All Chapters of Alejandro's Human Antidote : Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

Zenith’s POVThe dawn was fragile when we returned to Plot Thirteen, the first light spilling faintly across the basin. Mist lingered low, silvering the runes etched into the stone markers. I felt the land’s pulse beneath my feet, steady, patient, and curious, but never demanding. It knew something profound was about to unfold.Alejandro’s presence was constant at my side, grounding. His hand brushed mine, just once, but enough to remind me of the tether between us. Inferno stirred beneath my awareness through the mate bond, warm and coiled, a thread of certainty weaving through my spine. Seraphine arrived, soft as a shadow, her energy slicing through the morning air like purpose incarnate. Eldric followed, deliberate as always, the faint scent of ink and ash clinging to him like a signature.“This is it,” I whispered, more to myself than to anyone else. “The next step.” Seraphine’s gaze swept over the basin, lingering on the barrels arranged carefully in a circle. “It will listen,” s

Zenith’s POVAs dawn struck, I was already at Plot Thirteen. The mist still lingered, clinging to the basin and the freshly aligned vessels, their sigils faintly glowing with the residual pulse of the previous night. I stepped carefully, Alejandro at my side, his presence grounding me in the quiet hum of anticipation. I felt Inferno stir through our mate bond, not urgent, not impatient, just watching, steady and warm, like a heartbeat threaded through my spine.Seraphine arrived silently, as though she had grown from the forest itself. Eldric followed, methodical, his eyes scanning the vessels with that same piercing calculation he always wore. I could feel the land itself leaning closer, attentive to our intentions, waiting for the next step.“This is the phase that will define the bloodcraft,” I murmured, more to myself than anyone else. “If we falter here, it will echo in everything that follows.”Seraphine crouche

Alejandro’s POVValerius left me with silence. Cassian gave me none. “Stand up,” he said cheerfully, the word carrying like a thrown blade across the training grounds.I had barely stepped out of the ring when his voice followed me, bright with anticipation. My muscles were still trembling from Valerius’s lesson, my bones intact, my pride less so. Inferno remained coiled beneath my ribs, watchful now in a different way. Less wary of attack. More wary of corruption.Cassian had not moved from his pillar. He didn’t need to. “You look like a man who thinks he’s learned something,” he continued. “That’s dangerous.”I straightened anyway, rolling my shoulders, testing the aches Valerius had left behind. Nothing broken. Nothing spared. “What do you teach?” I asked. Cassian’s grin widened, sharp and unapologetic. “Honesty.”He pushed off the pillar and walked into the ring with the lazy confidence of a predator who had never known urgency. Where Valerius had felt like inevitability, Cassian

Alejandro’s POV Eldric did not summon a ring. He did not clear space or draw a boundary or warn anyone to step back. That should have terrified me. Instead, it focused me. The others watched from a distance, Valerius silent as a carved monument, Cassian restless and sharp-eyed, Seraphine unreadable, Zenith standing where she always did now: close enough to anchor me without interfering. Inferno stirred low and steady, no longer coiled for combat but alert and observant. Eldric planted his staff into the earth once. The sound was dull. Unremarkable but reality locked. I felt it immediately, not pressure, not weight, but finality. The air no longer bent. Time did not stretch. Distance became absolute. Every instinct that relied on momentum, speed, or improvisation simply… failed to activate. I tried to step forward. My body refused. Not paralysis. Authorization denied. “You feel it,” Eldric said calmly. His voice carried no malice, no triumph. “Good. Most never do. They mistake ine

Alejandro’s POV The first thing I learned after Ragnar’s training was that power does not leave when the lesson ends. Its effect lingers. Not in the dramatic way, no flames crawling beneath my skin, no bending of air or stone. It lingered like a bruise under muscle. Like cold held too long in the bones. Ragnar had called it remembered weather. The body recalling a storm even after the sky clears. I felt it as I walked the inner corridors of the Haven of Shadows. The villa no longer reacted to me the way it had during Inferno’s emergence. No hum in the beams. No thickening of space. That part was done. What remained was subtler and, somehow, heavier. People felt me before they saw me. Conversations thinned. Footsteps slowed. Even the walls, ancient stone laid with intention, seemed to listen. Ragnar had warned me about that too. When the wild accepts you, he had said, voice like ice over deep water, everything that lives will decide whether to approach or give you space. Both are