Seth Clearwater wasn’t supposed to be here.

He had only meant to clear his head—too much noise in the pack link, too much confusion in his own heart. Ever since siding with Jacob, everything felt uncertain. Bella. The Cullens. Sam. Even his sister barely looked at him the same. Seth knew what loyalty was, but being loyal to the wrong person could tear a pack apart. He didn’t want to be a traitor. He didn’t want to be a soldier. He just wanted to breathe.

So he ran.

Paws pounding against damp earth, wind slicing through fur. The silence in his head—sweet, blessed silence—was worth the risk of wandering too far from the others. He barely noticed how far he’d gone. He didn’t care.

Until he smelled it.

Not vampire. Not human. Something older. The air itself seemed to bend around the scent—laced with herbs and ash and rain. Power. The kind of power that rooted deep in the soil and hummed like ancient stone. His hackles rose, not in fear, but in reverence. The forest stilled around him, as though holding its breath.

Then he saw her.

She stood alone, near the base of a moss-covered tree, her silhouette softened by the mist curling around her ankles. She looked like a girl—young, serene, draped in black and moss-green, with bare feet pressed gently to the forest floor and hair falling down her back like shadow and smoke. Her skin glowed like moonlight caught in water, and her eyes—

Her eyes were ancient.

And every instinct in Seth screamed: She is not what she seems.

Because she wasn’t.

She was a witch. Not a hedge-witch or a new age enchantress—but something ancient, something timeless. Thousands of years old, older than the Volturi, older than the wolves. She had seen kingdoms rise and fall, had walked through fires and frozen lakes and battlefields soaked in blood. Most feared her. Some worshipped her. None ever tamed her.

Her name was long forgotten by history—but whispered still among certain circles. A wandering relic of magic. A myth that bled through generations. She kept to herself, until the rare moment came when someone summoned her.

Carlisle Cullen had called.

Not for war—but for help.

The child growing inside Bella Swan was no ordinary hybrid. It broke laws no one had written. Bent the rules of life, magic, death. Carlisle knew what it might mean for their future. And the witch, in her quiet, cryptic way, agreed to come. Not because she cared for the girl—but because Carlisle was one of the few immortals who had once treated her like a person, not a weapon.

But even she hadn’t expected this.

She felt it before she saw him—a pulse. A ripple in the fabric of fate. A gravitational shift in the universe’s balance.

A wolf, watching her from the trees.

Not snarling. Not running. Just staring.

Golden brown fur. Wide eyes. A stillness so intense it was almost reverent.

She tilted her head slowly. Measured. Curious.

And then, softly, her lips parted. “Imprint.”

Seth’s breath hitched in his wolf form. The pull was instant. Soul-deep. Not a spark—but a collapse, like two stars crashing into each other across galaxies. His entire world narrowed into her—this strange, impossible woman who somehow belonged to him.

Her? Of all people—her?

And she—gods, she smiled.

“I wondered when I’d feel that again,” she said softly, more to herself than to him. Her voice carried like smoke on wind. “You’re late, little wolf. I’ve been waiting for centuries.”

Seth didn’t move. Couldn’t. His heart thudded wildly in his chest, more human than beast. The imprint flooded every cell in his body with something terrifying and euphoric all at once. Not love. Not yet. But bond. Recognition. Devotion. Something beyond words.

She stepped forward, her bare feet silent on the forest floor. Still unafraid.

“You should shift back,” she murmured, raising a brow. “I’d rather see the boy before the beast.”

And just like that, Seth knew his life was never going to be the same.

Not because he was a wolf.

But because he belonged to something far more powerful now—her.