Katrina's POV
The shaman’s hut smelled of burning herbs and damp earth, the air thick with the weight of anticipation.
We were all assembled in a tight circle, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows on the walls.
A heavy silence loomed over us, broken only by the distant howls of wolves outside. My heart pounded as I watched Adolphus pace the room restlessly. Something was coming. We all felt it.
A sharp knock at the door made everyone freeze. The shaman, who had been stirring a bowl of thick, black liquid, set it down carefully and walked to the door.
She exchanged hushed words with the messenger before turning back to us with a solemn expression. “Excuse me,” she murmured and stepped outside.
As soon as she was gone, Adolphus seized the opportunity to drag me to the corner of the hut, his grip firm yet urgent.
His golden eyes bore into mine, intense and searching. “Katrina, have you discovered any of your powers yet?”
I frowned, my mind immediately flashing back to the battle with the Rogue Alpha. The fight had been brutal. He had been nearly impossible to defeat—until I slipped the ring onto my finger.
At that moment, something inside me had awakened. A raw, untamed power surged through my veins. With just a single push, his guards had collapsed like fallen leaves in a storm.
“I have the power of strength,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
Adolphus studied me carefully. “What about healing?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t discovered anything like that.”
Without warning, he grabbed a knife from the wooden table beside us and, before I could stop him, sliced his wrist open. The blade gleamed under the candlelight as blood immediately welled and dripped onto the dirt floor.
I gasped. “Adolphus!”
He extended his bleeding hand toward me, his voice steady. “Heal me.”
I was still in shock. “Why would you do that?” I snapped, panic flaring in my chest. “That was reckless!”
“I had to,” he said, his jaw set in determination. “Katrina, you might need to use all of your powers—including the Lunar Flame—very soon. We don’t have time to wait and see if they reveal themselves naturally.” He exhaled sharply. “I believe you have healing abilities, just like your mother did.”
I swallowed hard, staring at the deep gash on his wrist. He was serious. He truly believed I could heal him. But what if I couldn’t? What if I failed?
“Adolphus, what if—”
“You can do this,” he said firmly. “Trust yourself.”
I took a shaky breath and closed my eyes. The scent of his blood filled my nose, making my stomach churn. My hands trembled as I reached for his injured wrist. Desperation clawed at me. I needed this to work.
I placed my palm over the wound, ignoring the warmth of his blood against my skin. I concentrated, searching deep within myself.
My lips moved on their own, forming words I didn’t recognize, an ancient chant that came from somewhere deep inside me.
A surge of energy spread from my chest to my fingertips, and then a golden light burst from my hands.
The wound on Adolphus’s wrist began to mend itself, the torn flesh knitting back together. My breath hitched as I watched the impossible unfold before my eyes.
When the glow faded, his wrist was completely healed.
I stumbled backward, my heart hammering in my chest. “I… I did it,” I whispered in disbelief.
Adolphus grinned, flexing his hand. “I knew you could.”
Before I could process what had just happened, the door to the hut burst open, and the shaman rushed inside. Her eyes were wide with urgency, her grip tight around a folded letter in her hand.
Adolphus and I exchanged a glance before he moved toward her. “What’s wrong?”
The shaman’s hands trembled as she tried to steady herself. “A message… from the Crimson Pack.”
My stomach twisted as I took a step closer. “What does it say?”