Lyra's POV:

Cody and Faye carefully lifted the unconscious woman, Elara, from the wreckage. They laid her gently on a patch of grass by the side of the road.

Her left arm was twisted at an unnatural angle. A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth, and each breath she took was a ragged, whistling gasp.

Faye frantically tried to use her mind-link to contact the pack doctor, but her face was tight with panic. The signal was weak here, distorted by the mountains.

"The doctor... he says it's too late..." Faye's voice broke, thick with despair.

A murmur of pity and horror rippled through the crowd. Everyone knew what that meant. The noble lady was going to die right here on this roadside.

I walked over and knelt beside Elara, ignoring the blood that stained her fine clothes.

Cody reached out to stop me. "Don't touch her, child!"

I lifted my head and met his gaze. My silver eyes held the weight of centuries, and the seasoned warrior froze, his hand hovering in mid-air.

My small hand came to rest on Elara's shattered arm.

"Stop!" Faye shrieked. "You'll make it worse!"

I ignored her. A soft, silver light, like liquid moonlight, bloomed from my palm.

As everyone watched in horrified fascination, a series of sickening cracks and pops echoed in the quiet. Elara's twisted arm began to move, the bones shifting and aligning under the silver glow.

The sound of the bones knitting back together was unmistakable. Someone in the crowd gagged, but most were too stunned to make a sound.

In less than ten seconds, her arm was perfectly straight. The skin was smooth and unbroken, without a single scratch to show it had ever been injured.

Faye and Cody stared, their mouths hanging open. This was impossible. Not even the most powerful Healer in their pack could do something like this.

I moved my hand from her arm to her chest, where her life was bleeding away into her lungs.

The silver light intensified, brighter than before.

Elara's body convulsed. She coughed violently, spitting up a mouthful of dark, clotted blood.

Then, her ragged breathing smoothed out, becoming deep and steady. A touch of color returned to her deathly pale cheeks.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. They were weak, but clear.

"What... what happened...?" she murmured, looking around in a daze.

Faye burst into tears of joy, throwing herself forward. "My lady! You're alive!"

Every single person was now staring at me. Their expressions were a mixture of awe, fear, and something akin to worship.

I drew my hand back, the light fading. My face felt a little pale from the expenditure of energy.

Elara's gaze found me. She struggled to speak. "Thank you, child... Who are you?"

I looked at her, my expression calm. Then I said the words that made the blood freeze in their veins.

"Your bones are mended, and your lung is whole," I stated, my voice flat. "But you will still die. Your soul is rotting."

Lyra's POV:

The flicker of life that had returned to Elara's face vanished. Her skin went pale again. "Soul... rotting?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "What does that mean?"

Faye and Cody looked completely lost. It was a term they had never heard. In the back of the crowd, an older werewolf gasped, his eyes wide as if he was remembering some dark, forgotten legend.

I extended a small finger and pointed to the center of her chest. "Here. There is a sliver of black energy. It is eating your life force. It is the foul breath of a Rogue."

At the word "Rogue," the faces of the guards hardened. The car crash was no accident. It was an ambush. Rogues, the fallen and corrupt, were known to use dark magics that left cursed wounds no normal Healer could mend.

Fear flooded Elara's eyes, followed by raw desperation. "Can you... can you save me? Please." All her noble pride was gone, replaced by the simple, primal need to live.

I looked at her calmly. "A full cleansing takes time. I have other duties to attend to."

Elara's face fell. Faye rushed to speak. "Whatever you want, the House of Vance and the Crestwood Pack will provide! Gold, power, land—anything!"

I shook my head. Those things meant nothing to me.

"I can give you a mark," I said, my gaze steady on Elara. "It will hold back the darkness for three moons."

Elara nodded without hesitation. "Yes! But where do I find you after? Please, tell me where to go."

I was quiet for a moment. My vision was already beginning to blur at the edges. The healing had drained me more than I wanted to show.

"When the time comes, you will find me," I said. "That is all I can give you."

It was not an answer. Elara opened her mouth to press further, but I was already moving.

I raised my index finger, and a bead of silver light gathered at its tip. In the air just above her chest, I drew a complex, glowing sigil of the crescent moon.

The rune solidified, radiating a holy light that pushed back the shadows and the lingering scent of death.

With a gentle push of my hand, the glowing mark sank into Elara's chest and vanished.

A warm, pure energy flooded her body. She gasped as the feeling of being gnawed on from the inside instantly disappeared. She felt better than she had in years, stronger and cleaner.

The effort left me feeling drained, my small face paler than before. A wave of exhaustion rolled over me. I had spent too much today. I needed food. I needed rest. My thoughts were growing sluggish, a fog settling over my mind.

I stood up to leave.

Faye scrambled to her feet, pulling a heavy pouch of gold coins from her belt. "Little... Little Mistress, please, take this for your trouble..."

I walked past her without a glance.

I went to my backpack and swung it onto my shoulders with ease.

Cody, the big guard, stepped forward out of instinct, wanting to help me with the seemingly heavy load. He reached out to lift it for me.

The moment his hand touched the strap, his face contorted in shock. It was like trying to lift a boulder. He grunted, putting all of his warrior's strength into it, but the bag didn't even move an inch.

He stared at me, dumbfounded, as I stood there with it on my back as if it were filled with feathers.

I ignored his astonishment and walked away, my small form quickly swallowed by the shadows of the forest.

Left behind on the road was a crowd of shell-shocked werewolves and a noblewoman who had been given a second chance at life, but whose fate still hung by a thread.

Elara clutched her chest, feeling the warm power of the sigil. She turned to Cody and Faye, her voice raw with frustration and hope.

"She didn't tell me where to find her. She gave me nothing."

Faye's face paled. "My lady... then how will we—"

"We have three months," Elara cut her off, her voice hardening into steel. "Use every resource we have. Send word to Gideon. I don't care what it costs. Find that child before the three moons are up. We will find her."

Lyra's POV:

The Blackwood Pack's settlement was nestled in a mountain valley, a small town of sturdy, timber-framed buildings. The air was thick with the smells of woodsmoke, roasting meat, and the unique scent of a thousand werewolves living in close quarters.

A crowd was gathered in the central square for the monthly Pack Gathering.

I moved through the forest of adult legs, my small size making me almost invisible. My mind filtered out the noise and smells, focusing on a single thread: the name Ryker Blackwood.

Then, I caught snippets of conversation.

"Did you hear? Briar is going to deal with that coward Ryker herself today."

"Serves him right," another voice snarled. "He brought shame on the whole Blackwood Pack!"

I stopped. I changed direction, heading toward the densest part of the crowd.

In the center of the square stood a raised stone platform. A tall, powerfully built young man was chained to a thick wooden post. His black hair was a mess, his face was bruised, but his stormy gray eyes burned with a defiant fire. This was him. This was Ryker Blackwood. Silas was right; his heart was good, but he was not living well.

A woman stood before him, clad in black leather armor. Her fiery red hair was pulled back in a tight, severe ponytail. She was Briar Thorne, the pack's Lead Warrior.

Briar held up a scroll and her voice rang out across the square. "Ryker Blackwood! You are accused of cowardice! For abandoning your post during the battle with the Bloodfang Rogues, resulting in the injury of three of your packmates!"

A wave of hisses and jeers rose from the crowd.

Ryker strained against his chains. "I didn't run!" he roared, his voice raw. "It was an ambush! I went for reinforcements to save everyone!"

Briar laughed, a cold, sharp sound. "Excuses! Your lies are as cheap as your courage."

She turned back to the crowd. "By pack law, any warrior who undermines the morale of our fighters shall have their tendons severed, their strength stripped, and be cast down to the rank of Omega!"

The judgment was met with a roar of approval. To be made an Omega was a fate worse than death for a warrior.

*Shame. Lies,* my inner wolf growled in my mind. *This woman's scent is thick with deceit and... self-loathing.*

Briar took a wicked-looking dagger from an attendant. Its blade was made of sharpened obsidian, designed specifically to cripple a werewolf's powerful muscles.

She stalked toward Ryker, her green eyes like chips of ice. "This is what you deserve, Ryker. You are a stain on the honor of this pack."

Ryker closed his eyes, his jaw tight with helpless rage.

Briar raised the dagger, aiming for the tendon behind his ankle.

The entire square held its breath.

In that dead silence, a clear, calm voice spoke. It wasn't loud, but it cut through the air and reached every ear.

"Stop."

Every head turned. The crowd parted, revealing the small, silver-haired girl standing at the foot of the platform.

Briar froze, her arm in mid-air. She glared down at me. "Who is this stray pup? Get out of here!"

Ryker's eyes snapped open. He stared at me, his expression one of pure confusion.

I ignored Briar's command and walked up the stone steps of the platform.

There was a power in my stillness, an ancient authority that made the two guards who moved to intercept me hesitate, then step aside.

I stopped in front of Briar, tilting my head back to look up at the tall warrior woman.

"The one who lies," I said, my voice even and steady, "is you."