All Chapters of Alejandro's Human Antidote : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

ZenithThe wind is different up here. It feels sharper and a tad bit more honest. It bites my cheeks as I move through the thinning trees, Alejandro trailing behind me in silence. He has not spoken much since Inferno relayed the message, only told me what I needed to know. Koa is wounded with Silver and wolfsbane. His wounds are deep and the deadly combination as slowed down his healing.I did not hesitate. In fact, I could not afford to. The moment I heard, something ancient inside me stirred and stood up. Not just guilt or urgency, something deeper. More of a silent call. And now, under this low, silver-lit sky, I follow that call.We reach the clearing minutes later. Koa’s scent hits me first, pine and sweat, laced with something burnt. My stomach tightens. Then I see him, leaned back against a tree, his shirt torn and his chest smeared with blood. His jaw is clenched, but his breathing is uneven.When his eyes find mine, he stiffens. “You shouldn’t be here,” he growls. I step for

Zenith’s POVThe new cabin smells like cedar and rain. There is a softness to it now, like the place had been holding its breath for years and finally....finally, exhaled. Alejandro has not said much about the renovations, but that is how he is. Quiet, watchful, always moving mountains behind the scenes and pretending it’s nothing. But this? This is not nothing.The porch creaks gently beneath my feet as I step out, the sun still low enough to paint the trees in sleepy gold. Plot Thirteen hums under my skin. It always does now. Something about this land remembers me… or maybe remembers my grandmother and just assumes I will do.I turn slowly, taking it all in. The greenhouse, still being reinforced with panes of magic-treated glass, has started to gather life. Tiny pots of rosemary, marigold, mugwort. Some of the herbs I dreamt about are already here, as if they had waited for me to remember them. I kneel by a tray of feverfew, fingers brushing its leaves, and smile.He did this. Alej

AlejandroI leave her in the arms of morning. Wrapped in one of my shirts, barefoot in the greenhouse, she does not even notice when I slip past the front gate, because her hands are already deep in soil, whispering to herbs I have never heard of before yesterday. Zenith is blooming. And I will not be the one to slow her down.Not when she looked at me last night with eyes full of fire and said, “I want to stand beside you. Not behind you." Not when she handed me a folded list of rare herbs, her fingers trembling. Not when she whispered, “Start in California. The Emberroot... grows only where the forest remembers fire.”So here I am in Redwood National Park. Following ancient coordinates written in her grandmother’s handwriting. The first of five. “Heartwood Emberroot,” Inferno mutters inside me. “Rare. Sacred. Once used by moon priestesses to stabilize a healer’s core during awakening. But dangerous to retrieve. The forest tests the one who seeks it.” Perfect. Exactly the kind of nig

Koa's POV The night feels like forewarning. There are no stars tonight. Just a swollen moon overhead, caught in a net of black branches. The mountains hum beneath my feet, the way old things do when something sacred is stirring. I have known that sound since I was a pup. And now, I know its name: Zenith. She walks through this world like she does not belong to it. Too soft, too luminous, too... good. But she does belong here. Because the earth bends toward her when she moves, the wind listens, and the herbs bloom for her. She does not know what she is yet. Not completely. But I do. And I am supposed to guard her. It is not the kind of order a man like me is used to obeying. I do not take well to being told what to do. But when Alejandro asked, no, entrusted me, I bowed my head and said yes. Because I have watched him grow from a half-starved exile to something more. Not just a wolf. Not just a warrior. The Crownless. The one they thought would die in the wild. The one the earth reme

Alejandro’s POVThe Smokies are beautiful in the way a storm is beautiful, majestic, distant, and full of warning. The air here carries a tension that lives beneath the skin, vibrating in the bones. Every step forward feels like entering a dream that could turn to nightmare in a breath. I am soaked through before I even reach the valley.Thunder rumbles across the peaks. Inferno has not uttered a word to me in hours. That alone is enough to make me wary. The silence is not peace, it’s preparation. This place does not welcome outsiders. Especially not Crownless ones.The herb I seek, is called Mireblossom and it grows in the heart of a swamp carved into the spine of the mountain range. It blooms only during magical storms, feeding off raw energy. And right now, the storm is more than weather. It feels alive, more magical, even.The wind lashes at me, almost angry. On the other hand, rain pelts my face sideways. Lightning dances along the ridgelines in colors lightning should not wear.