CHAPTER 137: VISITING THE SEER

Dane’s POV

I caught Nathan storming down the stairs, his steps heavy, his expression carved with the same torment I carried. Our eyes locked, and for a breathless moment, neither of us spoke. We only stared, two broken mirrors reflecting the same agony. Nathan looked just as wrecked as I felt. He hadn’t been himself since Hailee left yesterday, and I? I was drowning in grief. It felt like someone had carved a hollow in my chest, ripping away a piece of me I couldn’t live without.

I had spent the night making calls, chasing every lead. I contacted the airport, but the answer was always the same—Hailee and her mother never boarded any flight. Strange. If they hadn’t taken the air, then how had they crossed the borders? Road, I thought. They must have gone by road. I reached out to contacts, border patrols, men I trusted to give me truth. But every call ended the same. No record of Hailee. No trace of her mother. Nothing. It was as if they had vanished from existence. Even the guards swore they never drove through. And that thought—the possibility that she had simply disappeared into thin air—consumed me.

Nathan looked away from me, his jaw tight, trying to brush past. But I stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

"Any news?" I asked, my voice rough, almost pleading.

He shook his head once. "No." His eyes were dark, empty, and for a moment he looked even more broken than me. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I’m going to the seer."

The words hit me like a spark of hope. "Then I’m coming with you," I said immediately.

His head snapped up, and I caught the flicker in his eyes—hesitation, resistance. He didn’t want me there. But he didn’t say no. He just pressed his lips together, swallowed his protest, and gave a small, reluctant nod.

We got into the car in silence, the air between us heavy with words we weren’t ready to speak. Nathan gripped the wheel tightly, his knuckles pale as he started the engine and pulled onto the road. For a while, the only sound was the hum of the tires. Then, his voice cut through, low and strained.

"You were the last person with her," he said, his eyes fixed on the road. "Did you... notice anything strange about her?"

My chest tightened. I stared out the window, my mind replaying every moment I’d had with Hailee yesterday. The way she smiled, soft but distant. The way her eyes flickered as if holding secrets she couldn’t share. The weight in her goodbye hug that didn’t feel like a ’see you later’—it felt final.

"Yes," I admitted quietly. "She was... off. Different. Like she was already carrying a decision she’d made, but couldn’t tell me."

Nathan let out a bitter laugh that wasn’t really a laugh at all. His grip on the wheel tightened. "I’m a fool," he muttered. "If I’d seen it—if I’d known something was wrong—I never would’ve let her leave." His voice broke at the end, raw with regret.

I turned to him, my own throat thick. "You’re not the only one, Nathan. I should’ve stopped her too. I should’ve asked her what was wrong instead of pretending everything was fine."

Silence fell again, heavy with guilt neither of us could shake. The road stretched endlessly before us, but both of us were already bracing for what waited at the end.

After a long drive, the car finally slowed as we pulled up to the seer’s dwelling. The air around it felt different—thicker, charged, like the earth itself held its breath here. The small house sat at the edge of the woods, cloaked in shadows, its windows glowing faintly with flickering candlelight.

Nathan cut the engine, his jaw set tight. He didn’t move, didn’t reach for the door. For a moment, we just sat there, the weight of what we might learn pressing down on us.

"Ready?" I asked softly, though I wasn’t sure either of us really was.

His answer was a grim nod, and together we stepped out into the night, heading toward the seer who held the answers we desperately needed.

The door creaked open before we even knocked. A rush of incense and something older—earth, smoke, power—slid out into the night. The seer stood in the doorway, draped in dark robes, her pale eyes glinting as if she had already been waiting.

"Sir Nathan," she greeted, her voice carrying the weight of a whisper and a storm at once. "I felt your coming."

Nathan inclined his head, though his shoulders stayed tense. "Someone left," he said tightly. "And I need to know where she is."

The seer tilted her head, studying him, then me, her gaze sharp enough to cut through skin and bone. She didn’t ask who, as if she already knew—but instead, she extended a thin, wrinkled hand. "Show me her image."

Nathan reached into his jacket, pulling out his worn leather wallet. From a hidden slot, he drew out Hailee’s passport. My chest constricted as I stared at her photo.

And that’s when it struck me. I didn’t even have a single physical copy of her. Not a picture. Not a thing to hold onto but fading memories. The realization dug deep, hollowing out my chest.

The seer took the passport gently, her fingers brushing over Hailee’s image. She closed her eyes, holding it to her heart. The candles inside the room flickered violently, as though a sudden wind had swept through, though no breeze touched us.

Then she began.

Her voice shifted low, ancient syllables spilling from her tongue in a rhythm I couldn’t understand. The air thickened, pressing against my skin. The shadows in the corners seemed to twitch, moving as though alive.

Nathan stood rigid beside me, but I could feel his wolf straining beneath his control. Mine too—it didn’t like this place, this power, these words that felt like they weren’t meant for mortal ears.

The seer’s hands trembled slightly as she chanted, and the flames in the room turned blue. A pulse of power rolled through the air, making my bones hum. Finally, her eyes snapped open, glowing faintly as she stared at us.