Lahat ng Kabanata ng Married to the disabled Alpha : his antidote : Kabanata 151 - Kabanata 160

QUINNAnd in the air was the shimmer of magic, old and ravenous. It pulled on my skin, slid under my nails, kissed my bones. Vibrating with life of its own, wild, unbroken, as though it had waited all this time for only me.I was in the middle of that. Two equally unwinnable options. The witches murmured softly behind me in words that spun and floated through the air like gossamer thread through linen. Theodore stood before me, watching, his expression unreadable. Beside him, Mother Sareth waited with eyes that were too old to be smile.My hand trembled at my side. Not with fear. With fury.I had been manipulated. Trapped. Trapped, like a Too real for you to escape. Theodore hadn’t brought me here for salvation. He’d never come to repair what we wrecked. He was trying to draw me back to him. Permanently. He was convinced that if he wrapped his request in religious language and connected it to the notion of sacrifice, I would go willingly.But I saw it now. All of it.And I didn’t want

QUINNUnder that, folded in multiple layers of parchment, lay one of the books I’d come across when I started to suspect Theodore of betrayal. The one who talked of the curse in cryptic terms. The one I never did risk opening after that.I put it on the table, hands still.And I began to read.---*The curse, in the original language, was neverending. It had no cure. But it was me who had ended it — unmade the bond that had been holding it up.So what had I missed?I turned one page and then another, decoding even as I read, and then picked out one line, and another, buried midway through a forgotten paragraph.“When the bond is severed, the magic flies—never gone, always seeking.Scatters.Not destroyed.It ensured the power didn’t die with Theodore, or with the bond.It went somewhere.Discovered something — or someone — fresh.I sat back, heart racing.This wasn’t over.---Next morning I encountered Perrin in the practice yard. And he was practicing with the younger wolves, sweat

QUINNI nodded. “And if it’s only the first...”He didn’t need me to finish. His jaw clenched.“We’ve got to alert the outposts,” he said. “If there are any other kids like her —”“There are,” I interrupted, “I know there are.”---We were sending messages by nightfall.Every pack. Every ally. On every side of the witches’ wood the warning was scattered: Look out for signs. Brands. Fever. Language that’s not of our world.And while that, I watched over the girl.She was called Ilyra, I had learned. Once she’d whispered it in her sleep. It sounded, it said, like starlight — flimsy, aged and wayward.That night, hours passed as I sat beside her bed, my fingers touching the runes that etched her skin. I wasn’t trying to wake her. I wanted to understand her.Why her? Why a child?Maybe that was the point.The witches no longer required warriors. They needed vessels. Innocents who would never fight the magic. Who would even know it was in him.Corruption in the name of inheritance.”And wh

QUINNAt dawn I awoke and put on black.I made my way across the room and Perrin groaned as I stirred. His hair was disheveled, his jaw rough with stubble, his eyes red-rimmed. Yet still, his influence held firm. Warm. The only place that felt safe to me any longer.He blinked at my outfit. “Where are you going?”“To the archives,” I said. “I have to find out what it was Theodore was trying to make. What this bloodline means. If there’s anything that can help me keep this child safe and alive… I need answers.Perrin sat up, frowning. “Then I’m coming with you.”I shook my head. “You must be with the council. The unfortified east border is unwatched since the attack. I can handle this.”He appeared as though he might argue, but his eyes fell to my stomach. He hesitated.And nodded. “Be careful.”I kissed his cheek, and slipped out before I had second thoughts.---The archives were ancient.A library beneath the castle, locked behind door after door woven with spells. It could only be

QUINN“Then you must decide,” said the first. “Power. Or protection.”“I choose both,” I whispered. “I have to.”---It was near dark when I got back to the castle.And I brought magic with me.Partly because of the fact that they were not spells or words - - but a living power woven into the very walls of our fortress. Sigils etched into the Stones of the Bone, wards scribed in unseen bloodlines. I had more than guidance - the witches had given me weapons.The trap was ready.We didn’t have to wait long.By midnight, the sky had still not turned its velvet blue, much less its star-shot black, but everyone, it seemed, took it as a benediction: if not stars, then signs. Runes flared into being in the clouds as shining scars, then the air tore open before the footprint of the cathedral ruins, just like I had intended.Theodore swaggered out like he owned the night.But this time, I was ready.We were sitting on the steps of the cathedral. Just the two of us.No armies. No allies. No mas