Page 40 of Wolf Proclaimed

Looking around, I saw the shadow of doubt receding from their eyes, replaced with understanding. Luna's convincing explanation had calmed the stormy seas, at least for now. It reminded us how much we still had to navigate in this utopia we were building and how every crack and question brought us closer to the truth—or what we believe was our collective truth.

Days had melted into weeks in our newfound paradise, each one slipping away seamlessly into the next. Bastian was by my side, his presence an unwavering rock amidst the sea of our shared duties. We were mid-conversation, standing amidst a grassy clearing, when Theon and Dmitri approached us, their faces reflecting an uncharacteristic seriousness.

"Bastian, Mira," Dmitri began, his gaze darting between us, "We've heard something disturbing while we were helping to build the new tavern."

A cold trickle of unease wound its way down my spine. "What's going on?" I asked, my eyes meeting Bastian's for a fleeting second.

Theon cleared his throat, his usual cheer replaced by a solemn expression. "It's about the women from your old pack, Bastian," he said, "They've been talking to Jezebel and telling her about how Mira used to give them basket weaving lessons and want to start where they left off."

I blinked, surprise washing over me. I remembered giving the weaving lessons, but the specifics, like trying to grasp smoke with bare hands, escaped me. "I... I don't know! I just... "

Before I could respond further, Jezebel joined us, her gaze hardening on me. "Why don't you remember, Mira?" she asked, her voice holding an edge.

I faltered, the weight of her question pulling me down. But before I could drown, a familiar voice rang out. Gretel had been nearby, her observant eyes taking in the scene.

"Ladies," she intervened, her voice the calm before the storm, "Perhaps you're mistaken. Mira's been too occupied with her duties as an alpha's mate. Some memories may have slipped her mind."

I found myself nodding in agreement, though my heart pounded an ominous rhythm in my chest. I did remember the lessons... didn't I?

In the silence that followed, under the concerned gazes of those I loved, the bitter truth dawned on me. Gretel's prediction was materializing—the magic was splintering, the cracks in our utopia widening. And I had no idea how to mend them.

Later that evening, Bastian and I found solace within the shared sanctuary of our bed. His familiar and soothing warmth cocooned me from the world's harsh realities. Our whispered secrets of the day had died to silence as sleep began to beckon me into its peaceful abyss.

Just as my eyes were about to surrender to slumber, a shimmering silver glow filled our quarters. There, projected at the foot of our bed, was Gretel, an ethereal figure in the dim light. Her radiant eyes were replaced by a dull weariness that chilled me to the core.

"Mira." Her voice was like a ghostly whisper carried by the wind. Her gaze, intense and haunting, held me captive as she spoke. "I've been using my magic to maintain the illusion."

My breath hitched as her words seeped in, cold and stark. The reality of Gretel's struggle was a weight pressing down on my chest. "It's taking its toll on me," she confessed. Her words were like shards of ice piercing the still night air.

The room spun as I took in her frail appearance, her spectral presence a pale imitation of the powerful witch she once was. I instinctively reached for Bastian's hand, gripping it tight as the shockwave of Gretel's revelation hit us both. His eyes were wide open, his gaze firmly locked on the fading figure of Gretel.

As abruptly as she appeared, Gretel vanished, leaving a chilling warning in the room. I found myself clinging to Bastian, the silence in her wake oppressive and foreboding.

A sense of urgency took hold when I realized Gretel hadn't emerged from her seclusion in the forest for days. "You have to find Luna, Mira," Bastian urged, his voice grim. "We need to find your mother before it's too late."

When Gretel's spectral figure disappeared, Bastian and I were out of bed. The moon's glow spilled through our open window, casting a ghostly pallor over everything. We shifted, letting our wolves take over, our heightened senses cutting through the darkness that enshrouded Magic Mountain.

With Bastian by my side, we raced to Luna's cabin. The journey seemed to stretch forever, my heart pounding in sync with the rapid drumming of my paws against the forest floor. Luna, caught off guard by our sudden arrival, soon understood the severity of the situation from the urgency in our eyes and the agitation in our stance.

"Vision... Gretel... drained," I managed to articulate between haggard breaths. Luna's eyes widened, reflecting the moon's stark light, understanding blooming within them.

Without wasting a moment, we shifted again. The transformation was as familiar as our heartbeat, yet it felt jarring under our growing anxiety. We shot off into the wilderness together, racing against time to reach Gretel.

We found her in the old cave she used to inhabit. The scene within was one I'll never forget. Gretel was sprawled on the cold floor, her body almost lifeless. The powerful witch we knew was now a frail shadow, reduced to a weak flicker, pushed to her very limits.

Her desperate words echoed hauntingly in the hollowness of the cave, reverberating within my skull, "It's taking its toll on me."

The realization struck me with a force of a thunderbolt. The magic had started to fracture; Gretel was at her breaking point trying to hold things together, her vitality nearly exhausted. The world I had so carefully constructed, our utopian existence, was on the precipice of shattering into a million pieces.

We were on the brink of collapse.

Chapter Nineteen

The Price of Peace

Mira

The air was thick with disorientation, akin to a sudden fog that blurred all within its reach. Gretel, my mother, now back in the only place she'd ever called home, found herself lost amidst the intensifying haze of her witchcraft, exhausted. Her eyes, usually so lively, now held a vacant look. The fallout from the abrupt loss of her magical control was wearing on her, evident in her body's tense slump against mine.

---