Amber carried Corin as though the girl weighed no more than a child. Her blood soaked Amber's tunic, trailing dark across the forest floor. Caleb followed close, fists tight, face carved from grief. Elara kept pace beside him, every breath a prayer she did not know the words to.
The healer's hut lay tucked deep in the forest where a stream whispered against mossy stones. Smoke curled from a low chimney. The air smelled of damp earth, herbs, and something older—something faintly metallic that prickled the back of Elara's tongue.
The door opened before they reached it.
A woman stepped out, her hair silver-white though her face was smooth and ageless. Her eyes glowed faintly green in Elara's sight, not like the sharp emerald she'd seen in Corin but layered, like sunlight falling through leaves. She did not flinch at the sight of blood, or at the wolves that shadowed the clearing. She only said, calm and clear, "Bring her in."
Amber obeyed.
Inside, the hut was a tangle of herbs hanging from rafters, bowls carved from bone, jars of powders and roots stacked in crooked shelves. A table stood in the center, its surface scarred by years of use. Amber laid Corin down gently.
The healer's hands moved quick and sure, unwrapping bloodied cloth, pressing herbs into the wound. A faint green glow spread from her palms into Corin's torn flesh. Caleb stiffened.
"What is that?" he demanded. His voice cracked with fear more than anger.
The healer did not look up. "What keeps her alive."
"She needs a doctor, not—this."
Amber's golden gaze cut to him. "This is better than your doctors."
Caleb bit his tongue but didn't move away. He gripped Corin's limp hand, whispering her name as though the sound might anchor her to the world.
Elara forced herself to watch. Her silver sight sharpened, and she saw it—the healer's aura spreading into Corin's wound, stitching torn flesh, steadying the flow of blood. It wasn't human healing. It wasn't anything she had ever seen before.
Minutes stretched like hours. Corin's breath fluttered, faltered, then steadied. The glow faded.
The healer finally sat back, sweat shining on her brow. "She will live."
Caleb let out a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. He pressed his forehead to Corin's hand. "Thank you."
"She is strong," the healer said, wiping her hands. "But strength alone did not save her. She carries immunity in her blood."
Caleb's head snapped up. "Don't start that again." His voice cracked like a whip. "She's not one of you."
The healer's eyes softened with something like pity. "She is fae, child. That blood has always been hers."
"No," Caleb spat. "She would have told me. We—we've known each other since we were children. She's human. She's—" His voice broke. "She's mine."
Elara stepped closer. The truth blazed too bright to deny. Corin's aura burned emerald, steady and alive. Not the sickly yellow she'd seen in the bitten guards. Not the silver of her own reflection. Green. Fae.
"She isn't turning," Elara said gently. "I can see it. She's fae, Caleb."
He stared at her, betrayal plain in his eyes. "And you—you knew?"
"I didn't." Elara's throat tightened. "Not until now. Not until the bite."
Corin stirred faintly on the table. Her lashes fluttered, her lips parting on a ragged breath. "Fae?" she whispered, eyes glassy. "No. That's not me."
Her voice was raw, broken, denial clinging to every syllable. She turned her head weakly, as if rejecting the truth itself. Then the effort drained her and she fell back into sleep.
Caleb's hand tightened on hers. "She doesn't believe it. Because it isn't true." His voice shook. "You're filling her head with lies."
The healer rose, weary but unbending. "You would rather she die than accept what she is?"
Caleb flinched but said nothing. His jaw locked, eyes burning.
Amber crossed her arms. "Better you rage at the truth than bury her."
Elara stepped between them before the room split apart. "Enough. She's alive. That's what matters now." Her voice trembled but steadied. "The rest—she'll face it when she wakes."
Silence pressed in. Caleb bowed his head over Corin's hand. Amber stood watchful at the door. The healer busied herself with herbs, though her eyes lingered on Elara once, thoughtful, as though seeing more than Elara wanted her to.
---
That night, the hut was quiet except for the crackle of the fire. Caleb refused to leave Corin's side, curled in a chair, eyes red but unyielding.
Elara stepped outside to breathe. The forest was silver with moonlight. The wolves patrolled in near silence, shadows among shadows. Luke leaned against a tree nearby, his arm still bound from the Alpha's bite. He looked pale but steady, his eyes brighter than she remembered.
"You should rest," Elara said.
Luke gave a crooked half-smile. "Says the girl wandering under the moon when she should be sleeping "
She almost smiled back, then sighed. "It feels like the world's shifting under my feet. Corin… Caleb…"
"And you," Luke said quietly. His gaze was steady, too steady. "You're changing too."
Her stomach knotted. "What do you mean?"
He hesitated, then shook his head. "Never mind. Just—don't lose yourself in all this."
For a moment, she wanted to ask him more. But the words caught in her throat. She only nodded. "Goodnight, Luke."
He dipped his head in something close to a bow. "Goodnight, Elara."
---
Later, she slipped back into the hut. Caleb stirred, rising from his chair, eyes shadowed. "Elara." His voice was rough.
She froze in the doorway.
He stepped closer, close enough to smell the smoke in his clothes. His hand brushed hers, tentative but familiar. "We'll get through this. You and me. Like we always have."
Her heart twisted. "Caleb—"
He silenced her with a quick, desperate kiss, more grief than tenderness. When he pulled back, his eyes searched hers, pleading.
Before she could answer, the floor creaked softly. Luke stood in the doorway, half in shadow. His expression was unreadable, but his silvered eyes caught the firelight, sharp as blades.
"I'll be on guard " he said simply, and sat on the floor at the foot of her bedroll. His presence was steady, protective, impossible to ignore.
Elara lay down, her pulse still racing, caught between Caleb's desperation and Luke's quiet loyalty. Sleep came slow, heavy with the healer's words and the echo of silver and green in her sight.