Page 18 of Wolf Proclaimed

Bastian

Mira was lying motionless on the cold stone floor of the infirmary, usually radiant with a ferocious vitality, but now nothing more than a shadow of her vibrant self. An ethereal cloak of magic, distinctly bearing her mother's signature, enveloped her. “You never did know when to back down, Mira," I muttered to her inert form, my voice echoing around the quiet room.

It was a room shrouded with the aftermath of her unbridled rampage.

On the outside, the unity and discipline that our pack thrived on were replaced with disarray. The remnants of structures lay shattered, a silent testament to Mira's raw, unchecked power. Whispers of confusion and uncertainty breezed through the pack members, their faces etched with anxiety.

A low growl rumbled in my throat as I observed the chaos. "We are a pack. We'll weather this storm...together," I affirmed, despite the gnawing uncertainty in my gut.

Running a hand through my hair, weariness seeped into me. "How did we get here?" I asked the silent night. My voice choked with unshed emotion. Mira, the vibrant, fiery woman I loved, was now subdued, tangled in her own identity crisis. A wolf tethered to the world of witchcraft. The cosmic irony wasn't lost on me.

Surveying the scene around me felt like living in a nightmare. My breath hitched as I saw our ruined home, my shell-shocked pack, and the woman I loved lying unconscious before me.

I looked up at the moon, its cold light filtering through the broken walls. "This isn't over. It's far from over," I vowed, my voice unwavering. The moon stared back, offering neither condolence nor solution. And I was left in the middle of the havoc, bracing for the storm yet to come.

The door creaked open, disturbing the oppressive silence. I turned my gaze from Mira to the newcomer. Gretel stood at the doorway, her usual confident demeanor masked by layers of concern and fatigue.

"Bastian," she sighed, her voice barely above a whisper. She entered the room, her steps faltering slightly, the burden of her decision weighing her down. I saw her handshake ever so barely as she knelt beside her daughter.

"We need to talk," she started, her gaze lingering on Mira's face. "About her," she added, her voice wavering.

I nodded, steeling myself for what was to come. "I know, Gretel," I replied, my voice thick with anticipation. "It's clear she can't go on like this."

A shadow crossed Gretel's face. "There's a way," she began, her voice suddenly filled with resignation and resolution. "To save her, to end what's pulling her apart."

A knot formed in my stomach. "And what's that?" I asked.

She took a deep breath, gripping her daughter's hand tighter. "We must eliminate one of her natures," she said, her eyes never leaving Mira.

"What?" I gasped, feeling my world tilt on its axis. "Is... is that even possible?"

"Yes," she replied, her voice steely. "But once it's done, there's no going back."

"No, going back," I echoed, the reality of her words sinking in. She was proposing to take a piece of Mira away forever. "And if we don't...?"

Her gaze met mine, and the desperation there chilled me to my core. "She'll self-destruct, Bastian," she said, her voice breaking. "Her opposing witch and wolf sides... they're pulling her apart."

I felt like drowning, gasping for air in a sea of impossibilities. "I... I don't know what to do, Gretel," I admitted the words tasting like defeat. "I don't want to take anything away from her."

Silence filled the room, punctuated only by the shallow breaths of the woman lying between us. And there we were, caught in the eye of the storm, the weight of the world bearing down on us. All the while, the woman we loved lay oblivious, her life hanging in the balance.

I felt every beat of my heart was mirroring the fear and uncertainty that had taken hold of me. The thought of removing a part of Mira, the woman I loved with all my being, sent a cold shiver down my spine. I looked at her again, watching her chest rise and fall in a rhythm that felt like my last connection to sanity.

"I can't, Gretel," I said, barely a whisper, echoing the room's silence. "I can't just... choose to remove a piece of her. That's not our decision to make."

"But it is, Bastian," Gretel responded, her voice heavy with a feeling of sorrow that mirrored my own. "If we don't make this decision, Mira won't survive. She's tearing herself apart."

I ran a hand through my hair, the enormity of the situation threatening to crush me. "But who are we to decide? How do we know which nature to remove? This could change her forever, Gretel. She may never be the same."

Gretel sighed, her gaze never leaving her daughter. "I know, Bastian," she replied, her voice soft. "And it terrifies me, too. But we don't have a choice."

I felt a knot in my stomach. "I love her, Gretel," I confessed, my voice shaky. "I love every part of her. I love her strength, her courage. I love her as a wolf and as a witch. And the thought of taking any of that away... It feels like I'd be taking away a part of her soul."

Silence filled the room again, my words hanging in the air, amplifying the gravity of the situation. I could see the conflict in Gretel's eyes—the mother who wanted to protect her child and the leader who had to make the hard decisions. The question was, which nature would we choose to eliminate, and how would that choice define the rest of Mira's life?

Escaping the infirmary's dense pall, I sought Theon and Dmitri's solace. They were Mira's closest friends and, for a time, her lovers. An unspoken pact of understanding entwined us, each loving Mira in distinct ways. I found them in the communal area, quietly nursing their drinks, their faces mirroring the weighty gloom that had settled over the pack.

"Theon, Dmitri," I began, my voice rougher than I would have liked. I drew up a chair and sank into its familiar comfort. "We need to discuss Mira."

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