Before the witch could respond, another figure emerged from the shadows of the room. An old woman, her eyes sharp and knowing, her presence commanding. “There is more to this than meets the eye,” she said, her voice a whisper of power. “I am the oldest healer witch. Let me see the boy.”
The first witch stepped back, a look of respect on her face. The elder approached Aiden, her gnarled hands hovering over his body. She closed her eyes, murmuring an incantation under her breath. A soft glow enveloped Aiden, and I held my breath, hope and fear warring within me.
After what felt like an eternity, the elder witch opened her eyes, her gaze meeting mine. “He is in a deep slumber, a state between life and death..."
...
When I arrived at the pack, everyone was still celebrating. They were dancing, singing, and howling as the moon shimmered through the light of the bonfire. From the shadows, I watched with tired eyes and trembling hands, fury bubbling within me. They were all here, feasting and looking so happy. Yet, no one cared—no one cared for my son! Not even his father!