Dimension W Mira Novels & Stories

What if the pack rejects her and the baby? Wanda snaps out of her thoughts at the sound of Mira’s voice. Mira is one of the pack maids. She is in charge of the laundry and occasional outfits of every member of the house. Despite her miniature frame, she is in her mid-forties and has gathered enough experience in laundry matters. She has a commandeering voice that makes her subordinates get things done at the snap of her fingers. She is arriving from the Pack Laundry house when she sees Petra and Wanda in the garden. Petra is plaiting Wanda’s hair into cornrows. The former had insisted, even though Wanda did not feel up to it. However, now that she is holding a mirror and can see what Petra i

**The Globe's Message** Mira sat in the dimly lit room, the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the sheer curtains, casting gentle, golden shadows that danced lazily across the walls. She was perched anxiously on the edge of a plush armchair, its fabric soft and inviting, yet now more uncomfortable than ever as she absorbed the sight of her daughter, Aria. There, on the bed, Aria lay motionless, her face serene yet ghostly pale, a stark contrast to the vibrant colors of the quilt beneath her. Her dark hair spread across the pillow like a shadowy halo, framing her delicate features, and Mira’s heart ached with worry, a tidal wave of anxiety crashing inside her chest.

I watch intently as his fingers fly over the keys. "Okay. There it is. According to our hackers, your Mira's location for the past one year has been…" his voice trails off and his brows furrow. Something's not right. " Where is she, Damon?" I ask through gritted teeth. He looks up at me. " Las Vegas. Mira lives in Wemp Creek, Las Vegas." It feels like I have just been dealt a serious blow to the guts. I edge back a step, refusing to believe my ears.

As if the broken, wolfless girl she'd been caring for had just revealed herself to be something else entirely. And maybe I had. Mira stood frozen against the wall, her back pressed to the stone as if it could anchor her to something familiar in a world that had suddenly shifted beneath her feet. Her wide eyes remained locked on me, studying every detail of my face like she was trying to solve a puzzle that had been placed before her without warning. Those eyes—intelligent, observant, too knowing for her station—tracked every tremor that ran through my frame, every shallow breath that hitched in my throat.

Behind her came two younger healers, a woman with kind eyes named Lena and a man with quick hands called Theo. "Move aside," Mira ordered, her voice sharp with authority. "Give me space to work." Aria stepped back, but she didn't let go of my hand. I held on to her, using her warmth as an anchor against the cold spreading through me. Mira's fingers worked at the arrow, examining it without pulling. Her face went pale. "This isn't a normal arrow," she said quietly. "It's been dipped in something. Silver and... something else. Something dark."

“This is not witch-born.” Lightning split the sky above the ruins—not the crackling violet fury that had accompanied Dorian’s awakening years ago, but a clean, pale bolt that lingered too long, bathing the broken cathedral in sterile, unforgiving brilliance. The witches cowered. A third witch crawled forward on hands and knees, eyes glassy with terror. “Mira has fallen,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Her line has snapped. The magic we held through her… It’s gone.” Silence descended, thick as grave dirt.

“My men saw a woman in Blood Fang Pack’s market this morning. Looked just like Miss Mira, with the same dark hair and small frame. And she was pregnant and it’s been more than three months.” I shot to my feet with the chair scraping loud against the stone, my heart slamming in my chest. “Mira?” A loud growl escaped my throat, my heart pounding crazily. “You’re sure it was her? Describe her, Dexter. Every detail… her height, her walk, the way she moved. Was she alone? Speak!”

she continued, her tone dropping just slightly, “maybe the wedding should be postponed… until we understand what’s really going on with her.” For a second. I considered it. Only for a second. Then- A scream tore through the room. “Ahhh—!” Mira. I turned instantly. She was clutching her chest, her other hand digging into her stomach, her body arching slightly as if something inside her was pulling violently. Her breathing was erratic. Her eyes wide. Terrified. “It’s coming—!” she cried out, her voice shaking. “It’s coming…!” My heart slammed hard against my chest.

Mira stood there in an oversized sweater and loose shorts, her dark hair tied into a messy bun. Her eyes widened the moment she saw me. “Oh my God,” she breathed. “Aria?” Then she noticed who was holding me and her entire posture straightened immediately. “Alpha Damon,” she said quickly, stepping aside and opening the door wider. “Please, come in.” Damon nodded once and walked inside. “What happened?” Mira asked, shutting the door behind us as she hurried over. Her eyes darted to my wrist, which was already swelling badly. “Oh Goddess,” she whispered.

Aria’s POV Mira finished her examination but didn’t speak immediately. She took longer than usual putting her tools back into her bag, like she was organizing her thoughts before she said anything. That alone made me watch her more carefully. Damon was still beside me, his attention fixed on her. “Report,” he said again, his voice steady but firm. Mira nodded once, professional as always, but there was a slight hesitation before she spoke. “She is physically weak at the moment,” she said carefully. “Most likely due to stress, lack of proper rest, and emotional strain.”