Chapter 67
Aaron’s POV
The battle was over, and I was furious. My rogues had been confident, their hunger for revenge clear in their
eyes, but the Firemoon Pack was stronger. Their warriors were too many, too disciplined. We were outnumbered and outmatched.
I paced in the witch’s lair, the scent of burning herbs and damp earth suffocating me. My body still ached
from the fight, but it was nothing compared to the sting of failure.
“How could this happen?” I growled, slamming my fist against the wooden table. “We were supposed to win!”
The witch sat on a stool in the corner, stirring her ever–bubbling cauldron. Her expression wasn’t sympathetic.
In fact, she looked amused.
“You underestimated them,” she said, her voice calm and laced with mockery. “And overestimated your little
band of rogues.”
I turned to her, my chest heaving with anger. “Stop laughing!” I shouted. Her smirk only widened.
“You’re so predictable, Aaron,” she said with a shake of her head.
“You think this is funny?” I snarled, stepping closer to her. My fists clenched at my sides, and my blood boiled with rage. “I lost because of your useless advice! You told me the rogues would be enough.”
The witch didn’t flinch. She looked at me with the same irritating smirk. “Oh, Aaron, don’t blame me for your failure. You were the one who rushed into battle, thinking numbers alone would win a war. I simply gave you the tools. It’s not my fault you didn’t use them properly.”
Her words were like a slap to my face. “I don’t need your lectures,” I snapped. “I need solutions. I need Mira. And I will get her, no matter what.”
“Will you, though?” she asked, tilting her head. Her tone was mocking, but her dark eyes glimmered with something else–interest. “Because from where I stand, it looks like you’re running out of time. And options.”
I clenched my jaw, swallowing my pride. As much as I hated to admit it, she wasn’t wrong. I had to try again, but this time, I needed a better plan.
“What do you suggest?” I asked through gritted teeth.
The witch chuckled softly and rose from her stool. She moved closer, her long, dark robes whispering against the floor. “Now we’re talking,” she said. “There is one thing I could do to help you. Something…
unconventional.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What is it?”
She walked over to a shelf cluttered with jars and vials, running her fingers over them as if choosing her words carefully. Finally, she turned to face me.
“I can create a potion,” she said. “A potion that will turn your rogues into something more–zombie
werewolves.”
I blinked, unsure if I had heard her correctly. “Zombie werewolves?”
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“Yes,” she said with a wicked grin. “They will be stronger, faster, and almost impossible to kill. And the best part? When they bite someone, that person will turn into one of them. Imagine your enemies–your precious Firemoon warriors–becoming part of your army. It’s the perfect way to tip the scales in your favor.”
Her words sent a chill down my spine, but the idea intrigued me. If the rogues couldn’t win as they were, turning them into unstoppable creatures could change everything.
“How do you know this will work?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
She raised a brow. “I’ve done it before. Let’s just say it wasn’t… pretty. But it was effective.”
I paced the room, the gears in my mind turning. It was a risk, but what choice did I have? I couldn’t afford
another failure.
“What’s the catch?” I finally asked.
The witch’s grin widened. “Ah, I was wondering when you would ask. My help doesn’t come free, Aaron. If you want this potion, you’ll need to pay me.”
I folded my arms, my patience wearing thin. “How much?”
She tapped her chin, pretending to think. “A substantial sum. Let’s just say enough to make this worth my while. Magic like this doesn’t come cheap.”
Money wasn’t an issue for me. I had plenty of resources stashed away, and I would do whatever it took to win. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll pay you whatever you want. Just get to work.”
The witch’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Excellent. I’ll need a few days to prepare the potion. The ingredients aren’t easy to come by, and the process is… delicate.”
“Do it,” I said firmly. “And make sure it works.”
She gave a mock bow. “As you wish, Alpha.”
The following days were agonizing. I watched as the witch worked tirelessly, gathering strange herbs and chanting incantations that sent chills down my spine. The rogues were restless, their confidence shaken after the defeat. They eyed me warily, as if doubting my leadership.
I didn’t care what they thought. All that mattered was the plan.
“You look tense,” the witch said one evening, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she stirred the cauldron. “I don’t have time for your games,” I growled.
She smirked. “Relax, Aaron. The potion is nearly ready. Soon, you’ll have an army that even the Firemoon Pack can’t defeat.”
Her confidence annoyed me, but it also gave me a sliver of hope. “It better work,” I said, my tone a warning. “It will,” she said smoothly. “As long as you hold up your end of the bargain.”
I nodded, my mind already racing ahead to the battle. This time, I wouldn’t fail.
Finally, the night came when the potion was ready. The witch called me to her lair, where the air was thick with the pungent scent of magic. The cauldron bubbled with a dark, viscous liquid that seemed to pulse with
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life.
“It’s done,” she said, holding up a vial of the potion.
I took it from her. The weight of the vial was heavy in my hand. “How do we use it?”
“Simple,” she said. “Give it to your rogues. They’ll drink it, and the transformation will begin. It won’t be pleasant, but the results will be worth it.”
I stared at the vial, my resolve hardening. “Good. Then let’s get started.”
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The witch raised a brow. “One more thing, Aaron. Once they turn, there’s no going back. They’ll be monsters- mindless, ruthless, and completely loyal to you. Are you ready for that?”
“I don’t care what they become,” I said coldly. “As long as they win me the war.”
She nodded, satisfied with my answer. “Then go. Your destiny awaits.”
That night, I gathered the rogues around the campfire. They looked at me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. Their wounds from the last battle were still fresh.
“I know you’re angry,” I began, my voice strong and commanding. “Angry at the Firemoon Pack for their strength. Angry at me for leading you into a losing battle. But I’m here to tell you that we won’t lose again.” The rogues muttered among themselves, their expressions dark.
“I have a way to make us stronger,” I continued, holding up the vial. “Stronger than any pack, stronger than any enemy. This potion will change you–make you into something unstoppable. But it’s not for the faint of heart. Only the brave will drink it.”
The rogue leader, the scarred man who had first joined me, stepped forward. “What’s the catch?”
“There’s no catch,” I said firmly. “You’ll become part of something greater. And when we win, you’ll have your revenge. Every single one of you.”
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I’m in.”
One by one, the rogues stepped forward, taking the potion and drinking it. Their screams filled the night as the transformation began, their bodies contorting and shifting. It was horrifying to watch, but I didn’t look away. This was my army, my weapon.
When it was over, they stood before me–no longer men, but creatures of the night. Their eyes glowed with an unnatural light, and their snarls sent shivers down my spine.
“Now,” I said, a cold smile spreading across my face, “we take what’s ours.”
The rogues roared in agreement, their bloodlust palpable. This time, there would be no mercy. This time, I would win.
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