Chapter 2 – Moonlit Mercy
1042 Words
“Name."
The guard's voice cut through the tent like a blade.
Seph didn't look up from her mortar. “I'm called Mira."
A lie, of course. One of many.
The soldier grunted. “General's orders. You're not to leave this tent. Food and supplies will be brought in."
“I need access to the infirmary," Seph said calmly.
“You'll get what's sent."
“And if I refuse to treat him?"
The guard's hand hovered over his sword. “Then you'll be treated like the rebel scum you were caught with."
She said nothing more.
Outside, the Eclipse army readied for another assault. Marching orders barked, armor clanged, wolves howled. Seph ground her herbs in silence.
It wasn't the tent that caged her.
It was the man unconscious on the cot beside her.
Leo.
He lay still, fever sweat pooling at his brow, muscles tense even in sleep. His body fought the lunacy-fever, the kind that killed within hours if untreated.
Seph placed the cool compress over his ribs. He stirred.
“Don't move," she murmured.
He didn't respond. But his breathing hitched, as though his wolf stirred behind shuttered eyes.
She unwrapped the last bandage and flinched.
The poisoned wound was deeper than she thought. Black veins spidered out across his side, pulsing with cursed energy. Moon-madness. The very kind she was born to soothe.
She hesitated. Her hands shook.
His face was different now—scarred, sharper. But the eyes, the jawline... It was him.
Her guardian.
Her ruin.
“You don't remember," she whispered, “but I do."
She dipped her fingers into the silver salve and laid them gently on the fever lines. Moonlight shimmered beneath her skin, coaxed to the surface like breath drawn from an old wound.
At first, nothing happened.
Then the light coiled down her arms, into his chest.
Leo gasped.
His body convulsed once, twice—and then stilled.
The black veins receded.
The fever broke.
And for a moment, just a moment, he looked peaceful.
Seph stood quickly. She grabbed her satchel, tucked her vials and tools away with practiced urgency.
One more minute and she'd be gone.
But as she turned—
“Wait."
His voice was hoarse, gravelled by illness but unmistakably sharp.
She froze.
Leo pushed himself upright, sweat-slick and pale but alive. His gaze locked on her like a predator scenting blood.
“That scent," he rasped. “What is it?"
She turned her face away. “Just balm."
“No. It's something else. Lilies."
Her throat tightened.
He stood, wobbling slightly. “Where are you from, healer?"
“Nowhere."
“Don't lie to me."
“I never said I was honest."
His eyes narrowed. He took a step forward, swaying from weakness. “You remind me of someone."
“People say that a lot."
He reached for her wrist, and she jerked back. “Don't touch me."
The command startled them both.
Leo's eyes flickered—hurt? Confusion? Recognition?
Seph exhaled slowly. “You're still sick. Rest."
She turned toward the flap.
“You're not leaving," he said quietly. “Not until I know who you are."
“I'm no one," she whispered. “That's the safest answer."
He didn't reply.
When she finally dared to look back, he had sat down, one hand clutching his ribs, the other still outstretched toward her like he was trying to hold onto a dream.
---
Later that night, a soldier named Brynn ducked into the tent, carrying a tray.
“Your ration," he muttered, sliding it onto the table. He eyed Seph warily. “They say you stilled a berserker. That true?"
Seph didn't answer.
“Guess we should be grateful," Brynn said, voice sour. “Still strange, though. General's never let a woman near his bed since the Black Rebellion."
Her eyes lifted slowly. “Then maybe he should stop bleeding all over the sheets."
Brynn scowled but said no more.
When he left, Seph turned back to Leo, who'd fallen into a light sleep again.
She checked his temperature.
Normal.
But his fingers twitched in his sleep, and now and then he mumbled—words she recognized from their tribe's old prayers.
“Don't remember me," she whispered, brushing a damp lock from his forehead. “Not yet."
---
At dawn, Captain Cormac entered the tent.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and wore command like a second skin. His eyes were colder than Leo's, and that made Seph wary.
“You're the miracle healer," he said flatly.
She inclined her head. “Only when paid."
“I don't care what you are. Just keep him alive."
“I already did."
Cormac stepped closer. “Let's get something straight. If you're a spy, or worse—one of those Disaster-Star sympathizers—I'll gut you myself."
“I believe you."
“Good. Because I don't trust anyone who shows up with moonlight powers and no clan name."
She said nothing.
He lingered by the cot. “He's... different around you. I've seen him cut throats for less than what you said to him."
Seph's voice dropped. “Maybe he's starting to remember he had a heart once."
Cormac looked at her sharply.
Then he turned and left without another word.
---
That evening, as the army struck camp to move north, Leo called for her again.
“Sit," he said, gesturing to the stool beside him.
She obeyed.
He studied her face.
“You've changed your name. Why?"
“I've changed everything."
He nodded slowly. “Still. I know that scent. It's from a memory I can't reach."
Seph swallowed. “Some memories are better left buried."
He leaned closer. “Not this one."
For a moment, silence pressed between them.
Then, he said, “You'll ride with the vanguard. Under my protection."
Her heart skipped. “Why?"
“Because if you're lying about who you are, I'd rather keep the dagger close."
“And if I'm not lying?"
“Then I want to know why I dream of you."
She looked away.
“I'm not your dream, Leo. I'm your reckoning."
He stared at her like she'd struck him.
Outside, a cold wind howled through the valley.
The eclipse was drawing near.
And with it, their past.
- Writer
