Rejected by my cursed mate

Untitled Episode5

Daria's POV

I had been running for five days.

Five days of stumbling through endless trees, with thorns tearing at my skin and roots trying to trip me with every turn. Five days of nothing but berries I prayed weren't poisonous and water I scooped from muddy streams with trembling hands.

But I kept moving because stopping meant dying. And I refused to let my baby die in these woods.

On the fifth night, I couldn't go any farther.

My legs just stopped working. One moment I was walking, the next I was on my knees in the dirt. My vision blurred, and the world tilted sideways.

Just then, I heard water. Like a stream was somewhere close. If I could just reach it. Just get one more drink.

So, I crawled. Actually crawled on my hands and knees like an animal, my palms scraping over rocks and roots.

Eventually, my arms gave out, and I fell face-first into a pile of dead leaves, too weak to even lift my head.

My hand slowly moved to my stomach, “I'm sorry,” I whispered to the tiny life inside me. “I did my best. I tried so hard.”

Tears streamed down my eyes, mingling with the dirt on my face. I had failed. Failed to save us. Failed to escape. We would die out here alone, and no one would ever know. No one would care.

Darkness crept in at the edges of my vision, and it was strangely comforting.

Maybe death was kinder than what Lucius had planned for us. At least this way, my baby would never feel pain. Never know what it was like to be unwanted.

I let the darkness pull me under.

°°°°°°

Warmth was the first thing I felt. It surrounded me, with soft fabric against my skin instead of the roughness of dirt and leaves.

I quickly forced my eyes open.

Candlelight flickered across a ceiling I didn't recognize. Stone walls. Dried herbs hanging in bundles. The scent of something medicinal filled my nose.

Where was I?

I tried to sit up, but pain shot through every muscle in my body, forcing me back down with a gasp.

“She's awake.” A woman's voice called out, soft and worried.

Faces appeared above me. Women in long robes, their hair loose, their eyes reflecting the candlelight with an odd glow. Five of them. No, six. They stared down at me with expressions I couldn't read.

Fear gripped me as I recognized the robes and the strange, glowing eyes.

There were witches.

The pack had always warned us about witches. Monsters who stole children and cursed wolves. Creatures who lived in the Witchwood and practiced dark magic.

I tried to scramble backward, but my body wouldn't cooperate. “Stay away from me.”

“Peace, child.” An older woman reached toward me, her hand outstretched. “No one here will hurt you.”

“You are witches.” My voice came out broken.

“Yes.” She didn't deny it. “And you are safe here.”

Safe? Nothing about this was safe. I had escaped one monster only to fall into the hands of others.

Suddenly, the women parted and an old man stepped through, his white hair falling past his shoulders in waves. His dark blue eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my breath catch.

He moved closer to the bed, his steps slow and careful. Like he was approaching something fragile that might shatter.

“Daria.” My name came out as barely a whisper. A tear slid down his weathered cheek. “My granddaughter. You are alive.”

I stared at him, my mind struggling to process the word. “Granddaughter?”

“Your mother was my daughter.” He reached for my hand, his fingers trembling. “Elara. She died in the Great War when you were just a baby. I thought I had lost you both.”

Elara was my mother's name. I had only known it because one of the older pack members had mentioned it once, years ago. But no one had ever told me anything else about her. About where she came from. Who she was.

“I… I don't understand.” My throat felt tight. “You are a witch. My mother was a wolf.”

“Your mother was both.” His grip on my hand tightened. “Witch and wolf. Just like you carry both bloodlines in your veins.”

“What? That's impossible.”

“Rare, but not impossible.” He smiled sadly. “I tried to reach you after the war. Tried to get into the Blood Pact territory to bring you home. But they wouldn't let me past the borders. Said I was a threat. That witches weren't welcome in wolf lands.”

I wanted to pull my hand away and run. But I was too weak to move, and some small, desperate part of me clung to his words.

Family. He was claiming to be family.

“Why now?” I asked. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because fate brought you to our doorstep.” He gently brushed his thumb across my knuckles. “Because the Moon Goddess heard my prayers and sent you home.”

Home. The word felt foreign and so wrong because I didn't have a home. I had never had a home.

Before I could respond, pain exploded in my abdomen. It suddenly felt like someone had pushed a burning blade into my stomach and twisted it.

I gasped, doubling over, my free hand clutching my belly.

No. Not now. Not after everything.

“Daria?” The old man's face went pale. “What's wrong?”

I looked down to see blood soaking through the white nightgown they had dressed me in, spreading in a dark stain that grew with every second.

Terror unlike anything I had ever felt crashed over me. “The baby.”

“Get the healing stones! Now!” His voice cracked with command and fear.

The witches swarmed around the bed, their hands pressing against my stomach. Someone chanted in a language I didn't understand. The scent of herbs grew choking, overwhelming.

I couldn't focus on any of it. All I could feel was the pain and the horrible, creeping certainty that I was losing my baby.

“The bleeding won't stop!” A woman's voice, high and panicked.

“Try the binding spell,” another urged.

“It's not working. She's too weak. The baby is draining what is left of her strength.”

My grandfather's face appeared above me, tears streaming down his weathered cheeks. His hands gripped mine, trembling. “Stay with me, Daria. Please.”

But I was fading. The edges of my vision darkened, and my body felt impossibly heavy, like I was sinking into the bed.

“Silas.” One of the witches grabbed his shoulder, her voice urgent and terrible. “We don't have much time. We have to choose.”

“Choose?” His voice broke on the word.

“We can save one. Not both.” She spoke quickly, desperately. “The mother is hemorrhaging. The baby is too small, too fragile. Our magic isn't strong enough to save them both.”

No. No, that couldn't be right.

“There has to be another way,” my grandfather said.

“There isn't. The spell requires a choice.” The witch's voice dropped to barely a whisper, but I heard every word. “Save the mother, or save the child. You have to decide. Now.”

I tried to speak. I tried to scream that they had to save my baby. That my life didn't matter, had never mattered, but my child deserved a chance.

But no sound came out. My lips wouldn't move. My body wouldn't respond.

All I could do was lie there, bleeding out, while someone decided which of us deserved to live.

My grandfather's hand tightened around mine. His face hovered above me, torn apart by a choice no one should ever have to make.

“Choose,” the witch urged. “We are losing them both. Choose NOW.”