Chapter 108: Chapter 108
Ivy’s Point of View
The stench of fresh blood grew instantly as Dominic lunged forward from his chair, his hands anchoring the dying doctor’s shoulders to the rough table. Blade gripped the edge of the fluid-soaked cloth. With a single motion, Dominic uncovered the gauze, exposing the raw butchery underneath.
"Heavens," I breathed, my fingers already tracing the ragged edges of the flesh. "The doctor’s heart was directly stabbed by claws."
"Did they pierce the muscle, Ivy?" Dominic asked, he held the patient steady. "Is he too far gone?"
"Fortunately, the heart itself was not entirely pierced," I explained, my hands moving as I pulled out my clamps.
"The internal laceration shows that our guard blocked the strike in time to save his life at the border line. However, the wound is exceptionally deep—it reaches the very surface of the heart, and there is an immense amount of active bleeding. Previously, the frontier scouts only performed simple hemostasis. The moment we pulled that gauze away, the pressure dropped."
"What do you need, Ivy?" Dominic hissed through his teeth.
"Wolf, light the spirit lamps right now. Blade, bring me the boiling water." I commanded sharply, not breaking my focus for a single second.
I reached into my case, pulling out a dark, highly concentrated medicine. "I must give him a dose of this strong medicine first to entirely prevent the pain and wake his fading consciousness up. If his spirit slips into the underworld while I am inside his chest, his heart will stop completely."
I forced the herbal extract down the dying man’s throat, watching his chest convulse as a sudden, ragged gasp tore out of his lungs. His eyelids fluttered open, rolling back in agony.
"Hold him, Dominic. He cannot shift his torso." I barked, my hands diving into the open wound.
I prepared the specialized sheep intestine thread, threading it through my needles. Working in harmony with Dominic’s hands, I began to stitch the wound layer by layer, moving from the inside to the outside.
I was pressing the torn arterial walls down with my left thumb and sewing at the side with my right hand, letting my shamanic energy thread through the thread to instantly knit the cellular walls.
The process was grueling, the ticking of the clock drowned out by the wet, rhythmic puncture of the needle. But by the time my hands finally reached the outer layer of the skin, the pooling blood had slowed to a faint trickle, the active bleeding greatly reduced by the tight, multi-layered mesh of my stitches.
"He is stable for now," I panted, wiping the sweat from my forehead as I carefully applied a layer of my cooling leaf medicine over the fresh stitches and wrapped a clean, tight linen bandaging around his torso.
"A strong hemostatic and blood-generating prescription must be prescribed for immediate decoction. Boil these roots for three hours, and force him to drink it the exact second he stirs. Furthermore, prepare fever-reducing ice measures on his forehead." I instructed carefully, the shook their head.
"The physical trauma is massive, and whether he can truly survive this ordeal depends entirely on whether the hot topic—the burning wound infection—can be successfully controlled throughout the night." I added.
"I will leave my most abled guards to watch this room, Ivy," Dominic said softly, assuring me. "They will secure the courtyard. Let us return to the pack before the morning patrols notice our absence."
After leaving the guards to guard the perimeter, we quietly evacuated the hidden pharmacy and returned back to the main Silvermoon palace pack territory under the cover of the pre-dawn fog.
The ride back was entirely silent, the jolting of the carriage causing a sudden flutter in my lower abdomen. The fetus kicked forcefully against my ribs, a reminder that the twins inside my womb were growing larger and heavier by the day.
In just a few short days, the landscape of the Silvermoon Pack would shift into a dangerous arena. Bastian will formally marry Sarina as his official side concubine, a forced union meant to bury the scandal. Because of the high noble ranks involved, most of the powerful Alphas and Lunas in the entire werewolf kingdom will be coming across our borders to congratulate him and witness the wedding.
Even though I am currently having a big belly. I will actively help entertain the incoming noble guests in the main courtyard, placing me right in the crosshairs.
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Seraphina’s Point of View
I locked myself completely inside the room, refusing to look at the elegant red wedding banners the servants were mounting along the outer corridors. Tears of bitter, burning rage slipped down my cheeks as I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror. I felt a profound, crushing wave of self-loathing.
I deeply regretted the past choice of exchanging marriages with Ivy on that fateful wedding night. I had genuinely believed I was abandoning a dying, crippled heir to seize a glorious, active throne with Bastian, but now my choice had turned into an unholy prison.
Recently, the domestic peace inside our quarters had shattered entirely. I have been arguing with Bastian more and more every single day over his fading authority and the incoming concubine. Bastian rarely visits my bedroom anymore, often staying locked inside his private study until dawn to avoid my tears, leaving me entirely isolated with my growing stomach.
"Lady Seraphina, please, you must stop weeping," Delia said anxiously, kneeling by my stool to adjust my slippers. "The stress will harm your health. You must prioritize your unborn child above all else, hold your head high, and fiercely keep your Luna’s position from being stolen by that woman."
"How can I hold my head high when my husband is taking Sarina into our bed?" I shrieked, smashing a jar against the stone hearth.
Before Delia could sweep up the shards, the doors were pushed open. My heart did a desperate flutter as I realized my mother and father were also officially invited to the wedding banquet as high representatives of the Crescent Moon Pack.
My father went straight to the grand banquet hall to drink wine and manage diplomacy with Alpha Alaric, while my mother, Luna Camila, rushed directly to her daughter’s private room to comfort me.
"Look at you, Seraphina. Wipe your face this instant!" My mother commanded, pulling my hands away from my eyes as she sat beside me.
"You are acting like a weak, brainless village girl. Listen to me carefully. Sarina is entering this house only as a side concubine, not a wife. You must treat Sarina strictly as a lower concubine, ignore her petty insults, and focus entirely on pleasing Bastian... instead of wasting your energy fighting with Bastian! If you control the man’s desires and secure his favor, the concubine has no ground to stand on."
Just as she was speaking the words, the piercing, shrill sound of the traditional wedding suona and the thunderous, deafening roar of firecrackers outside the main courtyard started up, echoing through the glass window panes. The grand bridal sedan chair had officially arrived at the palace steps.
The celebratory music felt like a slap across my face, the thumping of the war drums signaling the arrival of my worst nightmare.
My mother stood up quickly, as she looked down at me. Her expression turned into a serious mask, and she squeezed my shoulder.
"The main feast is beginning, Seraphina," my mother reminded me, her voice dropping to a hurried whisper as she checked her hair in the mirror. "You are heavily distressed. Do not go out into the main courtyard due to your illness. Stay locked inside this room and let me handle the lords."
Before I could even voice my terror, my mother turned on her heel and then hurriedly went out to socialize and manage the incoming guests. Leaving me completely alone in the room while the joyous cheers of Bastian’s new marriage bled through the walls like a death sentence.
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