The next few days all kind of blurred into one long haze of pain, sleep, and just… quiet.
Elara showed up every morning and evening — checking stitches, swapping bandages, pressing cool clothes on bruises that were already fading way too fast. She didn't talk a lot. Just worked with those steady hands of hers and sometimes hummed softly under her breath.
One time she caught me staring at my own arm — that deep claw mark now just pink and smooth instead of raw and angry red — and she paused.
"You heal quickly," she said.
I didn't answer. Didn't really know what to say. My wolf felt… different. Steadier. Not completely healed, but stronger. More alert.
My senses were sharper too — the crackle of the hearth sounded clearer, the smell of herbs and smoke hit stronger. I didn't understand it. I kept staring at my arm like an idiot. How was it pink already? It should still be raw. Hurting. I was stunned by how much better she felt, how much more present she was inside me. It didn't make any sense. I should've been weaker. Broken.
Instead… I felt ready. And that scared me. A lot.
I didn't tell Elara about the crossroads. About the mother's arms. About the kiss on my forehead that still felt real when I closed my eyes. Some things were too fragile to speak aloud. I just… couldn't. Not yet. Maybe never. I don't know.
Cassian came less often.
The first day, he stood in the doorway for a long time — arms crossed, eyes on me but not really seeing. Like he was waiting for me to disappear. Maybe attack. Or explain myself. When I didn't. He left without a word.
The second day, he brought broth. Set it on the small table beside the bed. Didn't speak. Didn't sit. Just watched me take a sip — slow, careful — then left again.
The third day, he stayed longer.
I was sitting up by then — propped against pillows, the pain dulled to a deep ache instead of fire. My wolf stretched inside me, testing her strength. She felt restless. Just ready to move. Itching for a run.
Cassian leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed again. Same dark shirt. Same scars on his forearms. Same storm-cloud eyes. "You're healing," he said. Not really a question. I nodded once.
He stepped inside. Closed the door quietly behind him. The room felt smaller the second he was in it. He pulled the chair closer but didn't sit. Just stood beside it, looking down at me
.
"You're not a prisoner," he said. "You can leave when Elara clears you. Or sooner. Your choice." I studied his face. I tried to read him. "Why let me stay at all?" I asked.
He exhaled — kind of sharp, almost frustrated — and turned his head toward the hearth, not quite looking at me. "Because I heard your prayer," he said quietly. "And you survived. That… that means something." I waited. He met my eyes again.
"And because I felt the bond snap when you renounced Blue Moon," he continued. "That's not something wolves do lightly. Whatever made you do it… it was enough to make you run into rogue land bleeding. That kind of courage doesn't get turned away at my borders."
Courage.
The word landed strangely. I hadn't felt courageous. I felt terrified. Desperate. But maybe… maybe that was the same thing. I don't know. It just sounded wrong coming out of his mouth.
I looked down at my hands. The stitches were almost gone. Skin smooth underneath. Too smooth. "My wolf feels different," I said softly. "Stronger."
He didn't look surprised.
"Sometimes survival does that," he said. "Sometimes it's something else. Either way, it's yours now." I didn't tell him about Hecate. Didn't mention the crossroads. The mother's arms. The tears. But I think he suspected something anyway.
He had that look. He shifted his weight and looked toward the window. "You don't have to decide anything tonight," he said. "Or tomorrow. Stay as long as you need. Eat. Heal. Rest. When you're ready, we'll talk about what comes next."
I nodded slowly. He turned to leave. "Cassian," I said. He paused and looked back.
"Thank you," I said again. "For everything." He didn't smile, but something in his eyes eased for just a fraction. "You're welcome, Alex," he said. He left.
I leaned back against the pillows. Stared up at the ceiling. My wolf settled inside me — calm, watchful, stronger than she'd been in years.
That warmth from Hecate's touch still lingered in my memory — faint, comforting, like a hand resting on my shoulder in the dark. I didn't know what it meant. I didn't know if it was real or just some desperate dream I made up to get through it. But it was enough for now. It had to be.
The healer's wing started feeling smaller every day.
By the end of the week, Elara finally stepped back from the bed and gave a small, satisfied nod.
"You're no longer bleeding," she said. "Bruises are yellow now and the stitches are out. You can walk, but do it slowly — no running, definitely no shifting, and no stairs if you can help it. And if anything pulls or burns, you come straight back here."
I nodded. My body still ached in places — deep, dull throbs — but the sharp fire was gone. My wolf paced inside me, eager, restless. She wanted out, wanted to stretch, wanted to feel the ground under her paws. I felt it too.
I felt like the walls were closing in. Elara helped me stand. My legs wobbled at first, but held. She steadied me with one hand on my elbow.
"Easy now," she said. "You're not invincible." I almost laughed. "I know." She gave me a look — half warning, half something softer.
"Alpha Cassian's waiting in the main hall," she said. "He asked me to tell you when you were cleared. Said you might want to see more than these four walls."
I glanced at her. "He said that?" Elara shrugged. "He doesn't say much. But he said that." She handed me a simple cloak — dark wool, hooded. "The halls are cold. And the pack… they're curious. So don't mind the stares. They mean no harm."
I pulled the cloak around me. It smelled faintly of pine and smoke. Like him. I stepped into the corridor.
The palace was bigger than I'd realized. Stone floors worn smooth by years of boots. High arched ceilings. Torches flickering in iron sconces. Tapestries hung on the walls — scenes of wolves running under full moons, battles won, borders held. No banners of allegiance. And for some reason, no symbols of the Moon Goddess. Just strength. Survival.
A few wolves passed. They nodded — quiet, respectful. No one asked questions, but they weren't hostile either. They simply acknowledged me. I felt their eyes linger, but no one stopped me.
Cassian was waiting at the end of the hall, leaning against a thick timber column. Arms crossed. Same dark shirt. Same scars. Same steady gaze.
He straightened when he saw me.
"You're up," he said. I nodded. "Elara cleared me." He looked at me and assessed me. "You look better," he said. "I feel better" I said.
He pushed off the column. "Come. I'll show you the rest."
I followed him down the corridor. He walked slowly—matching my pace. We passed open archways leading to training yards, a long dining hall with tables already set for evening meals, and a library with shelves carved into the stone walls.
Wolves moved around us — some training, some talking quietly, some carrying supplies. They nodded to Cassian while some glanced at me but they kept moving. He didn't explain much. Just walked and let me see. We stepped out onto a wide balcony overlooking the central courtyard. Below, wolves trained in pairs — shifted and unshifted. The sound of growls and thuds rose up. The air was crisp, cold and clean.
"This is the heart of it," he said. "Not a pack like Blue Moon. Just wolves who chose to stay. Who chose this." I leaned against the stone railing. The wind tugged at my cloak. "How many?" I asked.
"Enough," he said. "More every season. They come. They leave. Some stay." I looked at him. "And you?" He met my eyes. "I am Alpha." Silence stretched between us.
I felt my wolf stir. Cassian pushed off the railing. "You can walk the grounds when you're ready. Eat in the hall. Train when Elara allows it. No one will stop you. No one will force you."
I nodded. He turned to leave. "Cassian," I said again. He paused. "Why did you help me?" I asked. "Really." He looked back over his shoulder. "Because you asked for help," he said quietly. "And you were bleeding on my land. That's reason enough."
It wasn't the whole truth. I could feel it. But it was enough for now. I was here. Alive and Safe. For now. That was enough.
He walked away. I stayed on the balcony a while longer and watched the wolves below.Feeling the wind on my face. I felt my wolf stretch inside me — stronger, steadier, ready.