Embers Rise

CHAPTER 14: The Healer's Burden

"Healing wasn't just about mending flesh. Sometimes it was about mending the parts of us that had been shattered by grief."

The morning after my conversation with Kael, I found Eira in the healing shelter, her hands trembling over a wounded wolf.

The healing shelter was dim, lit only by the flicker of oil lamps. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and blood, and the faint sound of labored breathing filled the space. Bundles of dried sage and lavender hung from the rafters, their sweet, earthy fragrance mixing with the metallic tang of fresh wounds.

It was Orin—the young scout who had been nearly torn apart in the border attack. He was healing slowly, too slowly, his body fighting off an infection that had settled deep in his wounds.

Eira's face was pale, her brow furrowed with concentration. Golden light flickered from her palms, weak and unsteady. She was trying to heal him, but the infection was winning.

"It's not working," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I can't... I can't do this."

I stepped forward, my voice soft. "Eira. Let me help."

She looked up at me, her eyes red-rimmed and glassy. "I'm sorry, Luna. I've tried everything. I can't... I can't heal him."

I knelt beside her, placing my hand over hers. "You can. You just need to believe in yourself."

She shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "My father could have healed him. He was the best healer in the pack. And they killed him because he was too kind. Too gentle. I'm not like him. I'm weak. I'm broken."

I remembered the day they killed him. I was seven. They dragged him into the square, accused him of being weak. I cried for him to run. He didn't. He just smiled at me. And then they—

I felt Ember stir in my chest, and before I could stop it, I heard Eira's thoughts.

...I should have been there... I should have protected him... they killed him because he was weak... because I was weak... I'll never be strong enough...

I pulled back, my heart aching. Eira's grief was a living thing, a wound that had never healed. She blamed herself for her father's death.

"Eira," I said softly. "Your father wasn't weak. He was strong—strong enough to be kind. And you're just like him."

She looked up at me, her eyes wide. "How do you know?"

I hesitated. I hadn't told her about my mind-reading ability. But I couldn't lie to her.

"I can hear your thoughts sometimes," I admitted. "I didn't mean to. But I felt your pain. Your guilt."

She stared at me, her face pale. "You can read minds?"

"Yes." I met her gaze. "And I know you blame yourself for your father's death. But it wasn't your fault. You were just a pup."

She shook her head, her voice breaking. "I should have been there. I should have—"

"Eira." I took her hands, squeezing them gently. "You were a child. There was nothing you could have done. Your father didn't die because you were weak. He died because he loved too much. And that's not a weakness, it's a strength."

I knelt beside Orin, pressing my hand to his chest. I let my healing light flow into him, golden and bright, pushing back the infection that had taken hold. I felt his body respond, the wounds beginning to close.

"Eira," I said softly. "I need your help. I can't do this alone."

She looked at me, her eyes filled with doubt. "I can't. I'll only make it worse."

"No, you won't." I met her gaze. "I believe in you. Now you need to believe in yourself."

She stared at me for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded.

She placed her hands beside mine, and I guided her power, letting it flow into Orin's body. The light was faint at first, hesitant. But as Eira began to trust herself, it grew brighter.

"Feel the power," I said softly. "Feel it flowing through you. You're not weak, Eira. You're strong. You're your father's daughter. And he would be so proud of you."

She sobbed, the sound raw and broken. But she didn't pull away. She pushed harder, her power surging through her.

As the light grew brighter, I felt something shift inside her. A crack in the wall she'd built around her heart. A small, fragile hope—that maybe she wasn't weak after all.

The golden light consumed Orin's wounds. I felt the infection retreat, and when I pulled back, his skin was smooth and unblemished.

Orin's eyes fluttered open, and he looked at Eira with wonder. "You saved me," he whispered.

She shook her head, tears falling. "We saved you."

Eira collapsed beside me, her body trembling. "I did it," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder. "I actually did it."

I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close. "You did. And I'm so proud of you."

We stayed in the healing shelter for hours, tending to the other wounded wolves. Eira was hesitant at first, but as she healed each wolf, her confidence grew.

"Thank you," she said softly, as we walked back to the fire pit that evening. "I've been carrying that guilt for so long. I thought I was weak. I thought I was broken."

"You're not broken," I said gently. "You're healing. And that's all any of us can do."

She smiled—a genuine smile, fragile but real.

"Luna," she said softly. "Thank you for believing in me."

"Always," I said. "That's what family does."

Eira squeezed my hand. "Thank you, Luna. For showing me that I'm not broken."

I squeezed back. "None of us are broken. We're just healing."

That night, I sat by the fire, staring into the flames. Eira's grief had stirred something in me—a reminder of why I'd become Luna. It wasn't just about leading the pack. It was about caring for them. Healing them. Helping them find their strength.

Eira's grief stirred something in me. A reminder that I was still healing too. That my own wounds—Damon's betrayal, Lila's cruelty—still ached beneath the surface.

I pressed a hand to my chest, where the ache of Damon's betrayal still lingered. Some wounds took longer to heal.

I thought of Kael, his patience, his waiting. He was healing too, in his own way.

She needed to see her own strength, Ember said softly. And you gave her that.

I shook my head. "I just reminded her of who she was. She found her strength herself."

That's what makes you a good Luna.

I looked up at the stars, something shifting in my chest. But even as I found peace, I felt a whisper of unease. The rogue's words still echoed: someone from the east. I couldn't forget.

I didn't have all the answers. I didn't know what was coming next.

But I knew, in that moment, that I was exactly where I was meant to be.