Chapter 19 The Seer's Warning (Thalia's POV)
I wake to Petra shaking my shoulder gently.
"Miss Thornewood? You have a visitor."
I force my eyes open, squinting against morning light that still feels too bright. "What time is it?"
"Nine AM. I let you sleep as late as I could, but… " She hesitates. "Sorin Dragomir is here. He's requesting a private meeting with you."
That wakes me up completely. I sit up, immediately alert. "Sorin? Why?"
"He didn't say. Just that it was important and time-sensitive." Petra is already laying out clothes… a simple dress, nothing formal. "Your mother is at a pack council meeting until noon, so she won't know if you don't want her to."
The implication hangs there. I could refuse. Could tell Petra to send him away, inform Morrigan later. But after last night's conversation with Lucien about Sorin's separate agenda, I'm curious what Casimir's uncle wants badly enough to come here alone.
"Tell him I'll meet him in the library in twenty minutes."
Petra nods and disappears. I shower quickly, my mind racing through possibilities. Why would Sorin come here? What does he want? Is this part of Casimir's manipulation or something else?
Twenty minutes later, I'm dressed and composed, walking into the library with my enhanced senses on high alert. Sorin stands by the window, backlit by morning sun, looking older than he did at the engagement announcement. Lines are etched deep around his eyes and mouth, silver hair catching the light, posture slightly stooped like he's carrying weight no one else can see.
He smells like anxiety and something herbal… sage, maybe? And underneath, a metallic tang that reminds me of the scent I associate with fear.
"Miss Thornewood." He turns as I enter. "Thank you for agreeing to see me."
"Did I have much choice?" I close the door behind me, staying near it. "You requested this meeting knowing my mother wouldn't approve. That suggests urgency. Or manipulation."
A smile flickers across his face. "Direct. I appreciate that. Your mother would have spent ten minutes on pleasantries before addressing the actual purpose of my visit."
"I'm not my mother." I move to the chair across from where he's standing but don't sit. "Why are you here, Sorin?"
He studies me for a long moment. "You've shifted recently. Within the last few days, I'd guess."
Not a question. An observation.
"Does Casimir know you're here?" I counter.
"No. This conversation is... outside official channels." He gestures to the chairs. "Please. Sit. What I need to discuss will take some time."
Against my better judgment, I sit. He settles into the opposite chair, moving like his joints pain him.
"I'm a seer," he says without preamble. "Have been since I was seventeen years old. The gift manifested late… most seers show abilities in childhood… but when it came, it was overwhelming."
"I know what you are. You told me at the engagement announcement." I keep my voice neutral. "You mentioned seeing futures. Fragments of possibilities."
"Yes. But I wasn't entirely honest about the scope of what I see." He leans forward, hands clasped between his knees. "The visions aren't just fragments anymore. Not when it comes to you."
The metallic fear-scent intensifies. He's genuinely frightened of something.
"What do you see?" I ask carefully.
"Futures. Plural. Branching from this exact moment in ways that are... unprecedented." He rubs his face with both hands. "I've been a seer for forty-two years, Thalia. I've glimpsed thousands of possible timelines. But I've never seen them branch like this. Usually there are clear paths, probable outcomes, a few wild variations. But with you… " He stops. "Everything is chaos. Possibility layered on possibility until I can barely distinguish between what might happen and what definitely will."
"Is that unusual?"
"It's terrifying." The admission is raw. "It suggests that your choices, your actions, have the potential to reshape everything. Not just pack politics or territorial alliances. Everything."
I process this, trying to separate genuine prophecy from potential manipulation. "You said at the announcement that you'd seen multiple scenarios. Some bright, some dark. Many ending in fire and blood."
"I did. And those visions have only intensified since then." He stands abruptly, pacing to the window. "In some futures, I see peace. All three packs united, governance shared, old wounds healing. The werewolf world enters a golden age of cooperation and prosperity."
"And in others?"
"In others, I see complete destruction. Packs tearing each other apart. Cities burning. Humans discovering our existence and hunting us to extinction. Apocalyptic scenarios that make the civil war 153 years ago look like a minor skirmish." His voice drops. "And in every single one… bright or dark, peaceful or catastrophic… there's a child."
The child. The prophecy vessel Lucien and I discussed last night.
"What child?" I keep my expression carefully blank.
"The one you'll bear." He turns to face me. "In every future I see beyond the next year, there's a child with golden eyes standing at the center of events. Sometimes guiding the packs toward unity. Sometimes wielding power so absolute that even Alphas kneel in terror. Sometimes… " He stops, shaking his head. "Sometimes the child is just a child, innocent and unaware of what it represents. But in all timelines, that child becomes the fulcrum on which everything turns."
"I'm not pregnant." The denial comes automatically.
"Not yet. But you will be. Sooner than you think." He moves back to his chair but doesn't sit. "The mate bond you complete ensures it. Convergence wolves conceive easily once bonded. It's part of what makes your bloodline so powerful… the ability to reproduce quickly and prolifically."
I don't confirm or deny the mate bond. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because in most of the futures I see, you don't have the information you need to make informed choices. People manipulate you. Hide truth from you. Use your power and your children for their own purposes." His expression is haunted. "And in those futures, great suffering results. Not just for you, but for thousands. Millions, potentially."
"Including suffering for you?" I'm watching him carefully, trying to detect lies through scent.
He flinches. "Yes. In many timelines, I suffer. In some, I die violently. In others, I watch people I love die while I stand helpless." The fear-scent intensifies. "Prophecy is a burden, Thalia. Seeing what might happen but being unable to prevent it, or worse, realizing that my attempts to prevent tragedy only ensure it happens… it's a special kind of torture."
"Then why show me anything? Why not just let events unfold naturally?"
"Because I've learned something in forty-two years of visions." He finally sits, looking exhausted. "Prophecies aren't certainties. They're possibilities shaped by choices. The future isn't written; it's being written constantly by every decision we make. And I believe… I desperately hope… that if you have the right information, you might make choices that lead us toward the better futures instead of the catastrophic ones."
I study him, trying to determine if this is genuine or another layer of manipulation. His scent suggests fear and genuine distress, but scent can be manipulated by those who know how.
"What specific information are you giving me?" I ask.
"First: the child you'll bear will be sought by all three packs. Everyone will want to control it, shape it, use it for their own purposes." His voice is firm now, professorial. "Morrigan will see it as a tool to maintain Thornewood dominance. Ravenna will see it as a threat to eliminate. And Casimir… " He pauses. "Casimir will see it as his legacy, a way to reshape the werewolf world after he's gone."
"That's not new information. Lucien and I already figured that out."
Sorin's eyebrow raises. "You and Lucien Voss have been discussing the prophecy together?"
Shit. I shouldn't have said that.
"Continue with your information," I deflect.
He studies me for a moment, then nods. "Second: the child's fate will determine whether the packs unite or destroy each other. Not the child's power… its fate. How it's raised, what it's taught, who it trusts, what values it internalizes. That will shape how it uses the immense abilities it will inherit from you."
"So the key is raising the child correctly." I'm taking mental notes. "What constitutes 'correctly' in your visions?"
"That's what I can't see clearly." Frustration edges his voice. "The visions show outcomes, not processes. I see a child that unites the packs through compassion and wisdom. I see a child that conquers them through fear and absolute power. I see a child that rejects pack politics entirely and tries to live as human. But I can't see the specific choices that lead to each outcome."
"That's conveniently vague."
"That's how prophecy works." He spreads his hands. "I see destinations, not roadmaps. Knowing the destination is supposed to help you choose the right path, but… " He stops, something crossing his face. "But sometimes knowing the destination influences your choices in ways that ensure you reach the wrong one."
"Self-fulfilling prophecy."
"Exactly." He leans back, looking drained. "I've spent months trying to determine which information to share, when to share it, how much is helpful versus how much creates the very outcomes I'm trying to prevent. It's an impossible calculation."
"Why share anything at all, then? Why not just stay silent and let events unfold?"
"Because in the futures where I say nothing, where I try to manipulate events from the shadows without your knowledge… " He closes his eyes. "In those futures, everything goes catastrophically wrong. The only timelines where there's hope are the ones where you make informed choices. Where you know what's at stake and decide for yourself how to proceed."
I let that sit for a moment. "You said you have your own agenda. Separate from Casimir's."
He opens his eyes, and there's surprise there. "Who told you that?"
"Does it matter? You just said you're trying to give me information to make informed choices. Part of being informed is knowing what everyone's agenda actually is."
A pause. Then, quietly: "Fair point."
"So what is your agenda, Sorin?"
He's silent for a long moment, clearly wrestling with how much to reveal. Finally: "I have a son. He's in exile, has been for five years. I've seen futures where he returns, where he's forgiven, where he makes peace with what he's done. But I've also seen… " His voice catches. "In every timeline where your child lives, my son dies. Not immediately. Not directly. But within ten years of the child's birth, my son is dead. Sometimes killed by Casimir seeking revenge. Sometimes killed by Voss wolves seeking justice. Sometimes killed by events the child sets in motion without even knowing."
"I'm trying to save everyone." His voice is anguished. "My son, yes. But also you, your child, the thousands who would die in the wars that follow if everything goes wrong. I'm not choosing my son over the greater good… I'm trying to find a timeline where both can survive."
"But you just said in every future where my child lives, your son dies."
"In every future I've seen so far." He meets my gaze. "But the futures are shifting. Changing in ways I didn't anticipate. Variables I couldn't account for are entering the equation. You shifted earlier than expected. The mate bond formed faster than predicted. Casimir's illness is progressing more rapidly than medical projections suggested. All of these changes are creating new branches, new possibilities I haven't fully explored yet."
"So you're hoping that if you give me information, I'll make choices that somehow lead to a future where both my child and your son survive?"
"Yes." The admission is raw. "I know it's selfish. I know I should prioritize the greater good over one man's life, even if that man is my son. But I keep seeing the futures where he dies…" He stops, composing himself. "I'm a father before I'm a seer. I can't just accept his death as inevitable."
I should be angry.
"That's a lot to ask from a prophecy."
"I know. But I have to try." He stands, moving toward the door. "I came here to warn you about what's coming. About the child, the choices you'll face, the fact that everyone has their own agenda regarding your future. But I also came hoping… " He stops. "Hoping that you might be the variable that changes everything. The one person unpredictable enough to create futures I haven't seen yet."
"No pressure." The sarcasm is automatic.
"I'm sorry. I know this is overwhelming. You're nineteen years old, you've just discovered what you are, and I'm dumping prophecies and impossible choices on you." He turns back at the door. "But you deserve to know the stakes. Deserve to understand that the decisions you make in the next few weeks will ripple forward for generations."
"Wait." I stand as he reaches for the door handle. "The child you see in your visions. The one with golden eyes. Do you see who the father is?"
He's silent for a long moment. Then: "In most futures, it's Lucien Voss. But in some, the genetics are... complicated. Legal paternity versus biological paternity creates situations where the child carries markers from all three bloodlines in ways that shouldn't be possible."
"What does that mean?"
"It means prophecies work in mysterious ways." He opens the door. "Trust your instincts, Thalia."
"That's conveniently vague advice."
"It's the best I can offer." He pauses. "One more thing. The mate bond you've formed… guard it carefully. In the futures where it survives intact, where you and Lucien work together as true partners, those are the timelines with the most hope. When the bond is broken or betrayed or used as leverage, everything collapses into tragedy."
Then he's gone, leaving me standing in the library with more questions than answers.
I sink back into the chair, my mind spinning through everything he revealed.
And in timelines where Lucien and I work together, there's hope.
I don't know if Sorin was trying to help or just manipulating me in a different direction than everyone else. His fear seemed genuine, his anguish about his son real. But seers are skilled at deception… they have to be, to navigate the complex politics of pack life while carrying visions of multiple futures.
The only thing I'm certain of is that I need to tell Lucien about this conversation. Tonight, when I meet him and Nikolai. They need to know about Sorin's agenda, about his son, about the shifting timelines.
My phone buzzes. Text from unknown number: "Meeting confirmed. Midnight. Bring questions."
Lucien. Or Nikolai using Lucien's phone.
I type back: "Have many questions. See you then."
The response is immediate: "How's your morning?"
I almost laugh. After everything that just happened, he's checking in like we're a normal couple with normal concerns.
"Complicated. Sorin just left. Need to debrief."
"Fuck. Are you okay?"
"Yes. Shaken but unharmed. He wanted to warn me about prophecies and futures."
"We'll discuss tonight. Stay safe. I love you."
The words stop me cold. He's never said that directly before. Implied it, suggested it, but never stated it so plainly.
I type: "I love you too."
It feels dangerous to send. Like admitting a vulnerability that could be exploited. But it's also true, and after Sorin's warning about trusting my instincts, I decide honesty is the right choice.
"See you tonight, moya dusha."