Scarlett (Second Edition) by Karima Saad Usman novel Chapter 61

Lucian’s POV

Leaving Scarlett behind weighed heavily on my heart. It hurt, really hurt, but we didn’t see the need to bring her along to see Elsa, our seer. As we journeyed to Leafwall, the settlement where Elsa lived, my mind was filled with thoughts of Scarlett. Every step we took, every breath, seemed to remind me of her—the warmth we shared, the unspoken promises between us. Even though we hadn’t taken things all the way, what we’d shared felt complete, fulfilling in ways I hadn’t expected. The pleasure had been raw, different, something that lingered in my veins, and I questioned why I’d ever denied myself that happiness before.

For so long, I’d held onto grudges, nursing old wounds as if they were my only companions. But they felt distant now, forgotten fragments of another time. There was no reason to keep them alive any longer.

All that mattered was that Scarlett was ours, and I was ready to embrace her with everything I had. The past, with all its bitterness and pain, was fading like smoke in the wind.

My sister would never want me to lose joy in the name of revenge or anger. Nikolay was gone; he had taken his sins and darkness with him, leaving us free to love as fiercely and completely as we wanted. Scarlett was our mate, our precious one, and I would love her, protect her, hold her dear every single day until our last breath.

Maxwell’s voice broke my reverie.

“Have you noticed Scarlett’s eyes? They’re getting greener every day,” he remarked softly, his voice laced with a hint of curiosity and wonder.

I nodded, remembering how I’d seen it too–those eyes, shifting to a vibrant, almost electric green. But I hadn’t given it much thought. Maybe I’d ignored it, wanting to believe it was just my imagination, or perhaps I was afraid of what it could mean.

Clay spoke up, his voice thoughtful. “That colour… it’s not normal. It’s like neon, glowing almost. Especially strange, knowing she wasn’t born with them like that.”

I sighed, feeling a weight settle in my chest. “I plan to ask Elsa about it. Maybe the spirits will reveal something to her, something we don’t understand yet. There’s so much about Scarlett that remains a mystery.”

“I hesitated, feeling a tinge of sorrow.

“The fact that her wolf hasn’t come… it troubles me. It’s like an emptiness in her, and it makes no sense. A Valkin Alpha’s child should have a wolf.”

Silence fell over us, each of us lost in our own thoughts. It was something we rarely spoke about, yet it gnawed at the back of my mind constantly.

Scarlett, our precious Scarlett, without a wolf–a concept that felt as wrong as a sunless sky. If her wolf never came, if she remained wolfless forever, then it would fall on us to protect her always.

I was ready for that, more than ready; I would guard her with my life and take pride in every moment of it. But I knew Scarlett too well. She was fierce, independent. She wouldn’t want to rely on anyone, let alone us, for her strength.

I could only hope, with every part of me, that her wolf would awaken, not just for our sake but for hers, She deserved that freedom, that power within her.

And as we continued on our journey, my heart ached with the hope that one day soon, she’d find all the strength she needed right inside her own soul.

We arrived at Leafwall in the soft, golden light of late afternoon, and I felt a strange mix of anticipation and unease as we approached Elsa’s cabin. Stepping inside, I noticed at once that her fireplace was unlit.

it wasn’t as though Elsa needed the warmth herself, but the absence of the fire’s glow left the room feeling strangely cold, almost hollow.

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Chapter 61

A trusetting stillness hung in the air, and I shivered despite myself. Flsa had always kept a fire burning–it was tradition, a source of both light and Tumfort. Without it, the room felt empty, almost ominous.

Someone cleared their throat, pulling us from the chitl of our thoughts. We turned to see Elsa herself, standing there with a quiet elegance. She wore an orange jacket that seemed to radiate warmth against her dark jeans and black camisole, and her full, grey hair framed her face like a soft cloud. She looked timeless, like someone who belonged both to the present and to ancient days long past.

“To what do I owe this visit?” Elsa asked, her voice both kind and curious. Her gaze softened as she approached us, and we met her open arms with warm embraces. Elsa’s family had served ours faithfully for generations, she was more than an ally—she was family, a trusted guardian of our history and our future.

“I noticed your fireplace is off,” I murmured, glancing toward it. Her eyes followed mine, and a faint smile played on her lips as if she’d been expecting the question.

“I’ll explain,” she replied with a knowing look, then gestured for us to follow her into her inner room. Once inside, we settled into a circle around a small, low table. At its center sat Elsa’s glancing bowl, an ancient vessel she used to glimpse the hidden messages of the spirits. The sight of it always filled me with wonder and a little fear, for whatever the bowl revealed would change the course of things in ways we couldn’t predict.

Elsa looked around at us, her expression solemn. “I don’t have much time,” she said, her voice steady but laced with urgency. I shifted in my chair, feeling the weight of her words press upon us like the very air had thickened.

“The winds have been restless,” she continued, her eyes darkening as she spoke. “There’s an omen in their movement–a warning of something grave. Something that began as a mistake, something small but powerful enough to call forth a dark force. It’s why the fireplace is out, so I can feel the chill, let it reach into my bones, and read its meaning more clearly.”

A deep silence fell over us as her words took hold, eerie and heavy with unknown meaning. “This evil,” she went on, her voice softer, almost whispering now, “has to do with a coldness–an emptiness, a broken soul. It’s something that has been submerged, held underwater for too long, struggling, unable to breathe. There’s a sense of suffocation in this darkness, like something fighting desperately but slipping farther away with every breath.”

Her words wrapped around us, each one twisting in my mind like a riddle I couldn’t solve. Coldness. A broken soul. Something held underwater, choking on the weight of silence and secrets. I felt an uneasy pull, sensing these weren’t just words but fragments of a future none of us could fully see. I remembered what my father had once told me, his face grave with an old warning: If a seer’s fireplace goes cold, something is terribly wrong.

And now, sitting here in Elsa’s cold, dark room, I knew he had been right. Something was wrong, something dark and waiting, and it was closer than we’d

ever imagined.

Comments

R Visitor

well, if that description did not fit their new mate to a T! And definitely not shocking.

7 days ago

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