Chapter 17: Several Layers Beneath I

The first thing I registered when I woke up was the smell of smoke and pine. The second was the heavy ache in my bones, as though I'd run for miles barefoot on stone. The third was that this wasn’t where I was just a second ago.

I opened my eyes and instead of rubble or blood surrounding me, I found myself staring up at the dark wooden beams carved with curling wolf motifs that I recognised.

For the first time, I wasn’t disappointed with finding out I was still in the book’s world. Soft fur blankets weighed me down, and a warm fire crackled low in the hearth. I was in Kieran's chambers, and I sighed slowly with relief.

"You're awake."

I quickly turned to see who it was, because that voice didn't belong to Kieran.

At the foot of the bed sat an older man in a rough-spun cloak, his dark hair streaked with silver strands, looking at me with a wise, curious expression.

He leaned forward to study me. "I am Calder, healer to Silverfang and all its members. My Alpha asked me to look after you while he dealt with the aftermath of the attack."

I pushed myself upright, immediately regretting it when my head nearly exploded with pain. My useless, heavy body trembled like it didn't belong to me anymore.

"Look after me?" I murmured. "I'm doing fine. Just a little tired, that’s all."

He gave me a look that said, in no uncertain terms, that I was full of shit.

"Fine, you say?" Calder's old, weathered hands reached for a leather pouch at his side, pulling out what looked like dried herbs. "Your pulse was so quiet, barely a whisper when they brought you here, and your skin was cold as winter stone."

"I don’t know. I’ve been having the worst day, so maybe I just overdid it a little…”

"A little?" He snorted, crumbling the herbs between his fingers as the scent of mint and something else I didn’t recognise filled the air.

"You poured out something tonight that I have not felt in decades. You used an ancient power, Luna. Power as old as the Moon Mother herself, and it drained from you as light would from a vessel."

I watched him sprinkle the herbs into a clay cup, then pour in some steaming water from a small black kettle by the fire.

“You're just being dramatic. All I did was help a sick kid."

"Child, you do not understand." His voice grew serious as he stirred the mixture together. "If you had not stopped when you did, you might not be breathing right now. This is not a gift to be used lightly."

I blinked at him, struggling and failing to understand his words as he said them. "Are you seriously telling me that I almost died from... touching someone?"

He didn't smile. Not even a little. "Now, I wouldn’t put it that way. You passed your spirit into the boy, then through him, until you drew poison out. That kind of magic demands a price, and I’m afraid that in your case, the price is strength.”

He paused, then continued ominously, “Perhaps even years from your life taken away if you use that magic too often."

The weight of his words settled over me uncomfortably, and I craned my neck to search his eyes for any sign that he was lying. "What do you mean by years from my life? Are you serious?"

"Aye. And that is only under the assumption that your body can handle it at all." His eyes narrowed as he handed me the steaming cup.

“It is a miracle that you could manage such a feat without training or preparation, and yet you did it as easily as breathing."

The tea smelled bitter but comforting still, so I took a small sip, wincing a little at the taste of it. "Yeah, well. It's not like I planned it. I don't even know how it happened."

He leaned closer, his scarred forearms catching the firelight. "Then tell me, Luna. Who taught you this? Was there someone in your past? A grandmother, perhaps? A woman who spoke of old ways?"

"I told you," I muttered, closing my eyes and letting the warmth of the cup seep into my palms. "I don't know what I did. I don't even care about the how right now. What I want to know is…”

I opened my eyes again. "The people. The mother, the boy I... whatever I did. Are they okay? What about the others in the bunker and in the pack? Are they safe?"

The healer frowned, but something in his expression softened anyway. "You truly care more for their welfare than your own, don't you?"

"Of course I do. They were hurt because of me. I mean… because someone was trying to get to me." The guilt sat heavily in my chest. "If that little boy had died..."

"But he did not." Calder set down his own cup and studied me with new interest. "The child breathes steady now. His fever broke completely, and his mother has not stopped praying thanks to the Moon Goddess since dawn."

Relief flooded through me so completely that I nearly dropped my tea. "And the others?"

"The wounded live, praise Luna, and even the warriors' wounds are healing faster than they should. Even I cannot explain it." He paused, watching my reaction carefully. "They will remember this night as the night the Moon Goddess worked through her chosen vessel."

Chosen. More like doomed. Doomed to live here forever in this craziness, as one thing or another threatened my life.

"I don't want to be anyone's chosen," I grumbled into my cup. "I just... I just wanted him to stop hurting. He was so small, and his mother was so scared. I couldn't just sit there and do nothing."

"And that," Calder said quietly, "is exactly why you were chosen."

Before I could ask what he meant by that, the door opened with a heavy creak.