Alora’s POV I stirred at the soft sound of my name, a voice so gentle and ethereal it seemed to be made of silk. I thought I was still dreaming. My eyelids feel heavy, but I forced them open, blinking against the dim light of the room. There is this taste in my mouth that is making me want to throw up but I couldn’t. My stomach is empty. And then I saw them. Two women, standing silently by my bedside. One had hair like liquid silver, cascading down her shoulders in soft waves, her skin pale as moonlight. The other had hair the color of fire, rich and blazing, more beautiful than I could ever imagine. I knew who they were. I had seen them before… my dreams. I don’t need no introductions to know they were witches. Very powerful ones. My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I tried to push myself up, but my body was weak, sluggish. The women smiled at me, their faces soft and full of understanding. Then, they did something unexpected: they raised their hands in some sort
Alora’s POV I clutched my baby against my chest as we moved swiftly through the darkened woods, following the two witches ahead of me. Eirlys’s silver hair shimmered in the moonlight as she led the way, her steps confident, her presence calming. Beside her, Morrigan's fiery red hair seemed to glow in the dim light, her fierce eyes glancing back at me every few moments to ensure I was keeping up. They seem like they want to carry me but know I won’t appreciate that. The cool night air brushed against my skin, but all I could focus on was the faint pulse of my daughter, her small body so fragile against mine. Each breath she took was a whisper of life, and I held her tighter, feeling the fear coil in my chest. "We’re almost there," Eirlys said softly, her voice soothing in the tense silence. I nodded, though the exhaustion was starting to pull at my limbs. I hadn’t stopped moving since I agreed to leave the pack behind, the place that had become a prison of pain and betrayal. A
Alora’s POVThe soft sound of footsteps woke me, barely a whisper on the polished floor. I blinked, trying to clear the fog of exhaustion from my mind, and when I opened my eyes, a figure stood at the entrance to the room. It was the healer. She was tall and regal, her long black hair cascading down her back in thick waves. She moved gracefully toward me, her presence commanding but gentle. Her eyes, a striking shade of violet, held an ancient wisdom, and as she approached, I noticed the same look of reverence that Morrigan and Eirlys had shown earlier.Without saying a word, the healer bowed deeply, her hands folded before her as though acknowledging my position and the power of my bloodline. I watched her with heavy eyes, still dazed from everything that had happened. She stood silently for a moment before rising again, her gaze soft but assessing. Her eyes flicked to my exhausted form, and she stepped forward, reaching out as if to tend to me first. "Let me heal you, my queen,"
Alora’s POVA week had passed, and I was no longer the shattered shell of the woman I had once been. My strength had returned, more powerful than ever before. It was as if this ancient castle—the one hidden deep within the enchanted woods—had breathed new life into me. I could feel it in my veins, a pulse of energy that I had never known existed, coursing through me like wildfire. Every corner of this place whispered to me, filling me with magic, with purpose. The walls were old, yet they held secrets, ancient power, and for the first time in my life, I felt as if I belonged. This place, this coven, was my sanctuary. My true home.Nevaeh lay in my arms, cooing softly, her small hand curling around one of my fingers. My heart swelled as I looked down at her, the innocence in her dark eyes so pure it ached. But those eyes, they weren’t mine. They were his. Rune’s. And every time I looked at her, I saw him staring back at me. The same jet-black hair, those stormy eyes that once held
Rune’s POVIt had been seven days. Seven days without Alora. Seven days since the witches had taken her, and it felt like my entire world had collapsed in on itself. I didn’t recognize myself anymore. I was a fucking wreck. I had shut myself in my room, locked the door, and refused to let anyone inside. Not Jacob, not Ethan, not even the damn servants. No one was allowed to see me like this. To see the way I had fallen apart. I couldn’t let them see me this weak, this vulnerable. An Alpha was never supposed to look like this. Never supposed to feel like this. But I did. I had never been sick in my life—never had so much as a cold. My body had always been strong, unbreakable, just like my mind. But now… Now, I was sick as fuck. My body felt foreign, weighed down with an exhaustion that dragged at my bones, my muscles aching as though I had fought a hundred battles without rest. My head throbbed constantly, a dull, agonizing pain that wouldn’t let up, and my chest felt tight, like
Alora’s POV The air in the ancient castle was thick with anticipation, magic simmering in every shadowed corner. I could feel the weight of it on my skin as I stepped out of the room they had given me, finally ready to confront Eirlys and Morrighan. For days now, they had been treading carefully around me, whispering among themselves but never saying what was truly on their minds. They feared me and I could feel it. Eirlys and Morrigan sat at the long dining table, a meal spread out before us. They had prepared a feast, likely in an attempt to soften what they were about to say. These two witches were powerful, there was no denying that, but they were careful with me. I could feel them holding back, waiting for my permission to speak freely. Then why? I sat down at the head of the table, as was fitting. I wasn't the same Alora they'd found broken and battered; I was someone new. The castle had done something to me, made me stronger, sharper. “What do you want?” I asked, m
Third Person POV The tension in the Alpha’s study was suffocating. Rune stood before his parents and the pack elders, his expression stone-cold, a mask of indifference he had mastered over the years. His father, the former Alpha, sat at the head of the table, eyeing Rune with suspicion."The witches have become more of a threat than we realized," his father began, his voice gruff. "They’ve taken Alora and her child—"Rune’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t let the surge of panic show. He had spent the last week locked away, drowning in an illness that had never touched him before. His body, usually unbreakable, was betraying him. His mind felt like it was on fire, his thoughts consumed by Alora and the baby. The sickness gnawed at him, an ache that wasn’t just physical. This is so stupid and if he were in his right mind, he would have hated himself. And it was because she was gone.His heart squeezed painfully, but he pushed it down. No one could know. No one could ever know how much h
Rune’s POV The war room buzzed with an intensity I hadn’t felt in months. The heavy oak table in front of me was covered in maps, reports, and battle strategies, everything a good Alpha should focus on. But all I could think about was her. Alora. The witches. The child she had taken from me. I could barely sit still. My chest felt tight, my vision narrowing on the images swirling in my head. She had wanted to leave me. She had chosen them. I slammed my fist down on the table, silencing the Beta mid-sentence. A crack split the wood beneath my hand, but I didn’t care. I think I’m losing it slowly but surely. It has never been this bad. “Focus,” I growled. “What are we doing about the rogue attacks?” Jacob cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to keep the meeting from derailing further. “The patrols are doubled, Alpha. But it’s not the rogues that are the problem anymore.” His gaze shifted to Ethan, who shifted nervously under my glare. “There’s…talk, Rune.” I narrowed my eyes