Faded into the haze of incense and sleep, like a memory whispered into dusk.
I didn't even know when I drifted off. But when I woke—
I felt it.
The pain was still there, but dull now. Manageable. My limbs felt lighter. My lungs fuller. My skin… like it was finally mine again.
The ointment was still burning beside me, faint curls of silver smoke dancing in the early morning light. But this time, I didn't just smell it—
I could feel it.
Something had changed.
I shifted slowly, cautiously, swinging my legs off the bed. My bare feet touched the wooden floor. For a second, I paused, testing the pull in my bones, the stretch in my spine.
Then I stood.
Unassisted.
Balanced.
Strong.
And the instant I rose—Asha spun around from the counter, eyes wide in shock.
She made to run to me, instinctively ready to help—
But then she stopped.
Her breath caught, lips parting slightly as realization sank in. She saw it.
The steadiness in my posture.
The calm in my gaze.
The presence behind my eyes.
Her hand fell to her side, and slowly… she smiled.
A soft, glowing thing—part pride, part joy, part quiet awe.
She didn't say a word. She didn't need to.
That smile said everything.
You're back.
I knew you would be.
And I'm so damn happy for you.
And just like that, my chest filled with something I hadn't felt in weeks.
Maybe longer.
Not just strength.
Gratitude.
And something dangerously close to… affection.
It hurt more than I thought it would.
When she refused to come with me.
I didn't blame her—not for a second. Healing people… it wasn't just what she did. It was who she was. Asha belonged to the wildlands, to the broken and the forgotten, to the roots and the rivers and the wind.
She said her purpose was here. That she was needed more in the wilds than behind the gates of my pack.
But how could I leave her behind?
The wildlands weren't safe. Rogues passed through. Hunters. Things even darker than that. And the thought of her out there alone made my chest feel like it was cracking in two.
But she only smiled, touched my chest right over my heart, and said,
"I'll be fine. You need to go home now, Prince Kael. You've got a kingdom waiting."
So with a heavy heart, I left.
The journey back took three days. Rhen, now strong and fully present, guided us like he knew the land better than his own paws. His strength made my steps firmer, my posture straighter. We were back. Whole.
And when we passed the final tree line and saw the tall black gates of the Eastern Moon Pack?
I felt something crack open in my chest.
Not pain.
Not regret.
Just... the weight of being home.
The moment the guards recognized me, horns blew across the grounds. My name echoed through the pack lands like thunder.
My mother was the first to appear—hair windblown, cloak dragging behind her, eyes wide and wet.
My father followed, slower, but taller somehow. His face lined with age, like grief and fear had carved themselves into his bones.
The moment she saw me, my mother ran straight into me—then slapped me, hard across the chest.
"You—" her voice cracked. "We couldn't find you. We couldn't feel you. Not even your wolf."
"I know," I murmured, pulling her into a hug. "I know."
She broke. Just like that.
I turned to my father next. He didn't speak, just nodded once with glassy eyes, jaw clenched like he'd been holding back emotion for days, maybe weeks.
We went inside.
And I told them everything.
The betrayal.
The poisoned wine.
The silence in my mind.
Waking up in a stranger's cabin.
A healer with fire in her soul and magic in her fingers.
How she helped me walk again.
How she brought Rhen back.
How she refused the title, the protection, the life she could have had… because healing strangers meant more to her than royalty ever could.
And when I was done, silence fell over the room.