Cayro Bracton
October 30, 2025
09:14 EST
Norton Creek Resort
Gatlinburg, TN
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The tie still wasn’t right.
I yanked at it again, my fingers fumbling with the knot, making it worse. The mirror wasn’t helping—its reflection felt more like an accusation than assistance. Pale. Tense. The emerald-green tie clashed horribly against the dark charcoal suit. Too tight. Too formal. Too… wrong.
“Hold still, Cayro.”
My grandfather’s voice cut through the spiral like a knife. A soft chuckle followed as he swatted my hands away, his patience more generous than I deserved.
“You’ll strangle yourself if you keep at it.”
I exhaled slowly, letting him take over. His hands were steady. Familiar. I hadn’t realized how much I needed that grounding until now.
“There. Sharp as ever. Like a Bracton should be.”
I forced a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. My stomach twisted into knots.
A beat of silence stretched. I hesitated, then glanced up.
“Are you sure… about me taking the Zaraki name? Shouldn’t Star be the one changing hers?”
His hands paused, lingering on my shoulders. He didn’t answer right away. That silence spoke louder than words.
“Cayro,” he said finally, his voice quieter, heavier. “After everything your father’s done, that name doesn’t deserve to shadow you. The Bracton name...” His grip tightened, not enough to hurt but enough to anchor me. “It carries too much weight. Too much pain. This is your future. Not his.”
The words hit harder than I expected. For once, it didn’t feel like I was running from something. It felt like I was choosing something better.
A sharp cough broke the moment.
I turned.
Dr. Zaraki had stopped pacing, frozen mid-stride. His eyes locked on me—wide, unreadable.
“You’re… taking our name?”
It wasn’t anger. Not even judgment. Just something softer. Hesitant. Like the words didn’t quite make sense in his mouth.
I opened my mouth to answer, but my grandfather spoke first.
“He is,” he said firmly, but without force. His hand stayed on my shoulder. “After everything his father’s done, the Bracton name doesn’t deserve to follow him into this future. He deserves better.”
Dr. Zaraki didn’t move. His eyes didn’t narrow, didn’t harden.
Then—slowly—his shoulders sagged, just a fraction.
And in that crack, I saw something flicker. Not approval. Not acceptance.
Pride.
Gratitude.
He inhaled slowly, steadying himself. His voice softened.
“I never thought…” The words trailed off, dissolving into silence. He cleared his throat again, but this time, it wasn’t to steady his voice—it was to cover something deeper.
Then, gradually, a genuine smile crept through. Small. Real.
“Good.” A nod, slow and deliberate. “She deserves someone who stands with her. And you… you’re family now. Truly.”
The air hung heavy after that. Like the room wasn’t sure what to do with this rare moment of understanding.
But it didn’t last.
Dr. Zaraki’s eyes darkened. The tension returned, creeping back into his shoulders. His pacing resumed—faster now, sharper.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, bitter and biting. “I’m supposed to be walking her down the aisle, and here I am. Kept away like some kind of threat.”
My grandfather arched a brow. “Mrs. Bracton is keeping you out for a reason. Aura and Lyra are helping her with the preparations. You’d only be in the way.”
Dr. Zaraki snapped a glare at the closed door. “I am her father. She’s my only daughter. And I can’t even see her before I walk her down the aisle?”
Zak, lounging against the wall in his tailored suit like he owned the place, smirked. “Maybe they just don’t want you micromanaging the floral arrangements. Let them handle it.”
Dr. Zaraki let out a low growl but didn’t argue. His pacing slowed, but the storm still brewed behind his eyes.
I tugged at my sleeves, trying to ground myself. My breath felt thin, shallow. My palms were damp.
Zak’s smirk widened. “Relax, man. You’ve faced a military airship, attacks from government agencies, and more. But a wedding? Yeah, that’s the real nightmare.”
Maybe. But nothing had ever felt this... heavy.
Like the world itself was holding its breath, waiting.
Zak clapped a hand on my shoulder, jarring me just enough to make me stumble.
“Come on, man. It’s going to be fine. Hell, you’ll probably black out and not remember any of it anyway.”
Comforting.
I let out a shaky breath, slow and uneven, and forced my shoulders back. The suit didn’t fit any better, but at least I wasn’t slumping in it.
“Let’s get this over with.”
Zak chuckled, squeezing my shoulder hard enough to feel it. “You make it sound like you’re heading to a firing squad. You’re getting married, not executed.”
I smirked weakly but didn’t answer. The tightness in my chest wasn’t budging.
My grandfather watched me carefully, his expression softening in a way that was rare for him.
“Take a breath, Cayro. You’ve been through worse than this.”
Had I?
Because right now, this felt like standing at the edge of a cliff with no parachute.
I nodded slowly, but his words slid off me like rain on glass. The quiet hum of nerves just wouldn’t stop.
Zak leaned against the wall, arms crossed, still annoyingly at ease.
“We’ve got a bit of time. Maybe we should check in with the others, make sure they’re not burning the place down.”
Before I could answer, a soft knock at the door broke through the tension.
My grandfather moved to open it.
Aura stood there, framed by the hallway light. Her deep amethyst dress shimmered subtly, her eyes sharp but kind.
She offered a small, knowing smile.
“Star sent me. Wanted to make sure Cayro’s still breathing.”
Zak snorted. “Barely.”
Aura’s gaze softened as it settled on me.
“She also wanted you to have this.”
She held out a small silver box, delicate but solid.
I hesitated—then took it, the cool metal oddly grounding.
Lifting the lid slowly, I found a polished silver cufflink resting inside, engraved with the initials S.Z.
Beneath it, a folded note.
‘For luck. Not that you’ll need it. But just in case. I’ll see you soon. —Star’
The knot in my chest loosened, just a fraction.
My grandfather gave a small, knowing smile. “She’s good for you.”
I nodded, swallowing hard, unable to find my voice.
Zak clapped his hands together, the sound too loud in the quiet room.
“Alright, let’s not keep her waiting. Time to face the music.”
I took a slow breath, fastening the cufflink with steadier hands this time.
“Yeah. Let’s do this.”
We stepped out into the cool night air.
It was like walking into another world.
The hum of conversation and nervous energy vanished behind us, replaced by the stillness of the forest.
Above, the sky stretched wide and endless, stars scattered like broken glass across black velvet. Moonlight spilled silver over the towering pines.
Lanterns lined the stone path ahead, their flames flickering in the breeze, casting long shadows that shifted with every step.
In the distance, the ceremony site glowed.
The wooden arch stood tall, draped in deep amethyst and silver, woven with evergreen accents that shimmered in the lantern light.
Elegant. Solid. Just like her.
But none of it eased the weight in my chest.
Zak walked ahead, his usual cocky grin muted but still there. My grandfather moved beside me—steady, grounding.
Behind us, Dr. Zaraki followed. His earlier irritation had dulled, but his tension hadn’t left him.
And then—
A soft mechanical hum broke the silence.
I glanced up.
A small drone hovered toward us, its rotors whispering in the cold air.
A screen flickered to life on its front, casting a faint glow across the path.
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And there he was.
Scuzball.
His smug, feline face stretched lazily across the screen, digital tail flicking with practiced nonchalance.
“Well,” he drawled, voice as smooth as ever, “aren’t we a vision of anxiety.”
Zak blinked. “Okay, that’s new.”
I frowned. “Where the hell did you get that?”
Scuzball’s glowing eyes narrowed slightly, gleaming with mischief.
“Requisitioned.”
My grandfather raised a brow. “Requisitioned from where, exactly?”
Scuzball stretched lazily, pixels rippling like fur.
“Oh, relax. The NAWC has plenty of drones lying around. I just… improved one.”
Zak barked a laugh. “You hacked a drone?”
Scuzball scoffed, tail curling in a slow, deliberate loop.
“Hacked implies effort. I prefer to think of it as… a long-term borrowing arrangement.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “This is not the time for this.”
“Oh, forgive me. I wasn’t aware your nerves required uninterrupted brooding time.”
Zak snorted, and even my grandfather sighed, rubbing his temple.
The drone bobbed closer, the faint hum steady.
“Look,” Scuzball continued, voice smooth but carrying an undercurrent of something sharper, “I’m not here to cause trouble. Well, not right now. Just thought someone should make sure you don’t faint before the ceremony.”
I glared at him. “Not helping.”
“Wasn’t trying to.”
Zak grinned. “He’s got a point, though.”
I didn’t answer.
Scuzball’s holographic tail flicked dismissively.
“Anyway, time’s ticking. Wouldn’t want to keep the bride waiting. And do try not to sweat through that suit—it’s expensive.”
Before I could snap back, the drone spun lazily in midair and glided ahead of us, leading the way.
Zak chuckled, clapping me on the back again. “You really know how to surround yourself with the weirdest people.”
“Don’t remind me.”
The path ahead stretched longer than it should have, each step dragging under the weight pressing on my chest. The soft murmur of the guests drifted on the cool air, mingling with the rhythmic crackle of lantern flames. Shadows flickered along the stone path, twisting with every movement, as though the darkness itself leaned in to watch.
Aura stood at the far end of the aisle, poised and steady, catching my eye with a subtle nod that barely cut through the haze clouding my focus. By her side, Lyra lingered, visibly uncomfortable in formal wear. The sharp lines of the dress did little to dull the coiled tension in her stance—an unspoken promise that anyone foolish enough to disrupt this night would quickly regret it.
Dr. Zaraki slowed his pace, falling into step beside me. His presence was quieter now, the earlier irritation softened into something else.
“She’s waiting.”
His voice was lower than I expected, stripped of his usual authority. It was softer, heavier.
I met his gaze.
There was something in his eyes I hadn’t seen before—something fragile. Not doubt, not hesitation, but the weight of a man realizing how little control he had in this moment.
“I know.”
Zak’s smirk cut through the tension like a knife. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
I inhaled slowly, dragging the air into my lungs, but it caught halfway.
The soft crackle of the lanterns barely reached me, distant and thin. The world felt smaller now, narrowing with every step. Like the trees were leaning in, like the air itself was heavier.
And then I saw him.
My father.
Seated near the front.
Still. Composed.
As if his presence wasn’t a direct insult to every moment I’d spent clawing my way out from under his shadow.
And beside him—Luna Catherine.
Her face was barely familiar. A name and a passing glance from that Council meeting with Zak, nothing more. But now, seated far too close to him, she leaned in just enough to whisper something only he could hear.
He didn’t react.
He didn’t need to.
The knot in my stomach twisted tighter, sinking deeper.
My grip on my sleeves tightened until the fabric creaked, the threads straining under my fingers.
Zak’s voice cut through the noise in my head, little more than a breath.
“Didn’t you tell him not to come?”
“I did.”
My voice felt hollow in my throat. Empty.
Zak’s gaze didn’t leave them, his posture straightening, shoulders tensing.
“And yet, here he is. Like he owns the place.”
My grandfather didn’t speak, but I felt it—a subtle shift in his stance beside me. A brief, familiar tension, like the quiet stillness he carried before handling unruly customers.
But they didn’t see what I did.
This wasn’t arrogance.
This was control.
Then something else. A thread of unease pulled at me.
The faint mechanical hum behind me—Scuzball’s drone—had changed. Barely, but enough.
I glanced over my shoulder.
The drone hovered lower now. Scuzball’s glowing blue eyes, once sharp and alive with smug confidence, had dimmed. His expression was frozen, his usual energy drained into something dull and quiet.
“Scuz?” I murmured, softer now.
No response.
The screen flickered once. Barely noticeable, but unmistakable.
The lively spark that usually flickered behind those artificial eyes was gone, replaced by something... wrong.
Zak leaned in, his tone sharper. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I don’t know.”
My eyes snapped back to the front.
Because my father shifted.
Barely.
A subtle, deliberate adjustment in his posture.
Like he knew I was watching. Like this was all part of some game, and I was already too late to stop it.
Luna Catherine leaned back slowly, her eyes sweeping the aisle with unsettling calm. Searching. Watching.
The tightness in my throat crawled down to my chest, winding itself around my ribs.
Keep moving.
Step.
Of course, he came.
Step.
Of course, he found a way to worm himself into this moment.
Step.
I should’ve known a message wouldn’t be enough.
And still, it rattled me.
We passed rows of guests, their faces blurring together. Smiling. Oblivious.
But every step closer dragged me back to that seat. To him.
To the quiet smirk threatening to tug at the corner of his mouth.
My grandfather spoke, low and steady.
“Keep walking.”
It wasn’t a warning. It wasn’t comfort.
It was fact.
My legs moved on instinct, brittle and mechanical.
Step.
Zak’s hand hovered just behind my back—steady, bracing. Ready.
Scuzball’s drone remained silent, its hum low and constant.
I didn’t dare look back. Because if I did, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to move forward again.
The soft crunch of gravel shifted beneath me, giving way to cold stone.
We had reached the altar.
The towering wooden arch loomed above us, its dark frame cloaked in deep amethyst and silver fabric that rippled in the cool night breeze. Lanterns flanked the aisle, their flames swaying and casting long, flickering shadows across the clearing. Overhead, the sky stretched wide and endless, a black canvas speckled with distant, watchful stars. The towering pines circled us in silence, their jagged silhouettes unmoving, as though even the forest itself was holding its breath. It should have been beautiful, grounding even, but none of it reached me.
All I could feel was him.
Seated near the front, perfectly still, perfectly composed. Watching.
And beside him—Luna Catherine.
The air around me thinned, every breath shallower than the last. My chest tightened, and though my legs should have carried me forward, they refused to move. It was as if the ground itself had conspired to trap me, locking every muscle in place. I might have stood there forever if not for the steady weight of a hand closing over my shoulder.
My grandfather’s grip wasn’t harsh, but it was firm—solid, anchoring. His presence settled around me, quiet but unshakable.
“Breathe, Cayro.”
His voice, low and controlled, slipped through the noise clawing at the edges of my mind. I tried, but the air caught in my throat, thin and ragged.
“He can’t do a damn thing here,” my grandfather said, his tone softer but no less certain. “Not in front of all these wolves.” His hand tightened slightly, not to hurt but to ground me. “And certainly not with Dr. Zaraki standing nearby.”
I forced myself to blink, dragging my focus back to the altar ahead, though it felt impossibly distant. All I could see was that cold, unblinking stare from the crowd.
“He’s here to rattle you. To make you doubt yourself.” My grandfather’s words slipped into that space where fear had taken hold, steady and unyielding. “Don’t let him.”
My throat burned. The words I wanted to say stuck, fragile and broken.
“I... I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.”
His tone didn’t sharpen in anger; it solidified in certainty.
“You will.”
And for once, it didn’t feel like pressure pushing me down.
It felt like armor being built around me.
I pulled in a breath. Slow, shaky, but whole. It scraped on the way in but settled.
Zak shifted beside me, his voice softer than usual but still carrying that crooked grin. “Come on, man. She’s waiting.”
She’s waiting.
The thought cut through everything else, steady and clear.
I lifted my head.
My father was still there, unmoving, his gaze cold and constant. Watching.
But he wasn’t going to move.
Not here.
Not tonight.
I squared my shoulders, feeling something shift and settle inside me.
“Good.” My grandfather gave a single, deliberate nod, the faintest flicker of pride warming his otherwise stoic face. “Stand tall.”
For the first time, it didn’t feel like an order.
It felt like a shield.
I moved forward, each step easier than the last. The cold air bit at my skin, but the weight in my chest lifted, just enough to breathe. Zak fell into step beside me, sliding effortlessly into his role as best man, the grin on his face quieter but still present. Even Scuzball’s drone drifted a little farther back, its quiet hum steady and distant.
And for the first time tonight, I let myself believe it.
He can’t touch me here.
Not in front of everyone.
Not tonight.
The air around me seemed to settle into a deeper stillness, thicker, heavier. The faint murmurs of the guests faded, swallowed by the creeping quiet that slipped between the trees and pressed in on all sides. It wasn’t oppressive—but it was waiting.
Then it came.
The sound.
Low and deep, barely more than a hum at first, rising slowly from somewhere within the crowd. It moved like a pulse through the air, steady and ancient. Another voice joined it. Then another.
Voices.
Soft but deliberate, weaving together in slow, haunting harmony.
It wasn’t music. Not in any way that belonged to this place.
It was something far older. Something alive.
The werewolves were singing.
But this was no song of joy.
It was heavier than that. Darker.
Their voices rose and fell like the slow roll of distant thunder, each note reverberating through the ground beneath my feet. It coiled up through the stones, threaded between the trees, and slipped into the air itself. The forest seemed to lean in, listening, and the lantern flames swayed higher as if stirred by something unseen.
It wasn’t a melody.
It was a promise.
The sound didn’t comfort. It bound.
The weight of it pressed down, not with malice, but with purpose.
And then the air shifted again.
My eyes were drawn forward as Aura stepped into the aisle, her movements measured and certain. The amethyst fabric of her gown shimmered in the lantern light, trailing behind her like smoke curling through the air.
Then Lyra followed.
Her steps were heavier, more deliberate. The same gown hung awkwardly on her, but there was nothing soft in her stance. The sharpness in her eyes remained, a silent promise of violence if it was needed. She wasn’t there to be admired.
She was there to protect.
Side by side, they stood at the aisle’s entrance, shoulders squared, unyielding.
Not bridesmaids.
Sentinels.
The final defense before a queen.
And then she appeared.
Star.
The breath left my lungs in a slow, aching rush, like the air itself had been stolen from me. Framed by the soft glow of lanterns, she seemed to emerge from the shadows, the darkness behind her falling away as though the night itself had stepped back to make room. The world around her softened, the flickering light wrapping around her like it belonged to her.
Her gown was nothing short of breathtaking—deep amethyst, rich and dark like the sky at twilight, with silver thread woven through the seams, glimmering softly as she moved. The fabric hugged her form before falling into graceful waves that skimmed the stones beneath her feet, each step deliberate and unhurried. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, untamed but effortless, rippling in the cool breeze. And there it was—the lilac strip woven into her hair, subtle yet unmistakable. It wasn’t just decoration; it was a quiet declaration.
Her eyes—sharp and vivid, the color of polished amethyst—found mine and held them.
And I felt her.
Not from a distance, not in some vague or fleeting way. She reached me, her presence slipping beneath my skin, steady and sure, like a quiet hand resting at the edge of my mind.
I’m here.
No words. No sound.
Only that constant, grounding warmth weaving through every frayed part of me, quieting the noise in my head.
At the end of the aisle, Dr. Zaraki stood waiting. His posture was impeccable—shoulders squared, head high—but his expression had shifted. This wasn’t the cold, calculating face of a warrior, nor the unyielding mask of the Master of Death.
It was the face of a father.
And when he extended his arm to her, it wasn’t out of obligation or ceremony. It was careful. Reverent. There was a tenderness in the gesture, as though he was holding something both fragile and unbreakable. Star slipped her hand into his, and he held it with a quiet, protective strength.
Around us, the wolves' voices deepened, folding in on themselves until they became something older, something heavier. The sound didn’t just echo through the air—it claimed it. It wrapped around the trees, curling into the shadows, seeping into the ground beneath us. The trees seemed to lean in, their towering limbs bending ever so slightly, as if they too were listening. The lantern flames flickered higher, burning brighter, reacting to something none of us could see.
And then, Star moved.
One step forward, and the world seemed to shift with her.
The wolves' voices swelled, a slow and steady crescendo, vibrating through the stones beneath my feet and threading into the very air around us. It wasn’t music in any traditional sense—it was older than that. It was a sound that didn’t just fill the space but owned it.
I couldn’t breathe.
Beside me, Zak shifted his weight, but he said nothing. The usual smirk was gone, replaced by something quieter, more grounded. Even Scuzball’s drone hung in the air without a sound, its mechanical hum swallowed by the voices that seemed to press in from all sides.
My grandfather stood still, silent, as if speaking would shatter the fragile spell wrapping around us.
Because this wasn’t a moment for words.
It belonged to her.
And I couldn’t look away.
Every step she took carried a weight that wasn’t hesitation but intention. She moved forward with quiet strength, each footfall drawing her closer, and with it, the world seemed to tilt in her direction.
I didn’t feel fear or doubt—only the profound certainty that this was real.
This was happening.
The space between us shrank, dissolving with every step she took. Her presence wrapped around me, steady and unshaken, a constant in the sea of shifting shadows and sound.
And in that moment, nothing else mattered.
Not the wolves.
Not the guests.
Not even the lingering shadow of my father sitting in the front row.
Only her.
Then, she paused.
The lullaby rose to its peak, holding there for a breathless moment, as if the entire world had gone still, waiting.
And she waited with it.
As if time itself needed another second to catch up.
It was only then I realized I was holding my breath.
And before I could let it go—
She took her next step.