Page 41 of Wolf Proclaimed

“This is all my fault!” I sniffed.

Gretel's slender form trembled under the onslaught of surging memories, replacing her customary vivacious spirit with a disquieting fragility. Witnessing her in this state was a sharp contrast to her usual self, and it stirred a potent mix of frustration and helplessness within me, causing my fists to clench involuntarily.

Beside me, Bastian, tall and as immovable as an oak, wore a look of grim determination. His concern was evident in his rigid posture, his gaze darting back and forth from Gretel to Luna to me, his fingers curled around Gretel's arm, lending her his strength.

"We need to get her home," I stated, trying to keep the worry out of my voice. The reality of the situation hung heavy in my heart. My family was falling apart, the harmony we'd managed to build was crumbling, and our future was as uncertain as a leaf in a storm.

Bastian nodded, the line of his jaw tense as he silently agreed. With a deft maneuver, he swept Gretel into his arms, her body limp in his embrace. I saw the ghost of fear pass over his face as he cradled her, but he masked it quickly with a determined set to his features. And Luna held a cup of water to Gretel's lips, but she refused to drink.

As we carried Gretel through the silent village, the cool shroud of night blanketed everything in inky blackness. The houses stood like silent guardians. Their windows were shuttered and dark, the inhabitants nestled within, blissfully unaware of the tumultuous events unfolding. It was a blessing in disguise—the darkness of the night acted as our veil of secrecy, and the stillness reassured us, despite the storm brewing within each of us.

The paths we often traversed in the daytime, now under the moon's watchful gaze, felt different—more daunting yet strangely comforting. Our lithe footsteps were hushed, the only sign of life in the otherwise ghostly silent village. We exchanged no words, focusing instead on helping Gretel and keeping our unsettling emotions in check.

Finally, we reached Gretel's newly constructed cabin, a humble abode that blended into the shadows of the surrounding woodland. The familiar structure, bathed in moonglow, was a beacon of solace amidst our spiraling world. We helped Gretel inside, knowing we were crossing uncharted territory yet finding peace in the quiet isolation the night offered.

As Luna shut the cabin door behind us, a sense of trepidation crept in—the darkness outside had helped us remain hidden for now, but we knew dawn would soon arrive and, with it, the harsh reality of our situation.

The sudden disruption of Gretel's magic was like a sonic boom that tore through the night. As we each reeled from the shock, the words escaped from Gretel's lips almost as an echo, barely audible over the din of our thoughts. "I...I can't hold it," she murmured, her voice fragile, a ghost of its usual robust tenor.

I felt her lean against me, trembling, the weight of her frailty a stark contrast to the woman I knew. "Mother," I whispered, gripping her hand tightly in a futile attempt to anchor her, to anchor all of us. "Stay with us."

Her response was a hollow laugh, tinged with a bitterness I'd never heard from her. "If only it were that simple, Mira."

Hearing the boom of the spell breaking to pieces, my sisters joined us. They struggled with their sudden influx of memories, their faces a stark canvas of confusion, fear, and growing hostility. Luna, amid the chaos, attempted to take control. "Everyone, calm down!" she called out, her voice struggling to rise above the pandemonium.

But her call fell on deaf ears. Instead of assuaging the rising tensions, it seemed to ignite them. A chorus of accusations and denials began to fill the air, my sisters turning on Luna and each other, their words laced with the sting of old wounds and betrayals.

Amidst the rising discord, I locked eyes with Bastian, his gaze as lost and frightened as I felt. "We have to do something," I urged him, my voice thick with desperation.

He ran a hand through his hair, his usual calm demeanor replaced by visible stress. "But what, Mira?" he asked, his voice a low, desperate rasp. "What can we possibly do to stop this?"

I looked at him, my sisters, and then back at Gretel, her state triggering a thought in my mind. A desperate, horrifying thought. "I don't know," I murmured, my heart pounding with distress.

As the internal chaos within us grew louder, the stillness of the village was ruptured. Despite the dark cloak of the night, it was as if our internal war had set off an alarm, stirring the once-serene settlement from its slumber.

Shifters, our friends and allies who had only recently begun to savor the taste of peace, started emerging from their dwellings, their faces illuminated by the dim moonlight. Confusion etched on their faces, their eyes flicked between each of us, their minds undoubtedly grappling with the sudden disruption of tranquility.

The initial relief of our return was quickly replaced by a sense of unease that seeped into the quiet night air, matching the disarray that was beginning to churn within me. I could feel the weight of their gaze, heavy with concern and an undercurrent of fear, as they stood at a distance, watching the scene unfold.

Gretel was like a fallen goddess. Her magic drained, and her power depleted. The same power that had held my spell together was seemingly about to tear us apart, the irony of it not lost on me. It was like a cold hand wrapping around my heart, squeezing the hope out of it.

"I should have listened...." I shook my head in shame.

"Your idea was noble. It just hasn't worked out..." Ever the rock, Bastian stood by my side, his grip on my hand a comforting presence amidst the tumult. He, too, was watching the shifters, their worry mirroring his own.

Their unity, recently celebrated with joyous roars and laughter, now hung by a fragile thread, threatened by the very individuals who had once promised to uphold it. We had been the harbingers of peace and were potentially the architects of a renewed war.

Gretel's inability to provide aid in this time of crisis was a stark and harsh reality that was felt not just by my sisters and me but our packs as well—a distinct chill spread through us, a ripple effect of the vacuum her depleted magic left behind. I saw men shifting on their feet, faces marred with uncertainty, eyes darting between us, the once formidable sisters, now more like ticking time bombs.

In the face of Gretel's powerlessness, I saw our mother, Luna, step forward. Even amidst the chaos, Luna had a way of emanating a sense of calm. Her silver hair glowed in the moonlight. Her blue eyes held a determination that I could only aspire to. Luna was now trying to reclaim her once alpha status that she had gently set aside for the peace of the pack, if only to prevent a disaster.

"I am your alpha," she declared, her voice ringing in the night air. There was a moment of silence as her words hung between us, a fragile attempt at maintaining a semblance of order. It was a desperate move to discourage us from turning against each other.

But the surge of memories and the swell of emotions were all too overwhelming, and her attempt at asserting authority fell on deaf ears. I could feel the same resistance in my sisters that I felt within myself. Luna's plea for unity seemed to backfire as suspicion and animosity, fueled by resurfacing memories, reignited in our hearts. Instead of bringing us together, her declaration seemed to spur us further apart.

It was heartbreaking watching my sister's mother and the woman who had raised me, once the indisputable leader, struggle to hold onto a pack on the verge of splintering. And worst of all, it was her daughters who were the cause.

Luna's words hung heavily in the air as a bell’s toll, but its discordant note reverberated through the silence. "I am your alpha," she had declared, with a confidence that should've settled it, that should've brought order back to chaos. But instead of falling into place, we bristled.

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