The Lycan King's Healer
The Lycan King’s Healer – Chapter 2

Soon, I would become just another cobweb upon the floor.

My body was barren of a soul, for it felt like I floated slightly above my carcass, my ghost lingering just long enough to know I was dead. Death is a funny thing like that; with some deaths, like executions or freak accidents, some people are killed before they even know it. But gradual death, the kind that slowly envelopes you with starvation and disease; it lets you know every detail.

I knew my body lay emaciated on the ground, twisted and grotesque. Skin hanging off the bone, so thin that there would be no meat for the rodents to feast on. Dwindling, seemingly melting. Empty, devoid of my own life. The only thing left was the other living being inside of me; the pup, my kin that I would never meet.

Maybe if I was not pregnant, I would have let myself float away, out of this cottage and this pained body and into the sky. Into bliss away from this cruel world where I have been tricked and fated into a torturous death. There would be no reason to stay.

Except there was.

“Wake up,” I willed myself desperately, to my sunken and sallow body. “You can’t die. If you die, the baby will die.”

And Emily will win. An anger ripped through my soul–she is not only killing me, but my baby.

“Please, wake up!” I shouted into the void. Into my withering body.

I did not awaken.

At that moment, I suddenly wished I had someone to call out to besides myself. I had no one, not even one soul searching for me. The only person who knew I was even still existent was Emily’s servant, who had been watching me slowly die. He did agree to inform Aldrich that I had important news to tell him—I didn’t know why he would agree to a nicety, for his mission was for me to die, but I guess he preserved some guilt.

It didn’t matter; Aldrich never came.

What did I do wrong to deserve any of this? Why must this be my fate, left here to suffer as my baby slowly dies with me?

Despite the weakness and the emptiness, my soul managed to harbor a fiery and ravaging hate. Loathing consumed me, and I wished I could burn this cottage down with it. I wished I could burn Aldrich and Emily alive with it. I hated them–not for my pathetic self, but for my child.

The pup will die. Aldrich did not mark me, so our child was not remotely stabilized. I wished it would be him to die instead.

Defeat threatened to wash over me, but instead the desperation prospered. I was desperate to rescue my baby. The only thing in the world that I loved. Maybe I couldn’t rescue myself, but that didn’t mean he or she had to suffer with me.

Because desperate people turn to faith, I silently prayed to the Moon Goddess as the pain worsened. My soul would be ripped into pieces by it soon. She was the one who forced this fate upon me, the one who coaxed me into marrying such a monster.

Moon Goddess, please give me a chance to live again. Let my baby and I live. I want my pup to live, I want to watch it grow. Please.

The pain became so fierce, it felt like my soul was being shredded by vicious, jagged claws.

***

The dark cottage was suddenly full of pale light. It shone over my corpse, making it glimmer in moonlight.

I still lingered, my spirit withering, but I refused to leave the cottage out of spite. Hope was lost, but my will was not.

An ancient voice whispered to my spirit, a voice drenching the room in moonlight. The dark floor looked like the ocean at night with a full moon’s reflection on the surface.

“Tortured soul,” the voice whispered, echoing through my soul, “Why do you linger?’

My baby, I echoed back to the void, I must live so that my pup survives.

A very important, rare child. Rare like you, Cathy.

The wisdom of a thousand kingdoms and universes projected in the voice. As the moonlight saturated my corpse’s skin to make it even more pale, I realized.

Moon Goddess, my lady, my s

oul begged, are you here to answer my prayers?

Yes, child. But there is a reason I am here to grant you life again; your bloodline is too significant and rare to expunge.

My bloodline? I questioned. I’m an average werewolf.

You are much more than that, my dear child, the goddess urged, for you and your sister, Danika, are more important than the mere prince you married.

You are a descendant of a bloodline that has become extremely rare, Cathy. They were mysterious and very discreet; they kept to themselves during their time period because they had a gift no one else possessed. A gift they would be slaughtered for.

I shuddered, shock still permeating through my bodiless soul. This urged her on.

The members of this pack, who were very skilled in healing and medicine, had the ability to bring anything back from the dead. All that was needed was their b***d or their heart.

But that’s impossible. I’ve been an average werewolf my entire life, I responded, remembering how pathetic and insignificant I felt in comparison to Prince Aldrich, And I’ve never even heard of a pack like this, not even a tale or old legend.

There are only few members of this pack left in existence, for reasons you can guess with ease. You are one of them. Your species is very important, dear Cathy. For this, I must pardon you from death and grant you life once more.

This is why you paired Prince Aldrich and I, I muttered, realization surfacing.

You are just as important as him, even more so. And you let him treat you otherwise.

My body thirsted for water, for food and a bath and sunlight. But mostly, it thirsted for revenge at that moment.

I must return, was all I said.

The Moon Goddess’s soothing voice warned, I will grant you life, but it will come with a price, my child.

I looked down at my corpse, at the poor girl who did not know she was special, who was treated like a clown then tossed away like a forgotten piece of garbage. Regarded as nothing more than the rodents that sniffed at her dead body.

I will pay anything, I promised the goddess, desperate to escape from the dust and death drowning in cobwebs. I gazed down at the bulge of my stomach. Anything.

***

4 years later.

Aldrich

Sunlight shimmered through the leaves of the trees, birds calling to each other in the sky. And I admitted to myself, after four years of raging battle, I forgot things like this happened.

I was passing through the forest outside of my home, rediscovering details I never had time to analyze. I forgot about birds, about the details of life and the way the clouds sometimes float over the sun and dragonflies that hovered just above the ground.

I forgot the color of most flowers and the yearning the animal inside of me felt to lay down in them and never leave. A cottage to the right of a large willow tree caught my eye, and it looked like the most peaceful thing I had ever seen in years. A servant beside me tripped over a vine along the ground, and I nearly laughed.

“Help me! I’m stuck!” a tiny voice echoed through the trees.

I paused, eyebrows pinching together as I scanned the sunlit forest around me. It was recognizably the tone of a child.

Surprised, I automatically followed the trail of the voice repeatedly calling for help. As a former soldier, it was instinct to pursue civilians in need, especially children.

As I neared the small home, I realized it was one of the cottages under my jurisdiction. I couldn’t remember who last resided in it–probably one of the servants or cooks. However, it seemed long abandoned, vines and moss growing along the stone.

If this is a trick, I’m going to be pissed, I thought as I approached the cottage. The soldier in me was gracious, but the now-war-general in me tensed as I circled around the bend.

I found a small chubby boy indeed stuck, hanging out of a hole in the cottage’s wall.