Chapter 126 You Will Hate Me For This
Mira gripped Fernando’s arm and hauled him to his feet. He swayed, blood still seeping from the wound in his chest, but he stayed upright through sheer will.
“Easy,” Mira said. “Lean on me if you have to.”
Fernando shook his head, voice rough. “I’m fine. Just… tell me I’m not dying.”
Mira met his eyes. “You are. Slowly. That silver dagger was laced with poison. The only thing keeping you alive right now is the mate bond with Alberto. It’s burning through your reserves to hold you together.”
Fernando’s jaw clenched. “Then we need to find him. Fast.”
One of Mira’s students, a young witch named Elara approached, wiping blood from her hands. “Can’t we cure it? There has to be something.”
Mira shook her head. “Only Enigma blood can neutralize this toxin. Alberto’s blood. And he’s nowhere to be found.”
Fernando exhaled sharply. “Then patch me up. The war’s not over. I’m not leaving my pack to die because of me.”
Mira studied him for a long second. “You’re stubborn. Fine. Sit.”
She guided him to a low crate nearby. Her other students were already moving among the wounded wolves, applying salves and bandages, murmuring healing incantations.
Mira turned to the group. “All of you head to the western gates. Guard them. No breaches. Seal every weak point. I’ll stay here and help the soldiers hold the line.”
The students nodded and scattered.
Mira waited until they were out of earshot, then leaned close to her second-in-command, a tall, quiet man named Rowan.
“Rowan,” she said under her breath. “Poison Fernando. Secretly. Before you leave.”
Rowan’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Serpent breath flower,” Mira continued, voice low and steady. “Just enough to counteract the silver toxin. It’s the only thing that can buy him time until we find Alberto.”
Rowan glanced at Fernando, who was pressing a cloth to his chest, breathing shallow. “The serpent's breath will paralyze his wolf. Maybe forever. You know that.”
Mira’s expression didn’t waver. “That’s why I said do it in secret. He can’t know. If he fights it, the poison wins faster. If his wolf shuts down… at least he lives long enough to find his mate.”
Rowan’s throat worked. “You’re asking me to cripple our alpha.”
“I’m asking you to save him,” Mira corrected. “Do it now. Before the toxin spreads any further.”
Rowan hesitated, then nodded once, grim. “As you command.”
He slipped a small pouch from his belt, crushed a single dried flower between his fingers, and mixed the fine powder into a flask of water. He walked over to Fernando casually.
“Here,” Rowan said, offering the flask. “Drink. It’ll help with the pain.”
Fernando took it without question, too exhausted to be suspicious. He drained half in one swallow, grimacing at the bitter taste.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
Rowan stepped back, face carefully blank. “Rest if you can, Alpha.”
Fernando wiped his mouth. “No rest. Not until Alberto’s back. Not until every last Southern Ember is dead or gone.”
Mira watched him for a moment, then turned to Rowan. “Go. Guard the gates.”
Rowan gave a tight nod and left.
Fernando tried to stand again, swaying. “We need to search for Alberto. Darius too. They’re connected, I know it.”
Mira placed a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. “We will. But you’re no good to him dead. Sit. Let the others handle the perimeter for now.”
Fernando sank back down, breathing hard. “If I lose him…”
“You won’t,” Mira said quietly. “Not while I’m still breathing.”
She glanced toward the western gates where her students had disappeared.
“And not while the serpent breath is working its way through you.”
Fernando didn’t hear the last part. His head was already drooping, the first faint numbness creeping into his limbs as the hidden poison began its counterstrike against the silver toxin.
Mira watched him a moment longer, expression unreadable.
Then she turned back to the wounded and kept working.
Mira moved quickly among the remaining wounded wolves, pressing salves into gashes, wrapping bandages, and murmuring low instructions to her students. When the last soldier had been stabilized, she wiped her hands on her trousers and turned toward the crate where Fernando sat slumped, eyes half-lidded from the creeping numbness.
She knelt in front of him, pulling a small syringe from her belt pouch. The pale green liquid inside caught the dim light.
Fernando lifted his head slowly. “What’s that?”
“Something to keep the poison from spreading faster,” Mira said, voice steady. She didn’t meet his eyes as she uncapped the needle. “Hold still.”
He didn’t resist. She found a vein in his arm and pressed the plunger. The serpent breath flower extract slid into his bloodstream.
Fernando exhaled sharply. “Feels… colder.”
Mira capped the syringe and tucked it away. She leaned close, voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry, Fernando.”
He frowned, already struggling to focus. “For what?”
She stood without answering, brushing off her knees. “Rest. Don’t fight it.”
Fernando tried to push himself up. “Mira, wait—”
But his limbs wouldn’t cooperate. His head lolled back against the crate as the paralysis began to settle deeper.
Mira turned away and strode toward the cluster of uninjured wolves gathered near the western gate. They straightened when they saw her approach, exhaustion and adrenaline still sharp on their faces.
She stopped in front of them, voice carrying clear and firm.
“Listen carefully. The alpha is down. The toxin from the silver dagger is winning. Kael is dead. Lucia has vanished likely taken by her curse. Darius is missing. Alberto is missing. That leaves me in authority until one of them returns or the alpha recovers.”
A murmur rippled through the group.
One soldier stepped forward. “You’re taking command?”
“I already have,” Mira said. “Any objections?”
Silence. Then, one by one, the wolves dropped to one knee, heads bowed.
“We follow you,” the soldier said.
The rest echoed him. “We follow.”
Mira nodded once. “Good. Stand up. We don’t have time for the ceremony.”
They rose.
She reached into a leather satchel at her hip and began handing out small sealed pouches each labeled in her precise handwriting.
“These are powdered nightshade blooms,” she said, pressing the first pouch into a soldier’s hand. “Dust your blades. One nick and the Southern Embers will drop in seconds. Next is the wolfsbane pollen. Scatter it in choke points. It won’t kill them outright, but it’ll burn their lungs and slow their shifts.”
She moved down the line, distributing more.
“Serpent’s tongue extract liquid form. Coat your arrows. Hemlock dust for traps mix with dirt and cover shallow pits. They step in, it seeps through their paws, paralyzes the limbs.”
A younger wolf took the pouch hesitantly. “Won’t this hurt our own if we step wrong?”
“Which is why you mark every trap,” Mira replied. “Use red cloth strips tie them high on branches or stakes. Everyone memorizes the pattern. No mistakes.”
Another soldier asked, “How long until they hit us again?”
“Soon,” Mira said. “They withdrew to regroup, not retreat. When they come, they’ll come harder. We hold the western gate. No one gets through.”
The wolves nodded, faces hardening with purpose.
Mira looked at each of them in turn. “You protect the pack. You protect your alpha even if he can’t protect himself right now. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” they answered in unison.
She gave a sharp nod. “Then move. Set the traps. Coat your weapons. Eyes open. If you see anything, anything sounds the alarm. We don’t wait for them to strike first.”
The soldiers scattered to their tasks, pouches clutched tightly.
Mira watched them go for a moment, then turned back toward Fernando. He was slumped now, breathing shallow, eyes closed. The serpent breath had taken hold fully his wolf silent, body locked in temporary paralysis.
She walked over and crouched beside him again.
“You’ll hate me for this,” she murmured. “But you’ll live long enough to hate me properly. And when Alberto comes back, you’ll thank me.”
She brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, then stood.
The night stretched ahead, tense and waiting.
Mira squared her shoulders and started toward the gate to oversee the preparations.