Chapter 62: Chapter Sixty-two

Chapter 62

Elena’s POV

The chamber doors closed again with that hollow sound that always made my chest tighten. The scrape of chairs followed, muffled but distinct through the thick wood. Another meeting. Another gathering of the elders without Edgar. Without the Alpha.

I sat where I always did, just outside, pretending not to notice the way the guards exchanged glances. They didn’t speak, but their silence spoke enough. They had grown used to it, the way Edgar was pushed aside, the way his name became an absence in places where it once had been the center.

I clenched my hands in my lap until the skin burned from pressure. Once, I had believed the council would stand beside him no matter what. Now, it felt as though they were circling like vultures, waiting for his strength to falter for good.

Inside those walls, they whispered about succession, about leadership, about the “future of Duskwood.” Outside, I listened to the air grow colder each day. Edgar failed to rise to his full height again.

He was improving, the worst behind him, but the weakness clung like fog. Some mornings he could barely stand. Some nights he woke up shaking, drenched in sweat, his breaths shallow. He did not complain. He never did. But I saw. Gods, I saw.

And I carried it. The weight of watching a man like him stripped bare by frailty, of watching pride war with body, of watching his shoulders bend where once they towered.

The elders did not see that. Or maybe they did and chose to ignore it. Their eyes were set on power, on the question of who might take his place should his weakness consume him. I could feel it in their hurried steps, in the clipped way they dismissed me when I passed them in corridors.

I hated them for it.

But I hated myself more for sitting quietly while they met behind doors that should have been open to him.

The hours passed like slow poison. I moved from corridor to courtyard, restless, never able to sit still for long. Every shadow reminded me of him. Every torch flicker felt like the shallow rhythm of his breathing. I kept remembering the days when his presence filled the whole manor, when even the air felt sharper because of him. Now, the silence was louder than his absence.

At night, I lay awake listening for sounds from his chambers. A cough. A shift of weight. The thud of a fall. Too often I found myself at his door, pressing my ear against it, forcing myself to step away before I woke him with my worry.

Elena, the strong one. Elena, the reliable one. That was what people saw. But inside, I was a storm of helplessness.

The curse was gone, but poison lingered in another form, inside the court, in the council’s whispers, in the slow erosion of faith. And I was powerless to stop it.

Some nights I went to the cliffs, the same place Edgar once favored, and stood with the wind howling against my face. I thought about calling the goddess myself. Demanding answers. Demanding justice. But the heavens had been too silent lately, and I feared if I begged, no answer would come.

So I returned each morning, put on the mask of composure, and stayed near him. Sometimes he lets me. Sometimes he pushed me away with that quiet, stubborn dignity. I never argued. He deserved that much, at least.

The manor had grown darker these days. Not with shadow, but with mood. Servants moved quietly, avoiding his chambers unless summoned. Warriors trained harder in the yards, their strikes harsher, as though preparing for a future they would not name. Children stopped playing near the halls, sensing the tension their parents tried to hide.

And me? I became a ghost moving among them. Watching. Listening. Pretending I could hold everything together when I was splintering inside.

Everywhere I turned, I felt the same thing: waiting. The whole pack was waiting. For him to rise. For him to fall. For fate to make the decision none of us could voice aloud.

I hated the waiting most of all.

One evening, I entered his chamber while he slept. Moonlight spilled across his face, painting sharp lines of a man still strong, still fierce, even in weakness. His chest rose and fell unevenly, but there was still fight in it. Always fight.

I sat beside him, silent. My hand hovered above his, not daring to touch. I wanted to tell him I would never let them replace him, never let them strip away what he was born to be. But the words stuck like thorns in my throat. What good were promises from someone too powerless to make them true?

So I sat. And I watched. And I carried my silence like a stone.

When dawn broke, I left before he woke. My footsteps down the hall echoed louder than my heart.

The council met again that day. Another closed door. Another hollow sound.

I did not linger outside this time. Instead, I went to the courtyard, staring at the training grounds. The warriors sparred fiercely, blades clashing, sweat flying. None of them looked toward the manor. None of them looked toward the Alpha’s chamber.

It was as though they too had begun to move on.

And I could not bear it.

I turned away, retreating to the solitude of the cliffs once more. The sea stretched endless, the wind carrying salt and cold. My heart screamed into it, words swallowed before they reached my lips.

Why him? Why always him? Hadn’t he given enough? Hadn’t he bled enough? Hadn’t he carried every weight the goddess laid upon him?

And I was alone with my fury, my grief, my helplessness.

The waves crashed below, relentless. I envied them. They knew no hesitation. They broke, they surged, they reformed. They did not wait, did not tremble.

I stayed until the cold sank into my bones, then forced myself back to the manor.

Another night. Another round of listening for his breaths. Another silent vigil outside a door that should have been open to me.

I wondered if he knew how much I watched him. How much I guarded what little of him the council could not take.

I wondered if he would thank me. Or curse me for hovering like a shadow.

The days blurred. Each one a mirror of the last. The same meetings without him. The same whispers. The same silence stretching between all of us who once called ourselves a family.

But I refused to break. Even if the council cast him aside, even if the warriors forgot his name, even if the goddess hersef remained silent, i would not.

He was my Alpha.

And as long as breath lingered in his chest, I would remain his shield in ways no one else dared.