Aria’s POV
The warrior stood up.
He didn’t just sit up—he *stood.* Full weight on both legs, the grey pallor gone from his face, breathing steady and deep. He looked down at his arm, turned it over slowly, like he was waiting for the pain to co back.
It didn’t.
"I—" He looked at . "Luna, I don’t understand. What did you do?"
I didn’t have an answer.
Because I didn’t know what I’d done.
My hand was still warm—not hot, just warm, the way your skin feels after holding sothing that radiates heat. But the warmth was fading now, pulling back into my chest, settling sowhere deep behind my ribs.
"I don’t know," I said honestly.
The other warriors were watching. All of them. The ones who could sit up had sat up. The ones who couldn’t were staring from their beds, eyes wide and locked on like I’d just perford a miracle in the middle of their ward.
Maybe I had.
I stood up slowly. Looked around the room. Forty-three injured warriors, all of them fighting wolfsbane poisoning, all of them healing too slowly, all of them looking at like I might be able to fix it.
I walked to the next bed.
A younger warrior—early twenties, maybe. Dark hair, pale skin, bandaging across his ribs and left shoulder. He watched approach with the kind of careful stillness that ant he was trying very hard not to hope.
"May I?" I asked.
He nodded.
I placed my hand over the bandaging on his shoulder.
Waited.
Felt for that warmth again, that pull in my chest that had co so easily with the first warrior.
Nothing.
I pressed a little harder. Concentrated. Tried to summon whatever it was I’d just done—whatever instinct or ability or gift that had flowed out of without asking.
Nothing.
The warrior’s breathing stayed shallow. The grey tinge to his skin didn’t change. The bandaging didn’t stop seeping.
I pulled my hand back.
"I’m sorry," I said quietly.
"It’s okay, Luna." His voice was rough but kind. "It was worth trying."
I moved to the next bed. And the next. And the next.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
By the ti I’d tried with the fifth warrior, my hands were shaking.
Not from exhaustion—from frustration. From the feeling of sothing being *right there,* just out of reach, like trying to rember a word that sits on the tip of your tongue and refuses to co forward.
I’d done it once. I *knew* I’d done it. I’d felt it happen, seen the results with my own eyes.
So why couldn’t I do it again?
---
I left the dical post twenty minutes later.
The receptionist didn’t ask questions. Just gave a long look and a nod, and I walked back out into the afternoon light feeling like I’d swallowed sothing heavy.
The drive ho was quiet.
I should have told soone I was going to the checkpoint. I should have coordinated with Kael’s security team. I should have done about fifteen things differently.
But I’d healed soone.
That thought sat with the whole way back, turning over and over in my mind. The look on that warrior’s face. The way the bleeding had stopped. The way the color had co back into his skin like soone had flipped a switch.
Moon Goddess had said I was special. That I had a gift. That there was sothing in that could help.
Maybe this was it.
Maybe this was what she’d ant.
---
Kael was ho when I got back.
He was in the main room, standing by the window with his phone to his ear. He glanced up when I walked in, and sothing in his expression shifted—relief first, then sothing sharper.
He said sothing clipped into the phone and hung up.
"Where were you?" His voice was carefully controlled.
I set my bag down. "The eastern checkpoint."
Silence.
I looked up.
His face had gone very still.
"You went to the checkpoint," he said slowly. "Alone."
"I wasn’t alone. There were guards. And the dical staff—"
"Aria." He crossed the room in four strides. Stopped in front of , close enough that I had to tilt my head back to et his eyes. "The front lines are under active threat. We’ve had three attacks in the past week. The eastern checkpoint is one of the most vulnerable positions we have right now." His voice stayed level, but sothing underneath it was vibrating. "You don’t go there without security. You don’t go there without telling first. You don’t—" He stopped. Exhaled hard through his nose. "What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking," I said, keeping my voice steady, "that I wanted to help."
"Help how?"
"By being there. By—" I stopped. Took a breath. "By seeing them. The warriors. The ones who are hurt."
His expression didn’t soften. "You could have been hurt."
"I wasn’t hurt."
"You could have been."
"Kael—"
"You’re pregnant, Aria." The words ca out rougher than I think he ant them to. "You’re carrying our child. You can’t just—" He gestured vaguely, like he was trying to encompass the entirety of what I’d just done. "You can’t take risks like that."
Sothing flared in my chest.
"I’m not made of glass," I said quietly.
"I didn’t say you were."
"You’re treating like I am."
He looked at for a long mont. His jaw was tight. His hands were pressed flat against his sides, like he was physically holding himself in place.
"I’m treating you," he said finally, "like soone I can’t lose."
The words landed between us.
I felt them land—felt the weight of them, the truth underneath them, the fear he was trying very hard not to let take over.
My anger softened.
Just a little.
"I know," I said. "I know you’re worried. But Kael—" I reached out, touched his arm. "I healed soone today."
He blinked. "What?"
"One of the warriors. At the dical post." I kept my hand on his arm, felt the tension running through him like a current. "I put my hand on his bandaging and—sothing happened. I don’t know how to explain it. But the bleeding stopped. The color ca back to his face. He stood up and walked around and he was *fine.*"
Kael stared at .
I watched the information process across his face. Confusion first. Then sothing like wonder. Then sothing darker—concern, maybe, or caution.
"You healed him," he said.
"Yes."
"How?"
"I don’t know." I shook my head. "I just—felt sothing. This warmth, in my chest, and then it moved through my hands and—" I stopped. "It worked. I saw it work."
He was quiet for a mont.
Then he said: "Did you try it again?"
"Yes."
"And?"
I looked down. "Nothing. I tried with five other warriors and nothing happened."
"So it only worked once."
"So far."
He turned away. Paced to the window. Stood there with his back to , hands in his pockets, that particular tension still running through his shoulders.
"Maybe it’s connected to what Moon Goddess told you," I said. "In the dream. She said I was special. That I had a gift. That I could help." I moved closer. "Maybe this is it. Maybe if I can figure out how to control it—if I can learn to use it properly—"
"Then what?" He turned back around. "Then you heal all forty-three warriors in that dical post? Then you go to the northern checkpoint and do it there too?"
"Maybe."
"Aria—"
"Kael, listen to ." I crossed to him. Stood directly in front of him so he had to look at . "You’re carrying all of this. The attacks, the defectors, the injuries, the threat from your father—all of it, on your shoulders, every day. And I’ve been sitting here feeling useless." My voice cracked slightly. I pushed through it. "Let help. Let do sothing that actually matters."
"You matter," he said. "You being safe matters."
"I know. But I can be safe *and* useful."
"Not on the front lines."
"I’m not asking to fight. I’m asking to heal."
"It’s the sa thing." His voice went harder. "The mont you step into that space, you beco a target. My father knows about you now. He knows what you an to . Do you understand what that makes you?"
"Leverage," I said quietly.
"Exactly." He cupped my face with both hands. "So forgive if I’m not enthusiastic about putting you in the most vulnerable position we have."
I held his gaze. "What if this is why Moon Goddess brought back? What if this gift—whatever it is—what if it’s ant for this?"
"Or what if it’s ant for sothing else entirely and we don’t know yet?"
"Then we figure it out together."
"Aria—"
"Kael, please." I put my hands over his. "I need to do this. Not just for the warriors. For . For—" I stopped. "Moon Goddess said if I used my gift, my wolf would co back. That’s what she said. If I can figure out how to make this work—really work—maybe Artemis will wake up."
His expression changed.
That got through.
I could see it—the mont the argunt shifted from *keeping you safe* to *getting your wolf back.*
He wanted that for . I knew he did. He’d seen what it cost , carrying this pregnancy without Artemis, being cut off from the part of myself that had been there since I was eighteen. He’d held through the nightmares, the phantom pains, the loneliness of it.
He wanted her back almost as much as I did.
"How do you want to do this?" he asked finally.
Hope flared in my chest. "Let co with you. To the checkpoints. To the etings. Let see what’s happening on the front lines—"
"No."
The word ca out flat. Final.
I blinked. "Kael—"
"Absolutely not."
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