Chapter 4
Lyanna
Hours blur together. I move between patients, hands betraying the exhaustion I’m trying to hide.
“Try the elderflower infusion again,” I instruct Harper. “And check if Elysia’s lunar water treatment had any effect on Gabriel.”
Nothing works for more than an hour. Every healing attempt meets the same resistance—Faelan’s signature corrupting our efforts from the inside.
“Her temperature’s rising again,” I mutter, moving to Dane’s bed.
Same pattern, same resistance to treatment.
Across the room, Elysia and Isla work over the bonded couples, their hands glowing with fae energy that seems to dissipate before it penetrates the corruption.
Nyxiana continues her angel healing on Ben, but I can sense her frustration at the lack of response.
My hands shake as I try another approach on Dane, summoning healing energy laced with purification magic—techniques I learned at Lachlan’s healing compound after I first came to the earth realm. The copper scent intensifies, almost mockingly.
“Lyanna.” Harper’s voice cuts through my concentration. She places a hand on my arm, and I realize I’ve been staring blankly at Dane for several minutes. “You’ve been at this for hours, and your energy is erratic.”
I glance past her and notice she’s positioned herself where she can see Ben’s bed. She’s been doing that all day—finding reasons to be near him, checking his readings more often than strictly necessary. She probably doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.
“I’m fine,” I say automatically, though we both know it’s a lie.
Harper shakes her head. “No, you’re not. Your hands are trembling, and that last healing attempt actually made Dane’s fever spike.” She keeps her voice low, but I feel Nyxiana’s attention shift toward us. “This disease is still processing, but your discovery about Faelan is affecting your focus.”
I want to deny it, but she’s right. Every time I close my eyes, I see that shadow pulse beneath Nova’s heartbeat. Faelan’s signature, unmistakable and deliberate.
“We need you clear-headed,” Harper continues, her voice gentle but firm. “Either refocus or step back for a moment. The team needs to develop a systematic approach, and your insight is crucial—but only if you can separate your fear from your healing.”
I look around at our five-healer team working desperately to save the pack, and realize my emotional turmoil isn’t just affecting me—it’s undermining our collective efforts against a contamination deliberately targeting everything we love.
Taking a deep breath and focusing on the healing crystal in my hand, I force my mind to empty of everything except the infection’s pattern. Harper is right. Emotion is my enemy right now, and Faelan’s signature is tangling with my healing work.
“Let’s establish a clear protocol,” I say, setting the crystal down. “We need a systematic approach rather than individual techniques.”
Elysia moves to join us, her ash-blonde hair tucked behind her ears. “I’ve been tracking energy fluctuations during treatment. Every time we push healing into them, the contamination absorbs it—feeds on it, almost. That’s why our efforts keep making things worse instead of better.”
I look at the team around me. We’ve been working together since Elysia and Isla arrived via portal, but our efforts have been scattered.
“Nyxiana,” I say, “can your angel purification help stabilize the magical channels?”
She nods, her violet eyes focused. “Yes. My white flame disrupts corruption patterns without harming the host. But it only buys us hours before the illness reestablishes itself.”
“What if we combine approaches?” I suggest, focusing on the problem rather than my fear. “Harper, what combinations have shown the most stability so far?”
Harper flips through her notes, all business now. “Elysia’s fae cleansing followed immediately by Nyxiana’s purification flame has given us the longest periods of stability—approximately three hours before fever returns.”
I move to Nova’s bedside, channeling healing energy into specific pathways rather than flooding her system. “Let’s create rotating teams. Two healers per patient, alternating techniques on a strict schedule.”
“I’ll coordinate the rotation,” Harper says, already sketching out a chart. “Staggered treatments might help us maintain constant pressure on the disease.”
Isla kneels beside Kieran, her hands glowing with soft light. “When we separated bonded pairs for individual treatment, symptoms worsened within minutes. Treating them together buys us more time.”
“Confirmed,” Elysia agrees, looking up from Gabriel and Amara. “I’m seeing the same pattern.”
I nod, making mental adjustments to our approach. “Harper, make sure bonded pairs are always treated by the same healing team at the same time.”
As we continue refining our protocol, Harper pauses in her documentation, a frown forming between her brows.
“I’ve been looking at who’s affected versus who isn’t,” she says slowly. “There’s a pattern beyond just mated pairs—and it’s not about species.”
Elysia moves from Amara’s bedside, joining our huddle. “Exactly. We’ve got wolves down, but also Nova—who’s fae-wolf hybrid. Amara and Gabriel have earth magic. Nyxiana’s angel-vampire-dragon heritage didn’t protect her. Ben has angel blood from his Shadow Peak lineage, and he’s down too.”
“And none of us healers are affected,” Isla adds, looking up from Connor. “I’m wolf-angel, Lyanna’s fae, Elysia’s half-angel—but our mixed heritage isn’t what saved us. Harper’s wolf with angel blood, but she’s fine.”
The infirmary door opens, and Callum enters.
My pulse immediately quickens at the sight of him—his dark eyes scanning the room with protective intensity, his broad shoulders tense.
Even amid crisis, my body betrays me with its awareness of him.
He moves through the space with purpose, checking sightlines and exits before approaching us.
“Any progress?” he asks, his voice low.
Harper frowns as she looks from Callum to Ben’s unconscious form. “You’re both unmated wolves in pack leadership. So why is Ben down and you’re not?”
The question hangs in the air. I feel Callum’s proximity like heat against my skin as I consider Harper’s observation. His scent—raw cedar and smoke—fills my senses, making it harder to concentrate.
Nyxiana pauses in her work, her violet eyes thoughtful. “I just arrived at Ash Hollow a few months ago. I haven’t... I don’t have connections here yet.”
Something clicks into place. I look at Callum standing slightly apart from us, his posture revealing how he holds himself separate.
Harper, focused and analytical, her emotional energy directed almost exclusively toward Ben.
Nyxiana, still finding her footing in a new pack.
Me, trained since childhood to maintain professional distance.
“It’s not about species or mating status,” I say quietly, meeting Callum’s eyes. “It’s about how deeply someone has opened themselves to the pack.”
Understanding dawns in his face.
“Ben,” I continue, my voice steadying as the pattern crystallizes. “He’s not mated, but he’s the emotional anchor of Ash Hollow. Every new member, every struggling wolf—Ben’s the one who sits with them, listens to them, makes them feel they belong. His heart is open to the pack.”
“While Callum...” Harper trails off, glancing between us.
She doesn’t finish, but I understand completely. Callum keeps everyone at arm’s length. His distance isn’t coldness—it’s armor.
The irony isn’t lost on me. The trait I’ve found most frustrating about him is what kept him standing while the pack collapsed around us.
I sink onto a stool. “Faelan has weaponized connection itself. Those who guard their hearts stayed protected. Those who love openly became targets.”
Callum approaches with my water bottle, freshly filled. As I reach for it, our fingers brush. The contact is brief, barely a second, but once again I feel it like a spark against dry kindling.
“You need to rest,” he says quietly. The words are practical, but his eyes hold mine a beat too long.
“We all do,” I deflect, taking a long drink to avoid looking at him.
Callum’s jaw tightens. When he speaks, his voice is low. “So, the walls we built...”
“Kept us alive,” I finish quietly.
Our eyes meet. I see the same bitter understanding in his face that I feel twisting in my chest. We’re both guarded people. Both safe because of it. Both perhaps lonelier than we’d ever admit.
Around us the unconscious pack members serve as proof of what happens when you love openly in a world this cruel.