Chapter 72: Chapter 72 – The Warning She Needed Too Late

Chapter 72 – The Warning She Needed Too Late

Liora’s POV

By the time training ended, my entire body felt wrong.

Not weak exactly. Weakness was easier to understand. This felt deeper than that, like my body had stopped cooperating with me fully and neither of us knew how to fix it anymore. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

Mira had finally forced the session to end after I nearly reopened the wound on my arm trying to continue through it. She didn’t argue this time or lecture me about resting. She just looked at me for a long moment with the same uneasy expression she had been wearing more often lately, then told me to go before I collapsed in front of her.

I left without saying much.

The corridors were quieter than usual as I made my way back through the fortress, but I barely noticed them. My mind stayed fixed on one thing.

If I got hurt badly now... I would die.

The thought followed me heavily, refusing to loosen its grip no matter how many times I tried pushing it aside. Before, there had always been a part of me that believed I could survive anything as long as I endured long enough to heal from it afterward.

Now I wasn’t even sure my body remembered how to save itself anymore.

I flexed my fingers slightly as I walked, feeling the dull ache running through my arm where the injury from training still lingered beneath the bandages. The wound should have been gone already. Even without fully healing it, my body normally reacted faster than this.

But this time it hadn’t.

It tried.

Then it stopped.

That terrified me more than the pain itself.

Because if my own body was starting to fail halfway through healing—

Then what happened when something worse came?

The thought tightened my chest enough that I slowed slightly, pressing a hand against the cold stone wall beside me for balance.

I still hadn’t awakened a wolf.

That truth had become harder to ignore lately. Everyone around me kept speaking about awakening like it was inevitable, like it was simply waiting for the right moment, the right trigger, the right amount of pressure.

But what if it never happened?

Or worse—

What if it happened too late?

My throat tightened at the thought.

Pregnant. Hunted. Unstable. Carrying abilities I barely understood while my body slowly turned unpredictable beneath them.

Nothing about this felt normal anymore.

And lately, there had been something else too.

A pull.

Not physical. Not exactly.

But persistent enough that I couldn’t ignore it.

The last time I felt anything close to this was when the hidden chamber called to me, when those strange visions dragged me toward truths buried beneath Blackmoor long before I understood what I was even searching for.

This felt similar.

But different enough to unsettle me.

It wasn’t leading me downward this time.

It was leading me somewhere else.

I slowed again, frowning slightly as the sensation sharpened unexpectedly beneath my ribs. My steps paused instinctively.

There.

The pull shifted again.

Quiet.

Steady.

Intentional.

Like someone waiting.

I looked down the empty corridor ahead of me, my heartbeat slowing slightly as I tried to understand why the feeling suddenly became stronger here. This part of the fortress was older and rarely used except by servants and guards changing patrol routes.

No one important came here.

At least that was what I thought until the feeling tightened again.

I swallowed slowly.

Then I followed it.

The deeper I moved into the older section of the fortress, the more uneasy I became. Dust gathered thicker along the edges of the walls here. The torches burned lower. Even the air felt different somehow, quieter in a way that made every sound of my footsteps stand out more than they should have.

I should have turned back.

A smarter person probably would have.

But curiosity had already ruined too many things for me to suddenly stop listening to it now.

The pull finally settled near one of the abandoned courtyard passages hidden behind the western halls. I stopped near the archway slowly, my eyes scanning the empty space ahead of me.

At first, I saw nothing.

Then movement shifted near the far wall.

A woman stepped partially from the shadows.

Every instinct in me reacted immediately.

Not fear.

Recognition.

My breathing slowed as I stared at her carefully.

She looked older than me by several years, though not old enough to match the stories surrounding the dead wives. Dark hair framed a face sharper than I expected, and there was something tired about her eyes that stood out immediately, like exhaustion had settled into them permanently long ago.

But that wasn’t what made me still.

It was the feeling around her.

Familiar.

Wrong.

My fingers curled slightly at my side.

She noticed.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn’t follow it," she said quietly.

Her voice caught me off guard.

Calm. Controlled.

Not threatening.

"Who are you?" I asked immediately.

For a second, something unreadable crossed her face before she answered.

"My name is Amelia."

The air left my lungs before I could stop it.

Amelia.

The fourth wife.

Dead.

At least that was what everyone believed.

I stared at her harder now, my mind trying to catch up with what I was seeing while the memory of the vision from weeks ago rose sharply in my head. The pendant. The blood. The woman kneeling.

Her.

"You’re supposed to be dead," I said carefully.

"I was supposed to stay dead," she corrected softly.

Silence settled between us after that.

I didn’t move closer.

Didn’t trust her enough for that.

But I also didn’t leave.

Because deep down, I already knew this wasn’t random.

She studied me quietly for a moment before her gaze dropped briefly toward my arm where the bandages sat beneath my sleeve.

"You’ve started training," she said.

It wasn’t a question.

I stiffened slightly. "How do you know that?"

"Because I know what happens when your body begins rejecting the healing."

My heartbeat slowed painfully.

She noticed that too.

Something in her expression softened slightly, though it wasn’t pity exactly. It looked closer to recognition.

"You’re already running out of time," she said quietly.

The words hit harder than they should have.

I forced myself to stay steady. "What are you talking about?"

Amelia looked around briefly before stepping farther into the courtyard where the weak torchlight finally reached her fully. Up close, she looked worse somehow.

Not physically weak.

Scarred.

Faint pale marks disappeared beneath the collar of her clothing and along the edge of her wrists like old burns that never healed properly.

My stomach tightened immediately.

She saw me notice.

"Yes," she said softly. "You recognize them."

I couldn’t speak for a second.

Because they looked too familiar.

Too close to mine.

"You’re like me," I whispered before I could stop myself.

A humorless smile touched her face briefly.

"No," she said. "I failed long before I became anything like you."

The answer only confused me more.

"What does that mean?"

For a moment, she said nothing, and I realized she was deciding how much to tell me.

Finally, she exhaled quietly.

"The wives before you weren’t chosen randomly," she said. "None of us were."

A cold feeling spread slowly through my chest.

"I know about the wives," I said carefully. "I know something happened to them."

"You know the version they allow people to know," Amelia replied. "What you don’t know is why we were chosen in the first place."

My jaw tightened slightly.

"And why was that?"

Her gaze held mine directly now.

"Because Seraphina was searching for the White Wolf."

The words landed heavily between us.

Not shocking.

Not anymore.

Just real in a way I could no longer avoid.

"She believed traces of it survived through certain bloodlines," Amelia continued quietly. "Weak traces. Incomplete ones. Enough to test. Enough to use."

A sick feeling settled deeper in my stomach.

"And the wives?" I asked.

"She tested them too."

I swallowed hard.

Suddenly the scars on Amelia’s skin made far more sense than I wanted them to.

"She thought awakening could be forced," Amelia said. "Pain. Mating bonds. Pregnancy. Near death. Emotional trauma. She kept trying different methods hoping one of us would survive the process fully."

My chest tightened.

"How many?"

Amelia looked away briefly.

"Twelve before you."

I felt sick.

"And you?" I asked quietly.

For the first time, something cracked slightly in her expression.

"I carried the traits," she admitted softly. "Enough for my body to react. Enough for the healing to begin."

Her fingers brushed lightly over the scars near her wrist unconsciously.

"But I never awakened fully."

I stared at her silently.

"That’s why you survived," I realized slowly.

Her eyes lifted back to mine.

"No," she said. "I survived because I ran before it finished killing me."

The honesty in her voice unsettled me more than if she had lied.

I thought about the scars spreading across my own body every time I healed someone. The instability. The exhaustion. The way my healing had begun stopping halfway recently.

Amelia saw the realization forming on my face.

"She didn’t tell you the truth about the scars, did she?" she asked quietly.

I didn’t answer.

I didn’t need to.

"She won’t," Amelia continued. "Because if you understood what they really mean, you would stop using your power completely."

A slow tension climbed my spine.

"What do they mean?"

Her gaze hardened slightly.

"It means your body is burning through itself trying to force an awakening it hasn’t survived yet."

My breathing stopped briefly.

"The healing isn’t free, Liora. It never was. Every time you use it, your body compensates by consuming something deeper to maintain the balance."

The courtyard suddenly felt colder.

"And when it runs out?" I asked quietly.

Amelia held my gaze.

"You die."

The words should have shocked me more.

But deep down, part of me already knew.

I just didn’t realize how close I might already be.

My hand moved unconsciously toward my stomach.

Amelia noticed immediately.

Her expression shifted slightly after that.

"You’re pregnant," she said softly.

I stiffened. "How do you know that?"

"Because that changes everything."

That wasn’t an answer.

Before I could press further, she stepped closer carefully, lowering her voice.

"Listen to me carefully, Liora. Awakening too late is just as dangerous as never awakening at all."

A chill moved through me.

"What does that mean?"

"It means your body is already trying to choose between survival and transformation," Amelia said quietly. "And pregnancy complicates both."

I stared at her.

The pull beneath my ribs tightened painfully now.

"What happens if it can’t?" I asked.

Amelia looked at me silently for a long second before answering.

"The body breaks."

The words settled heavily between us.

I suddenly understood why she looked at me with something close to desperation since the moment I arrived.

Because she wasn’t warning me about the future.

She was warning me about something already happening.

My throat tightened slightly. "You said you failed," I said quietly. "So why are you helping me?"

For the first time, genuine emotion crossed her face.

"Because nobody warned me," she admitted softly. "And by the time I understood what they were doing to us, it was already too late."

Silence stretched between us again.

Then Amelia’s expression hardened slightly like she had remembered something important.

"There’s something else," she said.

I frowned.

"What?"

Her eyes fixed directly on mine.

"You think you have two chances left because your healing hasn’t fully consumed you yet."

A cold feeling settled instantly in my chest.

"But that isn’t how it works," she continued quietly.

My heartbeat slowed.

"What do you mean?"

Amelia’s gaze dropped briefly toward the scars hidden beneath my sleeves before returning to my face again.

"You don’t have two chances left, Liora," she said softly.

The pause afterward felt unbearable.

Then she finished quietly.

"You have far less than you think."