Aria
When I opened my eyes, the ceiling was unfamiliar. White linen curtains moved softly in the breeze. The scent of burning sage filled the air. I was in the healer’s den—again.
I blinked slowly, my body heavy, like something was weighing me down from the inside.
“Don’t move too fast.”
The healer’s voice drifted from the corner of the room. She approached with a soft cloth in one hand and a calm smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“You collapsed during the ceremony,” she said gently. “Matthew brought you here right away.”
“What happened?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
She glanced at the glowing stones beside my bed—monitoring spells, heart stones, and vials of blood lined neatly on the tray.
“We don’t know yet,” she admitted. “We ran tests. Physical, magical, even a few old spells from the moon archives. But nothing’s conclusive.”
I sat up slowly, my hands trembling against the blanket. “Then what’s wrong with me?”
The healer paused, then pulled a stool close and sat beside me. Her expression shifted from professional to maternal, like she was about to tell me something I wouldn’t understand until I lived it.
“Sometimes,” she began slowly, “the body doesn’t follow logic. It follows life.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
She looked me in the eye, her voice low but firm.
“I mean… you may want to consider the possibility of life, Aria.”
My heart stopped.
Life?
Her eyes softened. “Your body is changing. Your energy is shifting. Not violently. Not dangerously. But in a way that suggests… something is forming. Something new.”
I stared at her, unable to breathe, let alone respond. Not a prophecy. Not a curse. But maybe… a child?
“I need some air,” I said, voice trembling.
She didn’t stop me. She just nodded and touched my hand gently. “Take your time.”
While I sat frozen, Matthew unraveled. I heard the whispers through the door. He hadn’t slept.
He’d left the healer’s den after pacing for hours, only to return minutes later demanding new reports. He’d checked every border. Questioned the guards. Reinforced the gates himself.
And when the healer tried to calm him, he snapped.
“If something’s wrong,” he said, voice rough with desperation, “I’ll burn the whole forest down to fix it.”
He meant it.
That night, when I finally returned to the Luna quarters, the room was dark, quiet. The fire had burned low, casting soft shadows across the walls.
I stood in the doorway, unsure if I was ready to face him. Unsure if I was ready to face anything.
But something caught my eye on the floor.
A slip of paper. I bent down and picked it up, my fingers already shaking. There was no signature. No seal. Just five words.
Elias knows. He’s coming back.