Chapter 32 ~The healing that hurts~
(Fiona's POV)
Now and then, life has its cruel little offerings. They say bitter experiences shape you, but what if they don't? What if they're just there to hurt? To cause pain?
A constant feeling of gloom has surrounded me since I saw the bloodshed. Since I saw a six-year-old pup's life taken.
I can still hear the cries of agony outside. The pain of our warriors dying fills my ears. My heart bleeds at the sight of Mirabelle scrunched up in the corner of the room. Not crying, not moving. Just a blank stare in her eyes.
The blank stare mirrors mine. But a Luna has duties, and I must never falter.
Yara's voice was heard counting the pups in the safehouse. “41… 42, where's Artemis?”
I managed to gather a few of the wounded she-wolves and pups to use my healing abilities on them. But I'm too weak and burned out.
A small spark of light forms in my hands as I heal the sixteenth wolf, more like a weak flicker.
Yara walked up to me with a limp. Her eyes were hooded with worry. “Fiona, I think you've tried. You look like you're about to pass out as well.”
“What do I do, then?” I whisper sadly. “I can't just leave them to die.”
She placed her hands on my shoulders, comforting me.
“Look around you.” She gestured to the room. “This is not your responsibility.”
Maybe she was right. But what if she wasn't? What if I was indirectly responsible for this?
I just couldn't seem to shake the feeling that Beckett must have had something to do with this. Maybe to get revenge for me joining Silvereign.
But I said nothing. I just sat beside Mirabelle, in a soothing embrace, as we both quietly comforted ourselves.
The war went on through the night.
The she-wolves and pups were tucked in the safehouse. Yara and I took turns through the night, watching them in case the rogues somehow breached the entrance to the safehouse.
The most painful part of the night wasn't the migraines in my head. It wasn't the fear that Xander might not make it out alive, because I knew that somehow he would. It wasn't the sounds of some wounded taking their last breath as I sat watching helplessly.
It was the screams of terror from Mirabelle, in the dark of the night. When disbelief had turned to cold, bitter grief.
“Bibo!” Her voice echoed through the night as she finally cried loudly.
Only at the crack of dawn did the sounds of blades slashing and jaws snarling subside.
A knock on the door startled us.
“Wait!” I stopped Yara as she was about to open the doors.
“No… it's Calvin. He mindlinked me.”
I nodded, and she flung the door ajar.
Calvin walked in looking battle-scarred and bloodstained. He wore a crooked smile, but I knew it was the smile of someone forcing composure.
Yara gasped at the sight of him, hugging him in a tight embrace the moment they were close.
They clung to each other for so long that I thought they would not break apart. Yara kept muttering in his ears. “Thank the gods! You're safe.”
Finally, they broke away. Calvin walked up to me. “Luna.”
“How's the war? What's happening?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“The war is over. We managed to kill some rogues, but most got away.” He had an odd look in his eyes.
I watched as the she-wolves and pups began leaving the safehouse on hearing that the war was over. Probably to find their loved ones… or whatever was left of them.
“And Xander?” I finally asked the question that had been bugging my mind.
“He…” Calvin zoned out mid-speech.
“He what? Is he dead?” My question was a quiet whisper. Almost inaudible.
My heart palpitated in my chest. I clenched my fist until they turned pale. Almost white.
“No… no. He's not. But he was severely wounded. He's unconscious."
My legs carried me faster to the door, before I even asked where Xander was. I didn't even realise that I was running.
I was panting by the time I got to the main house. I opened the door to his room, and there he was.
Pale. Fragile. Wounded.
He was lying on the bed, covered halfway with a thick duvet. An elderly woman with platinum hair was sitting beside him, cleaning his wounds with a strange-looking ointment.
The air was thick with the smell of incense. They were most likely lit to drive away the spirits of death.
The old woman forced a bowl of steaming soup through his mouth. Some escaped from the sides of his mouth.
She finally looked at me. Her eyes were deep and intense. “Luna Fiona,”
“Hu…” I wanted to ask how he was doing, but somehow, words had completely eluded me.
“You're shaking.”
I looked at my hands. Only then did I notice they were, in fact, shaking terribly. And so was my entire body.
“I…”
“I think you should sit down.” She had a quiet but powerful aura.
“I need to help him.” It was hard to counter her, but at this point, all I wanted was to see Xander heal. “I have healing abilities. I can help him.”
She gave a sad smile. “You look like you need help yourself.”
If it were under different circumstances, I might have laughed. But now, I wasn't myself. “I have to.”
“If you use your abilities in this state, it could harm you.”
Then let it.
I moved closer to Xander's bed and placed my hands on his chest, willing my Luna powers to course through me.
I felt a burning sensation on my palms, like I was placing them on hot coals.
The light burst through, only this time, it wasn't white. It was an odd shade of green.
I winced at the sudden pain. But I kept my hands on his chest steadily. Straining with my last breath to make sure he came to.
It was working, because I could see his brows twitching slightly.
The burn was getting worse. I heard a loud, piercing scream.
I didn't realise I was the one screaming until the old lady placed her hands on my shoulder.
Xander coughed twice.
My body grew weak. But I kept my hands there until I saw his eyes open.
It was then that I finally gave in to the void and collapsed. The last thing I saw was his hands catching me before I landed on the floor with a thud.