. Mama’s here. Mama’s right here. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be beautiful. You’re going to be whole."

But it wasn’t okay. It was agony. Watching them suffer, watching their small bodies contort, hearing their screams, it was a torture no parent should endure. And I had endured it before. With Atlas, with Chase, with Ryder, with Jasper. With Niku and Sikai. With Levy.

It never got easier. It never would.

Tavren thrashed, his back arching, his bones cracking with sounds that made my stomach turn. Kaizen whimpered, tears streaming down his face, his paws clawing at the floor. Zarek was silent, his jaw clenched, his eyes closed, enduring with a stoicism that broke my heart.

Two hours. Two hours of watching, of whispering, of praying to gods I wasn’t sure I believed in. Two hours of agony.

Then, finally, silence.

The thrashing stopped. The crying faded. Three small boys lay on the floor, panting, sweating, their chests heaving with exhausted breaths. Human. They were what this world called; in their man form. They had shifted.

I crawled to them, gathering them into my arms, holding them close, feeling their hearts race against my skin. "You’re beautiful," I sobbed, pressing kisses to their damp hair. "You’re perfect. You’re whole. You’re mine."

And they were beautiful.

Rina had been no ordinary beast woman. She had been beautiful in a way that hurt to look at, sharp and cold and devastating. Evil, yes. Cruel, absolutely. But her beauty had been real, undeniable, the kind that made people forget her cruelty until it was too late.

These boys had inherited that beauty. Even as children, even covered in sweat and tears, they were stunning. Light blonde hair with a tint of orange, like honey touched by flame. Yellow eyes, bright and sharp, with black irises that seemed to see everything. Faces that would break hearts, that would start wars, that would inspire poetry and madness.

They looked like their mother. The mother who had tried to kill me, who had betrayed everything, who had died in darkness.

But they were mine. They were love. They were hope. They were the future I had chosen, the family I had built from the wreckage of her hate.

"Welcome," I whispered to them, holding them close, feeling their small hands clutch at me. "Welcome to your true form, my sons. Welcome home."

And as they clung to me, as their tears dried and their breathing evened and their new eyes looked up at me with wonder and trust, I knew that no matter what came next, no matter how many shifts I had to witness, how many pains I had to endure, it was worth it.

They were worth it.

All of them.