chapter two: The healer's secret
1033 Words
The moment Lyia disappeared into the shadows, Ronald felt something inside him fracture.
The burning mate bond still clawed at his chest, but now, doubt festered in its place.
His mate—the woman fate had chosen for him—had been bound to the witch’s son.
And now, she was hiding something. Something dark.
Ronald took a deep breath, his mind reeling. He needed answers.
And if Lyia wouldn’t give them to him…
He would find them elsewhere.
With Evelyn.
***
Evelyn worked alone in her healer’s tent, grinding herbs into fine dust. The candlelight flickered around her, shadows dancing along the walls.
She had felt it.
The moment Ronald had kissed Lyia, something inside Evelyn had stirred.
A strange energy had awakened deep in her veins, something she had buried for years. Something she had feared.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for another vial.
She had been so careful. So careful to hide what she was.
But tonight, something was changing.
A chill crawled up her spine.
Then the tent’s flap was pushed open, and Ronald stepped inside.
He was breathless, his body tense, his stormy eyes locked onto her.
The energy inside Evelyn coiled tight.
Something had happened. And she knew it had to do with Lyia.
"You shouldn’t be here," she said quietly, turning away.
Ronald’s voice was rough. Desperate. "I need answers, Evelyn."
She hesitated, but he stepped closer, his towering presence making her breath hitch.
"You calm the curse," he said, his tone unreadable. "Every time I’m near you, the pain fades. Why?"
Evelyn swallowed hard. "I don’t know."
"Don’t lie to me."
Her heart pounded. She had spent years hiding the truth, pretending to be nothing more than a healer. But now, Ronald was forcing her to stand at the edge of a truth she wasn’t ready to face.
His hand reached for her wrist.
The moment he touched her, the air shifted.
A surge of warmth spread through Evelyn’s skin, traveling straight to her chest.
The pain inside Ronald disappeared.
His eyes widened. "Evelyn…"
Her throat tightened. She knew what he was thinking.
What if she was his mate instead of Lyia?
But before she could speak, a whisper—**low and deadly—brushed against her mind.
"You’re slipping, little one."
Evelyn’s body went rigid. The witch.
No. Not now. Not here.
A cold sweat broke out along her back as a dark voice echoed in her thoughts.
"You think you can hide from me forever?"
Evelyn gasped, her knees buckling. Ronald caught her instantly, his arms strong and steady.
Her body shuddered as the darkness slithered through her veins, threatening to rise.
"I made you, child. You are mine."
Evelyn clenched her jaw, forcing the magic down. She had done it before. She could do it again.
Ronald’s grip on her tightened. "Evelyn, what’s happening?"
She looked up into his eyes, knowing she should lie. Knowing she should push him away.
But instead, her walls crumbled.
"Ronald…" her voice broke. "I think I’m cursed, too.
Ronald stared at her, stunned.
Evelyn—his healer, his calm in the storm—was cursed?
His pulse thundered. "Tell me everything."
Evelyn took a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around his wrist like an anchor. "I was born… different. Half-human, half-werewolf. But that’s not all."
She swallowed hard.
"My mother… she wasn’t human either."
Ronald's entire body stiffened.
Evelyn’s voice was barely a whisper.
"My mother was the witch."
The words struck like a blade to the gut.
Ronald released her, stepping back. No. That wasn’t possible.
The witch—the one who had cursed him, who had bound him to a fate worse than death—had a daughter?
And that daughter was Evelyn.
His throat tightened. "You’re lying."
Evelyn’s hands clenched into fists, pain flashing in her eyes. "I wish I was."
Ronald exhaled sharply, pacing. His thoughts were a whirlwind.
Evelyn was the witch’s daughter.
Was that why her touch soothed his curse? Because her blood carried the same magic that had damned him?
He turned back to her, his wolf growling low in his chest. "If that’s true, why are you here? Why didn’t you run back to her?"
Her gaze darkened. "Because she never wanted me."
Ronald frowned.
Evelyn’s jaw clenched. "I wasn’t powerful enough for her. When I was born, she looked at me and saw a failure. A child with too much human blood to be of any use."
Bitterness laced her words. "So she left me to die. If it hadn’t been for my father, I wouldn’t be standing here."
Ronald didn’t speak. He could feel her pain, raw and deep.
She lifted her gaze to meet his. "I spent my whole life trying to be normal. Trying to prove I wasn’t like her. But tonight, when you kissed Lyia, I felt something in me wake up."
She hesitated. "And I’m afraid."
Ronald’s breath was uneven. "Afraid of what?"
Evelyn closed her eyes. "Afraid that I’m just like her. Afraid that my magic won’t save you—it will destroy you."
Silence stretched between them.
Ronald should have felt betrayed. He should have been furious.
Instead… he felt something else.
A pull. A deep, aching pull toward the woman who had spent her life hiding from her own power.
Slowly, he reached out, tilting her chin up. Her breath hitched.
"You are not her," he murmured. "Whatever darkness is inside you—you control it. Not the other way around."
Evelyn’s lips parted. "You don’t understand. The witch doesn’t just want revenge on you, Ronald. She wants to use me to do it."
Ronald tensed.
"She wants me to be the one who breaks you."
His jaw clenched. "Then we make sure she never gets that chance."
For the first time in years, Evelyn let herself believe that maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t alone.
But outside the healer’s tent, in the shadows of the trees, someone was watching.
And as the wind howled through the night, a whisper drifted through the air—a dark promise from the witch herself.
"You cannot fight fate, my child."
"When the time comes, you will choose me."
- Writer
