Chapter 127 What if
Ira's POV
The buildings around us stand quite close together, their dull walls stripped of color by time. The narrow windows look like they haven't been open in years.
Even the wind seems to hesitate here. It feels so abandoned that the few people hanging around look so out of place.
My attention catches on five figures standing apart from the others. Their hair is white, a bright contrast against their dark dresses.
They all stand tall, that even when they turn their heads, their shoulders remain straight and their chins lift slightly. I've never even imagined wearing my hair with so much pride.
They look wonderful.
Without thinking, I touch my own hair then lean towards Bukasvad, keeping my voice low. “Is it really all right for me to leave my hair down like this? Everyone is staring.”
He does not hesitate. “They are staring because they have prayed for this sight for years, Ira.”
“For my hair?”
“No, for you.” His mouth curves gently. “You are with your people now. You no longer have any reason to hide.”
His certainty settles heavy and warm at the same time in my chest and I nod.
Before I can answer, a shout cuts across the square.
“Buk!”
A small figure races down the wide steps of the largest building facing us. The structure rises taller than the rest, its exterior deliberately worn, vines clinging to its surface as though the place has been forgotten. Yet the windows are intact. The steps are clean.
As the boy launches himself forward, Bukasvad releases my hand and catches him midair.
I watch silently as the child clings to him fiercely. “Where were you? I thought the wolves took you. I thought you were gone.”
“I am not so easy to take,” Bukasvad replies, his laughter quiet but real. “And you will not win sympathy points just because you are a small boy, Yona.”
Yona pulls back with a pout, studying Bukasvad’s face carefully before seeming satisfied. Then as if only now noticing me, he turns toward me.
His eyes widen dramatically but just when he opens his mouth to speak, a soft ethereal voice drifts from the top of the steps.
“You truly found her.”
I look up.
A woman stands by the now opened door. She's adorned in black from neck to… well the gown practically sweeps the floor so I can't see what's underneath.
Her hair falls straight and dark, outlining a face carved in sharp planes. Her eyes are a deep, endless black, like polished obsidian that reflects nothing back.
They settle on me, immediately reminding of the vision I once had where I first saw someone that looked like her.
For a brief second, her mouth tightens. Not enough for anyone else to notice. Just enough for something inside my stomach to twist.
Then almost like I'd imagined it, the tension vanishes and her expression becomes serene… welcoming.
The woman descends the steps slowly, her movements unhurried.
“Welcome,” she says, stopping two feet away from me.
Up close, I see faint lines at the corners of her eyes and they do not soften when she smiles.
The people around us shift subtly. The five white haired figures bow slightly to her, proving just how much respect she wields here.
Her gaze drifts to my hair and rests there for a second too long before lifting back to my face.
It is not open hostility, but she also doesn't look pleased.
The surrounding grows so quiet that I start to hear my own breathing.
Then she inclines her head. “Come inside. You must be tired.” and without waiting, she strides back inside.
Bukasvad’s hand returns to my hand, guiding me forward. I feel eyes following my every step, some shine with admiration but others seem to hold something quieter.
Or maybe I'm just overthinking. Maybe a part of me is on edge because I'm so used to being hated.
Inside, warmth greets us immediately. The difference is jarring, at least for me.
Beyond the doors, the building sheds its abandoned shell. The floors gleam, the walls are paneled in pale wood threaded with faint silver veins that shimmer softly in the firelight. A long hearth burns along one wall, blue flames dancing steadily but casting a gentle glow rather than the cold light outside.
I inhale, relaxing under the floral clean smell in the air.
Organized shelves line one side of the room. Woven rugs soften the floor. Not one thing inside here looks abandoned. The whole abandoned look on the outside must be a facade.
I inhale again.
There is no sharp undertone of fur or wild musk. No earthy heat that usually clings to werewolves even when they stand still. The absence is immediate and strange. I did not realize how accustomed I had grown to that scent until now.
The absence makes the air feel like something is missing.
I'm distracted from my thoughts when I spot two young faces peek from the hallway. A girl with white hair and a boy around her age step closer, their excitement impossible to hide.
“She is brighter than the stories,” the girl who looks to be no more than fifteen whispers so loudly that I hear.
“She is beautiful,” the boy adds, not bothering to lower his voice.
Their awe brushes over me, warming my heart in a way that keeps me frozen.
“Sit Ira,” Bukasvad smiles, looking much more at ease here than at the base.
“We are honored,” the black eyed woman says.
I lift my head and realize she is no longer alone. A man and another woman sit beside her near the hearth. They all appear to be middle aged. The second woman’s hair is a striking shade of blue, falling neatly over her shoulders.
I can't tell if it's dyed or natural.
“We waited so long,” the blue haired woman says softly. “There were nights we believed hope had been foolish.”
“You will restore balance,” the man adds, his voice thick with emotion. “Now the war can finally end.”
Their words should comfort me but they don't.
Yet the woman in black watches me without blinking. Her expression remains composed, but her eyes flick between my face and my hair as though mapping something invisible.
“Tonight you will stay in the north chamber,” she says. “It has been prepared for you.”
I nod quietly.
The two teenagers step forward at once. The girl’s wide smile seems to be the only genuine one around here, the boy’s freckles stand out against his pale skin.
“May we show her?” he asks the three people sitting opposite me.
The woman nods.
I glance at Bukasvad who gives a slight nod as though to assure me that I'll be alright.
And so I follow them. The girl smiles gently, “We have waited our entire lives to meet you.”
Gesturing toward the hallway, the boy smiles. “Please, ma'am.”
Ma'am? It's almost funny.
I quietly follow them but I can't push down the negative feeling in my chest. They didn't even introduce themselves… no one did.
What if coming here wasn't the right decision after all?