Ex-Alpha's Regret: Siren's Comeback novel Chapter 91

POV: Seraphina

After what felt like an eternity adrift on an endless gray sea, the lookout's cry of "Land ho!" was a jolt that ran through the entire fleet. I stood on the bridge of our lead vessel, the sea spray cool on my face, and watched as our new home emerged from the morning mist. Killian Vance had called it an island. That was an understatement. It was a fortress, forged by nature and perfected by man.

Aethelgard. The name itself, ancient and strong, seemed fitting. Sheer, black cliffs rose hundreds of feet from the churning, turquoise water, forming a natural, impassable wall around most of the island's perimeter. There was only one viable approach: a deep, narrow channel that led into a protected harbor, a modern marvel of engineering carved directly into the rock. I could see automated defense turrets, discreetly built into the cliff face, their dark lenses glinting in the morning sun. It was a dragon's hoard, a pirate's cove, a king's last redoubt. It was perfect.

As our ships navigated the channel and entered the calm, deep waters of the harbor, a wave of palpable emotion washed over my people who had gathered on the decks. I could see it on their faces, hear it in their hushed whispers. There was the profound, soul-deep sorrow of the exile, the grief for a home, an ancestral land, they might never see again. There was the raw, nervous uncertainty of the refugee, stepping onto a foreign shore with nothing but the clothes on their back. The cries of tired, frightened children mixed with the quiet weeping of their mothers, a heart-wrenching symphony of loss.

But beneath the grief and fear, there was something else. A flicker of hope. The sight of this impregnable fortress, this promise of a new beginning, was a balm to their shattered spirits. The chaos of our flight was behind us. The immediate threat was gone. Here, they could breathe.

The disembarkation was an exercise in controlled chaos. Jax and Rhys, their faces grim and businesslike, directed the warriors in establishing a security perimeter, while the elders, led by Elias, began the monumental task of organizing the civilians—hundreds of families, their faces a mixture of exhaustion and bewilderment.

They needed more than just orders. They needed an anchor.

I paused, letting the weight of my final promise settle over them. I met the eyes of the warriors, the mothers, the elders.

"And third," I said, my voice dropping to a low, intense vow that vibrated with the cold fire of my wolf's hatred, "everything that was taken from us—our homes, our wealth, our honor—I will personally lead you to reclaim it. We will not just survive. We will return, and we will have our vengeance."

There was no cheering. But as I looked at their faces, I saw the fear in their eyes begin to recede, replaced by the first, faint glint of a new, hard-won resolve. It was enough. For now.