The Lycan’s Witch Luna

Five

Lila

I am running through the woods. I could feel my legs giving up. My chest aching in pain, the air stinging my cheeks as I ran at full speed. It wasn’t over yet. They could still be after us.

Who’s besides me? Oh. Emma.

Her bright blue eyes are filled with horror. In the distance, the morning light is pulling out of the dark clouds. It's a day break.

We survived—the only survivors at that.

My legs give in. I collapse on the grass. My breath is ragged. I’m exhausted and I can’t move anymore.

Behind me, Emma is all out. She couldn’t keep up. I can feel the sun’s warmth on my skin. My vision is blurry.

I’m losing consciousness.

“Move Lila!” I tell myself. But it’s pointless.

And then, the sound of a car engine. It’s getting closer.

Footsteps. Men.

One is checking Emma’s pulse, the other is standing above me, the sunlight blocking his face. With my last hope, I stretch out my hand to him.

And then, those words ring in my ear once more.

“Mate.”

***

My eyes fluttered open and I mustered a groan. My head was pounding which made me shut my eyes once more. The headache doesn’t seem to go away, but it’s better than before.

I tried opening my eyes once more. The headache is gone, but my body is aching. I sighed and stared at the sky. But there was a ceiling instead. This prompted me to look at my surroundings.

I was in a room, the smell of fresh wood filling my lungs. There was movement at my side and I moved my head with much pain to see who it was.

It was a woman. She was about fifty with long white hair. She was pounding something in a mortar gently with her back to me. There was no doubt about it. She was a healer.

The memories of last night came crashing and I groaned once more holding my head. After running away, my memories became more hazy. The last thing I could remember was that annoying word.

“Mate.”

“Oh. You are awake,” she said without turning to face me.

I was speechless. My body was aching in pain and I could hardly move a muscle. So I lay down on the bed. It was comfy and the fabrics of the sheets were soft. It felt better than my bed back at Winthoven.

“Where am I?” I asked.

The woman finally turned to me. The rim of the little mortar in her hand was stained with ground herbs. I hoped that wasn’t going to go in me.

“Somewhere safe,” she replied.

I tried to move my body but she held my hand pulling me down to the bed. I looked up at her in confusion.

“You need some rest. You were seriously dehydrated when found. You also had bruises on your feet and wrists,” she said. “This ointment will help them heal quickly. But you’d need another day of rest before you can move,” she explained.

I nodded and lay back on the bed.

The healer’s words lingered in the air, her voice calm but firm, like she was used to giving orders to stubborn patients. My body ached, every muscle screaming as I lay on the soft bed, the scent of fresh wood and herbs grounding me.

I wanted to trust her assurance that I was “somewhere safe,” but the word Mate echoed in my mind, a haunting reminder of the Lycan and the chaos of last night. My chest tightened.

Where was I? And who had brought me here?

“Who found me?” I asked, my voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. My throat felt like sandpaper, but I needed answers.

The healer paused, her pestle hovering over the mortar, green-stained from whatever she was grinding. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, the door creaked open, heavy wood groaning on its hinges. A man stepped into the room, and the air shifted, charged with a presence that made my breath catch.

He was tall, his frame filling the doorway, with dark hair that fell in slight waves and green eyes that pierced through the dim light. There was something commanding about him, an aura that made the small room feel smaller, like he could bend the world to his will.

My heart fluttered, not just from intimidation but from a strange pull deep in my chest—a magnetic force drawing me toward him, despite the fear prickling my skin. I shrank back against the pillow, my bruised hands clutching the soft sheets.

“Alpha,” the healer said, her tone deferential, almost reverent.

My heart skipped a beat as I heard that.

Alpha. That meant that I was in a pack. I was in enemy territory.

I could feel my body trembling as I lay on the bed. If they found out who I was, I was going to get in so much trouble.

She started to speak again, but he raised a hand, silencing her without a glance.

His eyes were locked on me, intense and unreadable, like he was searching for something in my face.

“What happened to you?” he asked, his voice low, rough, like gravel underfoot. He stepped closer, and I felt that pull again, stronger now, urging me to move toward him, to close the distance. I fought it, digging my nails into the sheets.

“I found you on the road, half-dead. You and your friend.”

My mind raced, fragments of last night flashing—fire, smoke, the village in ruins. I couldn’t tell him the truth, not about Winthoven, not about the witches or the Lycan. If he was an Alpha, he was likely one of them—a Lycan himself. The word Mate pulsed in my head, and I swallowed hard, forcing a lie.

“I was running from… something. I don’t remember what.”

His eyes narrowed, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face, but he didn’t press. His silence was heavier than any question, like he could see through me but chose to let it slide. For now.

“Emma,” I blurted, my heart lurching as I remembered her blue eyes, wide with horror, in the woods. “My friend—where is she?”

“She’s safe,” he said, his tone softening just a fraction. “Rest. You both need it.”

He turned toward the door, his broad shoulders casting a shadow across the room.

“Wait,” I called, my voice steadier than I felt. “What’s your name?”

He paused, glancing back, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“I’ll tell you later.”

Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.