Chapter2 The cost of light
1159 Words
I woke up in a cloud.
A soft, scented cloud that was nothing like the mildew and blood stench of the lower levels.
For a disoriented second, I thought I’d died.
“You’re awake.”
The Head Elder stood at the foot of the bed, white-robed medics behind him like a ghost.
“The results are conclusive,” he said.
“You possess a latent ability, Thea. Once we have no record of it. You can soothe the feral madness. You are, by the Moon’s grace, our ‘Saint Healer.’”
A laugh caught in my dry throat.
Saint Healer?
Yesterday, gutter trash and today, a Saint?
The promotion was… creative.
“You will be moved to the high tower. All your needs are attended to. No more labor work.”
It sounded so generous, tasted like ash.
“Can I refuse?” I asked.
He blinked. “Why would you? This is the highest honor.”
“Because I don’t want to be a tool.”
“A tool?” He chuckled, condescending.
“We are protecting you. Preserving a vital asset.”
“Can I leave my room?”
“Can I refuse to heal someone?”
“Thea,” his voice hardened.
“The pack is at war. Your ability is a strategic necessity. This is for the greater good.”
The greater good.
The ultimate excuse for every kind of s*****y.
“I understand,” I whispered.
There was no fight in me yet.
Just a deep, cold emptiness.
The room in the tower was beautiful.
Sunlight is direct to the balcony.
And a real bed.
I tried the door. It was unlocked.
Two armored guards snapped to attention. “Saint Healer. You are to rest.”
“I’m a prisoner.”
“You are under protection,” one corrected me.
I closed the door and leaned against the wall.
A cage of silk instead of filth.
Good, at least some progress.
That night, the screaming started.
The raw, agonized roars of a beast in endless pain.
They shook the stones of the tower.
I went to the window.
The high-security infirmary was ablaze with light.
“Another one,” a guard muttered outside my door.
“The War God. Evan. He’s been fighting it for three days. Won’t let anyone near. He’ll burn out his own heart.”
I went back to bed and pulled the pillow over my head.
It didn’t help.
At dawn, the Elder returned.
“Thea. We need you.”
“Evan?” I asked.
“His condition is terminal. You are our only hope.”
“And if I say no?”
His face turned to stone.
“Thea…”
“The greater good. I know.” I sat up.
Part of me was morbidly curious.
What was this power?
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
They took me to a reinforced cell.
Inside, a man was chained with rune-etched silver.
He was shirtless, a landscape of scars and fresh wounds.
A silver hoop gleamed in his left ear.
He lifted his head; his eyes were pure, pain-maddened gold.
This wasn’t just rage.
This was a soul in a shredder.
“Open the door,” I said.
“He’ll kill you—”
“Open it.”
The Elder nodded, grim.
The bolt slid back.
Evan moved.
A blur.
Claws ripped across my shoulder before I saw him move.
White-hot fire.
I didn’t retreat.
I stepped forward and slammed my palm against his chest.
Golden light.
But this time… it pulled me under.
I stood in a field of crimson mud under a bleeding sky.
Corpses everywhere.
A boy, maybe seven, knelt sobbing over a woman’s body. A silver hoop in her ear.
“Mama… don’t go…”
The scene shattered.
The boy was now a man, a giant standing on a mountain of the dead.
His eyes were empty.
“Evan…” I whispered.
He whirled. “GET OUT!”
“I’m here to help.”
“I DON’T NEED IT!” The memory-world shook.
“You’re drowning.”
He lunged. I didn’t run. I opened my arms and let him come. When he struck, I wrapped myself around him and held on.
The golden light flared, brighter than the sun, pouring into the frozen cracks of his soul.
In the real world, my body was failing.
A terrible weakness.
Warmth spilled from my nose, my ears.
I was burning myself up to fuel this.
But I couldn’t stop.
If I let go, he died.
Hold on.
Slowly, the tension in his body eased.
The madness receded from his eyes, leaving storm-gray exhaustion.
I pulled my hand back, my legs giving out.
I fell.
But I didn’t hit the floor. Evan’s arms caught me.
He looked down at my bloody, broken state. Something in his icy gaze shattered.
Something like… horror.
“You…” his voice was raw.
“Told you…” I mumbled, before darkness took me.
I woke up in my soft bed.
And I knew.
The world was gone.
“Thea?” It was a servant’s voice, nervous.
“I can’t see.”
A long, terrible pause， she cleared her voice and said, “The healers… said the strain… your sight might return.”
Might?
The most useless word in the world.
“How is Evan?” I asked, pushing my panic down.
“Stable. He’s… outside your door. Refuses to leave until he sees you.”
“Let him in.”
The door opened.
Heavy, deliberate footsteps.
“What are you waiting for?” I asked.
“Because now you owe me a life?”
My voice was thin but clear in the darkness.
“And I collect. I will pay it,” he said, each word a vow.
“With my life, I promise.” The footsteps retreated.
Later, the roaring started again.
Right outside my room.
“Your Majesty, you can’t—”
The door burst open.
Victor’s scent—pine, iron, cold fury—filled the room.
His footsteps stalked to my bedside.
“You look pathetic,” he said.
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” I rasped.
“It wasn’t a compliment. I need to know if my asset is still functional.”
“Disappointed I’m not dead?”
A hand grabbed my chin, forcing my head up. His grip was brutal.
“Don’t think saving the War God makes you special. You’re just a tool. Remember your place.”
“Then why are you here?” I whispered.
“Tools don’t get personal inspections.”
His grip tightened. “You little bitch.”
“Or maybe,” I breathed into the darkness between us, “you’re starting to realize I’m not just a tool?”
He released me like I was a piece of trash.
I heard him stride to the door, then stopped.
“Don’t you dare die for me,” he growled and slammed the door.
- Writer
