MIRABEL’S INNER CONFLICT

The walls felt smaller than before. Mirabel sat in the dimly lit chamber, her hands were curled into fists on the cold wooden table before her. The room which was once her sanctuary, now felt like a cage.

The weight of what had happened and what was still happening settled heavily on her chest. She had seen the shift in her warriors’ eyes, the hesitation, the subtle glances toward her mother. It was as if, with one brutal act, the foundation of her rule had cracked.

She should have felt anger and fury burning inside her, but instead, there was something worse gnawing at her insides. She was beginning to have doubts.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the goblet of wine beside her. The moment she noticed the shake, she stopped. She shook her head as if trying to wake up from a slumber, no, weakness was something she could not afford at the slightest chance.

She forced her grip to tighten, lifting the cup to her lips, but the bitterness of the drink did nothing to settle her mind.

“It was Eudora.” She murmured.

It had to be her. Mirabel knew her mother too well, she had been with her long enough to know how she operated and the way she planted seeds and watered them just enough for others to believe the ideas were their own.

The attack on Garron wasn’t just about sending a message to the pack, it was a message to Mirabel herself. Your grip is slipping and your reign is fragile. Mirabel clenched her jaw. No. She would not be a pawn in her mother’s game.

Without another thought, she stood and called for the guards outside her chamber. “Summon Eudora,” she ordered, her voice was sharp enough to cut through the stone corridors. “Now.”

The guards hesitated, stunned and scared for their lives for a moment before hurrying away. Mirabel turned back toward the table, exhaling sharply. By the time Eudora arrived, Mirabel was ready.

The door opened with a slow, deliberate creak. Eudora entered the chamber like a shadow slipping into the room, silent, composed, untouched by the chaos that had unsettled everyone else.

“Summoning me at this hour, honey?” Eudora murmured, amusement lacing her voice. “How urgent could this be that it couldn't wait till morning, and you couldn't come to your mother, you had to call me instead.” Mirabel didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“You knew about it, in fact, you were behind it, weren't you?”

Eudora raised an elegant brow. “Knew what, child, what are you talking about?”

Mirabel stepped forward, closing the distance between them, her tone became sharper this time. “Don’t play games with me, Mother; you were behind Garron’s death and the way the warriors hesitated before following my command; that was also your doing.”

Eudora sighed as if burdened by the accusation. “You wound me, Mirabel.” She took a slow, measured step toward the table, trailing her fingers along its polished surface. “Must I be the villain in every misfortune that befalls you?”

Mirabel’s nails dug into her palms. “I know how you operate.”

“And yet,” Eudora mused, tilting her head, “you still find yourself blindsided.” A slow, knowing smile curled her lips. Mirabel’s blood boiled.

“So you admit it?” she pressed, her voice was low with simmering rage.

“I admit nothing,” Eudora said smoothly, then shrugged. “But let’s say if I had known something, what then? What would you do about it?” The question hung in the air like a challenge. Mirabel’s pulse thundered in her ears. Eudora was mocking and testing her.

“You seem to forget something here, Mother.” Mirabel took a step closer, her voice laced with steel. “I am the Luna of this pack, not you.”

Eudora turned to look at her with amusement or perhaps annoyance. It was impossible to tell her exact expression. For the first time since the conversation began, Mirabel saw the faintest crack in her mother’s perfectly composed mask. But it lasted only a second.

Eudora sighed, shaking her head. “Oh, Mirabel,” she murmured, almost pityingly. “Is that what you tell yourself before you sleep?”

Mirabel’s fists clenched. “I can strip you of your influence; you are only powerful because of me because I allow it.” Eudora let out a cold and sharp laughter. The sound sliced through the room like a blade.

“You allow it?” she echoed as if the very notion was absurd. Mirabel felt something shift in the air. A chill seeped into her bones, it was unnatural.

Then Eudora’s gaze darkened, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“You were never meant to sit on that throne alone, child and if you keep this up…” She leaned in just slightly, just enough for Mirabel to feel the spirit of her breath against her ear.

“You won’t be sitting on it at all.” Mirabel’s breath caught, the words didn’t sound like a threat. They sounded like a prophecy. For a moment, Mirabel stood frozen.

Then, Eudora turned as if to leave, but paused at the door, glancing over her shoulder one last time. “You should rest, my dear,” she said smoothly. “You look… tired.”

Mirabel refused to flinch, she refused to show weakness, but the moment Eudora stepped out of the room, a strange sensation slithered through her body. Her breath came shorter and the room tilted. Something was wrong.

She reached for the edge of the table, gripping it to steady herself, but the floor beneath her felt like shifting sand. Her vision blurred for a moment, and her limbs were tingling with a dull numbness.

Did she just…? No, that wasn’t possible.

Eudora hadn’t spoken a spell, she hadn’t even moved a hand to cast anything and yet the moment her mother had left, something inside her felt off. Mirabel forced herself to breathe, to fight through the unnatural weakness gripping her.

Outside, Eudora’s footsteps faded into the distance. But before she disappeared completely, Mirabel heard a soft whisper so faint, she almost thought she imagined it.

“Time to fix my mistake.”

Mirabel struggled to find her balance, slowly and steadily, she dragged herself to the bed. Her mind was full of tension; her mother had just cast a spell on her; how much farther was she willing to go for this? Should she concede to what her mother wants, or side with Kaelen and allow him to lead as it should?

Then a thought formed in her mind.