Chapter 178 Chapter 178

Chapter 178 Chapter 178
Mira’s POV

The further my carriage pulled away from Blackwood, the quieter the world became.

It was unsettling.

No royal guards. No castle bells ringing in the distance. No comforting weight of my mates’ presence beside me.

Just me… and the road.

We crossed the final border of Blackwood territory by noon, and I instructed the driver—an older man with no interest in conversation—to stop near a lake nestled between two low hills.

The air here was fresher, tinged with the scent of pine and wildflowers. The lake’s surface was smooth as glass, reflecting the pale blue sky like a painting. I stepped down from the carriage slowly, careful not to twist my ankle on the uneven grass.

I clutched the parchment tightly in one hand.

This was where I would try again.

This was where I would call to them—the witches.

I knelt by the water’s edge, pulling out the small pouch of incense the High Priestess had given me back at the shrine. My fingers trembled as I lit the tip, the flame licking upward before settling into a soft stream of fragrant smoke.

I closed my eyes and unrolled the parchment.

The words were faded, written in looping script. My mother’s words. A chant passed down from the Last Witches—the key to finding them, to awakening the power they claimed I had buried within me.

I took a deep breath.

And began.

“En’dara wehil, nostrine vahl… fen’dalla kythar in’shae. E’laren mor du’kai, vessen shyr halem…”

The words rolled off my tongue—strange, heavy. Ancient.

I repeated them.

Again. And again.

Nothing!

The smoke swirled lazily in the wind. The water rippled from a passing breeze. A fly buzzed around my face and I swatted it away in irritation.

Still, nothing.

I gritted my teeth and read the chant again.

“En’dara wehil, nostrine vahl…”

Still no change.

No magical shift.

No sudden vision.

I let out a frustrated growl, slapping the parchment onto my lap.

Was I doing it wrong?

The High Priestess had said the incense and the chant would open the path. That I’d feel something. But all I felt was agitation, and the constant buzzing of insects against my skin.

“Dammit,” I whispered, swatting another fly.

Why wasn’t it working?

Was I not witch enough? Was my mother’s blood too weak in my veins?

Or worse… was it all just a hallucination? A lie?

I pressed my palms into my eyes and sighed.

Then I remembered Lucian’s face the last time I saw him—peaceful, finally resting. I remembered Rowan’s stubbornness, Damien’s quiet pride, Kai’s gentle strength.

I had made them all a promise.

I would find a way to help Lucian.

I would learn the truth of who I was.

And I would come back stronger.

“No more doubting,” I whispered to myself.

I shifted into a seated position, legs crossed beneath me, parchment on my lap, incense burning steadily at my side. I inhaled deeply through my nose and tried again—not with anger, not with desperation—but with clarity.

“Focus, Mira…”

This time, I let the words slip from my lips slowly, like a song whispered across time.

“En’dara wehil, nostrine vahl… fen’dalla kythar in’shae…”

With each syllable, I shut out the flies, the wind, the world.

By the fifth repetition, I felt it.

A tug.

Not physical. Not like the mate bond that once connected me to my kings. Not like the steady hum of the moon goddess either. No, this was… different.

Older. Wilder. Deeper.

It curled into my chest like a vine growing around a tree trunk—slow, firm, and deliberate.

I gasped as a sensation prickled down my spine.

Then, I stood.

My body moved on instinct, drawn not by sight but by that inner pull. I climbed back into the carriage, startling the driver.

“Keep going,” I told him, pointing eastward.

He looked confused. “There’s no main road that way.”

“Doesn’t matter. Just follow the bend along the ridge.”

He gave a short nod and flicked the reins.

We moved.

And I followed the pull.

The sun began to set by the time we reached the base of a rocky outcrop—a jagged stretch of wilderness far from any known settlement. The last village we’d passed had been hours ago, and there hadn’t been another soul in sight since.

“I’ll stop here,” I said, tapping on the driver’s bench.

He looked around, wary. “It’s not safe at night. Bandits roam these hills.”

“I know.”

I paid him in full, plus extra, and watched as he turned his cart and disappeared into the distance.

I was alone now.

Truly alone.

I set up a small camp by the edge of a rocky alcove. Nothing elaborate—just my cloak spread over a flat patch of earth and a pack under my head as a pillow. I didn’t light a fire. The heat from the day hadn’t fully vanished yet, and I didn’t want to draw attention in case anything—or anyone—was nearby.

The silence here was different.

Heavy.

It made my heartbeat feel too loud.

Still, exhaustion clung to me like a second skin. The emotional weight of the day, the spellwork, the isolation—it all pressed on my shoulders like a stone.

I lay down and stared at the darkening sky.

The stars blinked slowly into view.

I closed my eyes—and drifted.

The dream came sharp and sudden.

I was younger.

Ten, maybe.

I stood in a dense field near the estate, holding a crude wooden bow with trembling fingers. My father loomed behind me, arms crossed, expression hard.

“Wrong,” he snapped. “Your form is wrong. Your grip is weak.”

“I’m trying—”

“Trying?” He laughed bitterly. “Trying doesn’t kill a deer. Or a threat.”

I flinched as he grabbed my elbow and yanked me into a different stance.

“Do it again.”

I aimed. Released.

The arrow landed in the dirt.

Useless.

He stormed forward, grabbed it, and tossed it back at my feet. “You’re worthless,” he spat. “A worthless little hag pretending to be useful.”

That word—hag—cut deeper than I could ever describe.

I turned away in shame, hiding tears I didn’t want him to see.

I woke up with a gasp.

The stars above were still bright.

The night wind had grown colder.

I sat up quickly, heart pounding in my chest.

Something had woken me.

A sound.

I scanned the dark terrain around me.

Silence.

But I knew what I’d heard—twigs snapping. A shuffle in the dirt.

I rose slowly, hand near my belt where I kept a small blade. Every muscle in my body tensed.

“Hello?” I whispered.

No answer.

The wind blew, rustling a patch of dry weeds nearby.

But nothing emerged.

My instincts screamed at me to stay alert, but after several long minutes passed with no movement, I finally relaxed my grip on the knife.

Probably an animal.

Or the wind. Or my nerves.

I lay back down, curling under the cloak, this time with one eye open.

Sleep came slower now.

But it came.