Chapter 40 - visit to the healer
The morning air was cold enough to sting my skin.
I pulled my cloak tighter around me as I walked the narrow path toward the healer’s ward, my steps slow and heavy. The sun was barely awake, a pale smear of gold behind the trees, but the ache in my chest had already settled deep — that dull, dragging weight I’d grown used to hiding.
By the time I pushed open the healer’s door, the scent of herbs and smoke had already filled the small room. Healer Alden looked up from his workbench, his gray hair catching the light, his eyes sharpening when he saw me.
“You’re back sooner than expected,” he said quietly. “Sit.”
I did, my legs trembling a little as I lowered myself onto the edge of the cot. “It’s worse,” I admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “The tightness. It doesn’t fade anymore.”
He nodded, his expression grim but calm. He’d seen me through every fainting spell, every trembling episode — but this one felt different, heavier somehow.
Alden reached for a jar, poured a thin stream of silvery tonic into a glass, and handed it to me. “Drink.”
I obeyed, the liquid bitter and sharp as it slid down my throat. He pressed his fingers gently to the inside of my wrist, feeling the pulse that fluttered too fast, too fragile. His brows knit together.
“You’ve been thinking too much,” he said, as if it were a crime.
I tried to smile. “Hard not to, lately.”
“Your thoughts are killing you faster than the sickness itself,” he said softly. “Your wolf feeds off your strength, your calm. And right now, she’s starving.”
I looked away, my throat tightening. “She barely speaks to me anymore. I can feel her… fading.”
He didn’t answer at first. The silence was thick, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. When he finally spoke, his tone was grave.
“Your wolf’s energy is nearly gone, Rhianna. I warned you before — your heart and your wolf are one. When she weakens, your body follows. If you try to summon her again, the strain could stop your heart entirely.”
My fingers clenched around the edge of the blanket. “So what do I do? Just sit here and wait?”
“You rest. You breathe. You let others carry the burdens you insist on holding alone.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “You make it sound easy.”
His eyes softened. “You’ve been pretending you’re fine for so long, child, that I think you’ve forgotten what it means to be cared for. You can’t keep living this way. Your heart is too unstable — even a shock, a transformation attempt, a severe argument — could push you past the edge.”
I felt the words sink in like stones. My hands trembled. I looked down at them, pale and small against the white blanket, and whispered, “How long do I have?”
He hesitated, then said quietly, “Less than a year. Perhaps much less if you keep ignoring the signs.”
The room tilted slightly. My chest burned. Less than a year. It sounded different this time — more real, more final.
Alden reached out and covered my hand with his. His touch was gentle, but his eyes were steady. “You must promise me something, Rhianna. No more strain. No long runs, no late nights, no attempts to summon your wolf. You need to keep your heart calm — it’s the only way to buy more time.”
I nodded weakly. “I’ll try.”
“Try harder,” he said softly.
When I stood to leave, my knees almost gave out. He caught my arm before I could fall and pressed a small pouch into my hand. “Herbal mix. Boil it twice a day. It will ease the pain. And Rhianna…”
I met his eyes.
“Tell someone. You don’t have to face this alone.”
But I just shook my head. “If they know, they’ll treat me like glass. And I don’t want to break before I have to.”
———
Outside, the sunlight had grown brighter, but it felt distant — as though the world were moving forward without me. I walked slowly back toward the pack house, each breath careful, each step deliberate.
My wolf stirred faintly, a whisper of warmth deep inside my chest. We’ll be fine, she murmured, weak but trying.
I wanted to believe her.
I wanted to believe that I could still run through the forest, still laugh with Tia, still stand beside Sebastian without him seeing the truth — the cracks spreading quietly through me.
But as I reached the edge of the courtyard and the laughter of the pack drifted to my ears, a dull ache spread through my ribs. I pressed a hand to my heart and swallowed the pain.
They couldn’t know. Not Sebastian. Not Hardin. Not anyone.
Because once they knew… it would make it real.
And I wasn’t ready to die yet. Once Sebastian learns of this, he will leave me. The council will consider me weak and dying and that's not what I want. I'd rather they know at my death bed, I thought.