Chapter 7: The Strange Mark
The cell door creaked open for the second time that day. Aria lifted her head, expecting yet another tormentor. Instead, a young girl stood in the doorway, clutching a tray of food. A heavy iron cuff encircled her ankle—a slave.
"Take it back. I refuse to eat," Aria rasped, her voice hoarse but unyielding.
The girl set the tray down and knelt before her, meeting Aria defiant gaze.
“Luna.”
"I am not your Luna," Aria snapped, her voice sharp as flint.
The girl sighed.
“You do not understand, do you? The longer you refuse, the worse my punishment will be. I am responsible for you now. I am your personal maid. My name is Milicent.”
Aria finally lifted her head fully, studying her. The girl’s eyes—pleading, desperate—held no malice, only quiet resignation. Aria's expression wavered.
Without another word, she dragged the tray closer and began to eat.
Silence stretched between them.
"When you are finished, I shall prepare a bath and show you your room," Milicent murmured.
Lena stilled.
“My… room?” she whispered, the words foreign on her tongue.
She had never had a room of her own.
Before Milicent could answer, a sharp voice cut through the moment.
“That will not be necessary.”
Cedric stepped into the cell, his presence commanding. Milicent immediately knelt, head bowed.
"What is your name?"
"Milicent, my lord," she answered obediently.
"Your mistress will come with me to the healer," Cedric stated.
“She clearly requires care.”
Milicent hesitated, then glanced at Aria.
Her swollen eyes. Her bruised cheeks. The raw, unhealed wound on her wrist.
She looked like the walking dead.
“…As you wish, my lord,” Milicent whispered, lowering her head.
\---
The road to the healer stretched before them. As they left the Alpha's castle, Aria finally took in the grandeur of the kingdom.
Milicent trailed behind while Cedric strode beside her in silence.
Beyond the towering castle walls, the pack’s lands unfolded in breathtaking splendor. They stretched far and wide, a testament to wealth and power. Every street was lined with stately homes, their fine craftsmanship rivaling the dwellings of nobles. Even the outermost houses bore intricate carvings and polished stonework, more refined than anything she had seen her pack.
At last, they halted before a great building. Bold letters adorned the sign above its entrance: The Healer’s House.
Without a word, they stepped inside.
A blend of herbs and incense hung in the air. At the far end of the chamber, a woman stood tending to a customer. She lifted her head at their arrival—
Aria froze.
A cold shiver crawled down her spine.
That witch.
The very woman who had sealed her fate with Alpha Demetrius the night before.
The healer’s face betrayed nothing as she inclined her head.
“What brings the Luna to my humble home?” she asked, voice smooth as silk.
Aria swallowed hard.
“She requires a check-up,” Cedric answered.
Aria slowly pulled back her hood.
A hush fell over the room.
The air shifted.
All eyes turned toward her, burning with silent judgment.
The healer did not flinch. Without a word, she turned and ascended the stairs.
“Come,” she said.
They followed.
The chamber above was dimly lit, thick with the scent of dried herbs and pungent oils. Wooden shelves lined the walls, cradling vials, aged scrolls, and strange plants.
At the center of the room sat a small bed, its sheets clean and neatly arranged.
“Sit,” the healer commanded.
Aria hesitated. Cedric shot her a look. She had no choice. She stepped forward and sank onto the bed, every muscle in her body screaming in protest.
The healer approached, eyes sharp as a blade’s edge. She studied Aria's face—then her arms.
Without warning, she seized Aria’s wrist and turned it over. The deep cut was still fresh.
Milicent gasped.
The healer ran a cold finger along the wound. “This should have healed by now.” A pause. “How strange.”
Aria yanked her arm back. “There is nothing strange about it,” she snapped.
“I told him—I lost my wolf.”
The healer smirked. As if she knew a secret Aria did not.
“Oh, I know exactly what you did.”
Aria stiffened.
The woman turned away, fingers gliding over the bottles on the shelf. She selected one—a small vial filled with deep red liquid.
“You were prepared for this, were you not?” She swirled the vial. “Your mother made sure of it. The Moon Mark of Restraint… cruel, yet effective.”
Lena’s stomach twisted.
She had no idea what the hell that meant. her mother was dead for ages, why do they keep talking about her mother.
The healer faced her again. Her gaze was knowing. Calculating.
“Tell me, girl. Do you truly believe sealing your wolf will save you?”
Aria clenched her fists.
“I do not know what you speak of, witch!”
The healer’s lips curled in amusement.
“Witch?” A low chuckle. “I am no witch, girl. I am a healer. And you, a wolf once, should know well enough what that means.”
Aria held her tongue.
The healer stepped closer. “Where does it hurt?”
Aria's throat tightened. She hesitated—then, in a low voice—
“Last night. My lungs… they burned, as though tearing apart. My heart… it felt as if it were being shredded.” Her hand trembled over her chest. “And my head. It felt as if it would split open.”
The healer sighed. She knew the meaning behind such agony. But she did not say it aloud.She uncorked the vial. “Drink.”
Aria scowled. “I do not trust anything that comes from your hands.”
The healer smirked. “Suit yourself. But if you wish to survive in this pack, you will need strength. This will ease your pain.”
Aria hesitated.
Every inch of her ached. Her wrist throbbed. Her limbs were leaden.
Perhaps… just a sip.
She took the vial, her fingers trembling. Raised it to her lips.
The moment the liquid touched her tongue—
Fire.
A searing heat tore through her veins.
Aria gasped, her back arching violently. The pain was unbearable.
Milicent rushed forward. “Luna?”
The healer merely watched.
Unmoved.
Ari's vision swam. Her breath came in ragged pants.
What was happening to her?
Darkness closed in.
And then—
Everything went black.