CHAPTER THIRTY

As Zahra disappeared into the night, leaving the hospital behind, a profound change occurred in Old Quil's condition. The erratic fluctuations of his heartbeat smoothed into a steady rhythm.

His shallow breathing deepened, and the pallor of his skin began to fade, replaced by a healthier hue. The medical staff, prepared for the worst, now found themselves confounded by the elder's sudden and inexplicable recovery.

Doctors hurriedly reviewed his charts, nurses exchanged bewildered glances, and the pack members gathered in the waiting room were left grappling with disbelief. They had all braced for tragedy, certain that Old Quil's time was slipping away.

"How is this even possible?" Jake muttered, standing at the edge of the room, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Embry, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, added, "He was barely holding on when we got here. And now he's...fine?" His voice trailed off as his gaze shifted to Quil, who was locked in an embrace with his mother, Joy. Both Atearas shared the same stunned expression, their relief tinged with disbelief.

Sam, the de facto leader of the pack, broke the silence. "The doctors said he just...got better." His voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of tension. "They can't explain it. One minute, he was slipping away, and the next..." He gestured vaguely toward the elder's hospital room. "It doesn't make sense."

"It's like a miracle," Joy whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of awe and confusion.

Despite the relief that rippled through the room, a heavy silence hung over them. None dared voice the question lingering in their minds: Why? Or perhaps more pressing: How?

Quil finally broke away from his mother's embrace and approached Old Quil's bedside. Tentatively, he reached out and clasped the elder's hand. The instant their skin made contact, Old Quil's eyes snapped open, startling everyone in the room.

"Gramps?" Quil whispered, leaning in closer. His voice was soft but edged with urgency.

The elder blinked, his gaze unfocused at first, but as clarity returned, his eyes locked onto his grandson's. A single word escaped his lips, barely audible but filled with emotion: "Zahra."

Joy stepped forward, concern etched across her face. "What about Zahra?"

Old Quil's breathing quickened as he gripped Quil's hand with surprising strength. "You have to stop her!" he exclaimed, his voice rising with desperation.

Paul, ever quick to jump to conclusions, crossed his arms and interjected, "Stop her from what? Hurting someone else?"

The elder's eyes flashed with indignation as he turned to Paul. "Zahra didn't hurt me, boy. She saved my life! She wouldn't harm a soul—not even you if you deserved it."

Quil tightened his grip on his grandfather's hand, his own guilt and confusion evident in his voice. "Gramps, what do you mean? What do we need to stop her from?"

Old Quil took a deep breath, his expression sombre. "The one who nearly took my life wasn't Zahra. It was an Enchantress. And now Zahra's gone to her."

The room fell into stunned silence, the weight of his words sinking in. Sam stepped forward, his tone measured but firm. "How do you know this, Old Quil?"

"I've always known," the elder admitted, his gaze flickering with a mix of sorrow and resolve. "It's why I kept my distance from Zahra, even though I cared for her deeply. The stories passed down in the Makah tribe—the ones about a heartbroken woman who sought out forbidden power—they weren't just myths. That woman was Zahra's mother, Yareli Swan."

The pack listened intently as Old Quil recounted the tragic tale of Yareli and Ahanu, a love story turned bitter by betrayal and loss. He revealed how the exiled elder's jealousy and spite had driven Yareli to seek the Enchantress's dark aid, and how that curse had trickled down to her daughter, Zahra.

"And now," Old Quil continued, his voice heavy with urgency, "Zahra is walking into the same trap. The Enchantress will destroy her."

"Do you know where Zahra went?" Quil asked, his voice trembling.

The elder nodded, his eyes locking onto his grandson's. "The place where you found her. That's where the Enchantress waits."

Quil stood frozen for a moment, his mind racing. Then, with a sharp nod, he turned to leave. Old Quil's hand tightened on his one last time, pulling him back. "Save her, my boy," the elder pleaded, his voice breaking. "Save her before it's too late."

"I will," Quil promised, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

As Quil stormed out of the hospital room, the pack fell in step behind him, their grim expressions mirroring the weight of the task ahead. The tension between them was palpable, their shared guilt and determination intertwining like threads in a frayed rope. Quil's strides were swift, his resolve evident, but his heart hammered against his ribs, a drumbeat of fear and urgency.

Behind them, Joy remained at Old Quil's bedside. She sank to her knees, her fingers interlocked in a tight, trembling grip as she bowed her head. The dim hospital lighting cast long shadows on the walls, amplifying the heaviness in the room. Her whispered prayers filled the silence, each word a plea to the spirits, to the ancestors, to anyone who might be listening.

"Please, watch over them," she murmured, her voice cracking. "Guide them to her. Protect my son, protect Zahra. Don't let them face this alone."

Old Quil, still pale but undeniably stronger than he had been mere hours ago, reached out a hand to rest it gently on Joy's shoulder. His touch was frail yet steady, a quiet reassurance amidst the storm of emotions.

"She's stronger than she looks," he said softly, his voice tinged with both admiration and sorrow. "But even the strong can fall if they stand alone for too long."

Joy looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She shouldn't have to be strong alone. Quil and the others—they have to bring her back."

"They will," Old Quil replied, his tone firm despite the weight of his words. "Because they have to."

Meanwhile, outside the hospital, the pack shifted seamlessly into their wolf forms, their massive paws pounding against the forest floor as they raced toward the cliffs. The moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting streaks of silver across their fur. Their shared mind-link buzzed with tension and half-formed thoughts, but none spoke. The gravity of their mission pressed too heavily on them to waste words.

Quil led the charge, his thoughts a whirlwind of memories and regrets. Images of Zahra's soft smile, her laughter, the way she had fit so easily into their lives—they collided with the image of her tear-streaked face when he had doubted her, accused her without hesitation. The ache in his chest deepened with every step.

"She's not just some girl," Quil finally broke the silence in their shared link, his voice trembling with emotion. "She's family. She's...important."

"We know," Jake replied, his tone softer than usual. "We all feel it."

Embry added, "Then we make this right. Whatever it takes."