The Healing Moon
1196 Words
The sun had dipped below the horizon, and twilight bled across the sky like a bruise. The castle walls no longer felt like a cage to Raina but a shelter — a safe haven wrapped in silence and moonlight.
Still, the ache in her chest hadn’t eased completely. Pain had a strange way of clinging to the soul, even after the wounds stopped bleeding.
She sat alone by the balcony overlooking the quiet forest. A warm breeze fluttered through her loose hair, and the smell of wild jasmine drifted in. Her knees were drawn to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, as if trying to keep the broken pieces of herself from falling apart again.
She hadn’t cried since she arrived at the palace. Not truly. Not openly.
She hadn’t allowed herself the luxury of unraveling.
Until tonight.
It started as a dull tightness in her chest, a pressure she’d pushed aside day after day. But now, in the stillness, it broke free. Tears slid down her cheeks, silent and unrelenting, like a flood she could no longer contain.
For all the strength she had shown, all the brave faces she had worn, Raina was still a girl who had been rejected by the one person meant to love her the most. She had been humiliated. Abandoned. Stripped of her identity.
And yet, somehow, she was still standing.
“I shouldn’t still care,” she whispered to no one, voice cracking. “I shouldn’t…”
But she did. And that was the truth.
The sound of footsteps behind her made her freeze. She didn’t turn — she didn’t want anyone to see her like this. Raw. Cracked open.
But she didn’t need to look to know who it was.
King Theron’s scent was unmistakable — earthy, ancient, and tinged with something warm. Something like safety.
He said nothing at first. Just stood there in silence, giving her space. Respecting her unspoken walls.
And then, gently, he stepped beside her and sat down. Not too close. Not too far.
“I can leave, if you’d prefer,” he said softly.
Raina wiped her face, embarrassed. “No. It’s fine.”
Theron didn’t press. He didn’t ask why she was crying. He didn’t offer empty words or false comfort.
He just sat beside her, letting her exist. Letting her grieve.
After a long moment, she spoke. “Do you think it ever stops hurting? The rejection?”
He was quiet for a breath. Then he answered, his voice low and even. “No. But it becomes… quieter. Like a scar. The pain dulls. You learn to live around it.”
She nodded slowly, eyes still glistening. “I hate that he still has a piece of me.”
Theron turned his head toward her. “He doesn’t. Not really.”
Raina met his eyes then. “How do you know?”
“Because you’re not the same woman who knelt in the dirt, waiting for his love. That woman is gone. The one sitting here now—she’s stronger. She’s surviving. Healing. He doesn’t own your pain, Raina. You do. And when you’re ready, you’ll turn it into something powerful.”
His words settled over her like a blanket. Warm. Comforting. True.
“I thought I’d be angry forever,” she whispered.
“You will be. Sometimes. But one day, the anger will pass too. And what’s left… will be yours alone.”
A long silence followed. Not awkward. Just… peaceful.
Raina exhaled slowly, some of the weight on her chest lifting. Not gone, but lighter.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice steadier than before.
Theron smiled — a rare, soft curve of his lips that made him look almost human. Almost vulnerable.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “You’re doing the hard part.”
Healing.
The word echoed in her heart like a prayer.
For a while, they sat in silence, watching as the moon rose high above the trees, bathing the world in silver.
Then, softly, she asked, “Why do you care?”
Theron looked at her, his gaze unreadable. “Because I know what it feels like to be broken by people who were supposed to protect you. And I know how long it takes to learn you’re still worthy of love.”
Her breath caught.
“You were rejected too?” she asked, surprised.
“In a way,” he said quietly. “Not by a mate. By my people. My family. My crown. There are many ways to be abandoned.”
Raina felt a shift in the air. As if something between them had cracked open — not in pain, but in understanding.
“I thought kings didn’t get broken,” she said, a soft smile tugging at her lips.
He huffed a quiet laugh. “Kings are made from broken things. That’s what makes us dangerous.”
She looked at him for a long moment, and for the first time, saw not just the Alpha King — but the man beneath the title. The man who had bled and lost. Who had chosen to rise instead of rot.
“I think that’s what I want,” she said suddenly.
“What?”
“To rise. Not for revenge. Not for him. For me.”
Theron turned to her fully, his eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight. “Then you already have.”
A silence fell again, but this one was full — rich with something unspoken. A thread connecting them, gently woven through shared scars.
Raina stood slowly, wiping the last of her tears.
“Come,” Theron said, rising beside her. “Let me show you something.”
She followed him through the palace, down winding halls and into a garden she hadn’t seen before. It was glowing under the moonlight — lilies, vines, and soft moss covering the earth like a dream.
In the center stood a stone pool, clear as crystal. Theron walked to the edge and looked back at her.
“This is the Moon’s Mirror,” he said. “We use it to reflect, to let go. Step forward.”
Raina hesitated, then moved to the pool and gazed down.
Her reflection shimmered on the surface. Eyes red but bright. Shoulders tense but upright. She barely recognized herself.
And that was the point.
Theron’s voice came again. “Say what you want to leave behind.”
She swallowed. Her voice wavered as she spoke. “I leave behind the girl who waited for love that never came. The one who believed she wasn’t enough. I leave behind the pain… and the pieces of myself that belonged to him.”
The pool shimmered. The water rippled — not from wind, but from something unseen. Something ancient.
She felt lighter. Cleaner. As if her soul had exhaled.
Theron stepped beside her, his hand brushing hers. Not a command. An offer.
“I’ll be here,” he said softly. “However long it takes.”
Raina didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.
She looked up at the moon, her heart no longer heavy with grief — but with something else.
Hope.
- Writer
