Eila stopped just outside the infirmary gates. Her breath hitched, her heartbeat hammering against her ribs like war drums. She was afraid—more than she had been facing down the rogue beasts or even the monstrous Entity. This was a different kind of fear, the kind that paralyzed the soul.
She stepped in slowly, her bare feet echoing faintly on the smooth stone floor. A hushed stillness blanketed the room, broken only by the shallow breathing and soft groans of the wounded. The glow of the moonlight filtering in through the high-arched windows cast the infirmary in an eerie silver hue. Her eyes scanned every bed, searching—pleading—for something familiar, something that wouldn't confirm her worst fears.
And then she saw them.
Tucked away at the very end of the hall, in two beds beside one another, were the figures that anchored her very existence. Her breath caught in her throat. It was them—her mother and father. Barely recognizable beneath layers of bandages, bloodied cloth, and bruised skin.
Her legs gave out beneath her, and she sank to her knees between the beds. Her fingers trembled as she reached toward them, only to pull back when she saw the way their chests rose and fell in weak, irregular rhythms. Their faces, so often filled with love and warmth, were distorted by pain.
A sound escaped her lips—a raw, broken sob—and she buried her face in her hands. The pain, the helplessness, it all came crashing down on her. The strong front she'd held up for days cracked open, and she wept, her shoulders shaking as the grief poured out in silence.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours.
When her tears finally ran dry, she pulled herself to her feet, swaying slightly. Wiping her face with trembling hands, she knelt again and summoned her healing powers. The familiar warmth filled her palms as she reached out—but the moment her magic touched the edge of their bodies, it recoiled.
A thick, black foam bubbled from beneath their skin, crackling with malevolent energy. It slithered over their wounds like a living thing, blocking her healing like a wall of tar. She tried again. And again. Her frustration mounted with each failed attempt.
"No," she whispered, "No, please—"
"Eila."
A warm hand settled on her shoulder.
She turned quickly, startled, to find Nina standing behind her, her expression solemn. Leonard stood just beyond, his jaw clenched tight, pain flashing behind his eyes as he took in the sight before him.
Nina gently took Eila's hands in hers, pulling her away from the beds with a gentleness that refused argument. Together, they walked into the clear, dimly lit hallway beyond the infirmary. Eila's heart thudded against her ribs as she waited for answers she wasn't sure she wanted to hear.
"That… substance around them," Nina said softly, "is not something I've seen in centuries. It's a curse. Black magic, laced with something far older. It's designed to block not only werewolf healing but all forms of restorative power. I tried… and failed."
Eila blinked, trying to make sense of it. "How is that possible? You said you're the strongest witch in this region—"
Nina gave a weary smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I said our magic is strong. I didn't say it was infallible. This spell was cast by something ancient… something tied to those Entities you fought. And it wasn't just your parents."
"Luna?" Eila asked quickly, her breath catching.
Nina hesitated, then nodded. "Luna's case was mild. She is slowly healing, though the process is slow and painful. But others… others didn't survive. Too many succumbed before we could even attempt to reverse it."
Eila closed her eyes, her fists clenching at her sides. Rage, helplessness, and determination all surged at once.
"I'm not going to stand by and let this happen," she said through gritted teeth. "I will find a way. I don't care what it takes. I'll tear through every realm of magic if I have to."
Leonard stepped forward then, his hand brushing hers, steadying her with just his presence. "We'll help you," he said simply.
Eila met his eyes, then looked toward the end of the corridor. Her mates. Her parents. Her pack.
She turned to Nina and Leonard, nodded slowly, and then murmured her goodbyes. "I need to go home," she said. "My siblings are waiting… and I need to protect what's left. This will never happen again. Not to them."
They didn't stop her.
As she stepped out into the night, the moonlight caught in her hair, and the shadows at her feet whispered something only she could hear.
A promise of a war and a storm yet to come.