The Price of Healing

POV: Kaia

"It appears you have moon sickness, Kaia. You only have a few weeks to live."

The pack doctor’s grim voice echoes in the sterile, white-walled room of the Evermore pack hospital. I sit frozen on the edge of the crinkling paper of the examination bed. The words crash over me like a deluge of freezing water. The chill seeps through my skin, sinking deep into my bones. My mind fiercely rejects the terrifying diagnosis. This feels like a sick and cruel joke orchestrated by the universe.

"That is impossible, Gideon. I possess rare and potent healing powers. I am the dedicated healer of the Evermore pack. I have honed my magic tirelessly every single day to earn the Alpha title. The concept of me succumbing to an illness defies all logic." I stare at the old man, waiting for him to crack a smile and tell me it is just a prank. I wait for him to laugh and say I just need a long weekend of rest.

He does not smile. Gideon holds his silver medical clipboard tight against his chest. The harsh fluorescent lights cast deep shadows over his wrinkled face, highlighting the deep lines of worry etched into his skin. His aged eyes hold no deception, only profound sorrow. He has been like a father to me, watching me grow and master my gifts within these very walls for over a decade.

"I am sorry, Kaia. I believe the origin of your disease ties directly to your identical twin sister, Nyla. Years ago, Nyla contracted this exact curse. To save her life, you offered your own blood. You let her bite you. The sickness likely transferred to your bloodstream through that very exchange. It just lay dormant until now." Gideon steps closer, his voice dropping to a somber whisper.

A suffocating dread settles over my chest, heavy and unyielding. Moon sickness is a definitive death sentence. It is an incurable plague that slowly and agonizingly drains a shifter's life force from the inside out. The symptoms manifest differently for every victim. Some throw up black blood. Some lose their precious memories. Some lose the sacred ability to shift. But the end result is always the same bleak inevitability. Death.

I think back to earlier today. The heavy oak doors of the pack hospital had swung open. A frantic mother had rushed in, carrying her crying little boy. The child had a deep, gaping scrape on his knee from playing too rough. Crimson blood dripped onto the pristine floor tiles. He panicked, screaming in sheer terror at the sight of his own torn flesh.

"Do not worry. I will heal your wounds in a jiffy. Now dry your tears and have some candy while I work." I had smiled warmly at the boy, pushing a glass jar of sweets into his small, trembling hands to distract him.

Once he settled down with a mouthful of sugar, I had placed my glowing palm over his bleeding leg. I took a deep, centering breath. Golden magic flowed from my skin, wrapping around his torn flesh like a warm blanket. The injury mended in seconds, leaving smooth, unblemished skin behind. The boy thanked me profusely and skipped out of the room, oblivious to the toll it took on me.

Usually, healing drains my energy, but I always recover. Today was different. Seconds after the boy left, the room tilted on its axis. Inexplicable dizziness struck my brain with the force of a hammer. My legs wobbled underneath me like jelly. I reached out for a hospital bed for support, but my vision went pitch black. I collapsed onto the hard floor.

I woke up exactly five hours later in this very bed. Five grueling hours of unconsciousness.

"Where are my parents?" I ask, my voice trembling as the reality of my situation begins to sink in.

"I mind-linked Alpha Evan and Luna Cora five hours ago when you collapsed. They have not arrived yet." Gideon replies softly, avoiding my direct gaze.

The chilling realization hits me right in the gut. They did not even bother to visit me. Their own daughter passed out in the hospital, and they could not spare a single minute to check if she was breathing.

I slide off the bed. My legs feel like solid blocks of lead. Gideon calls my name, his voice thick with worry, but I do not answer. I cannot answer. I stumble out of the hospital, pushing through the heavy double doors. The earth shakes under my feet until I realize the tremors belong to my own shaking body. I break into a desperate run. I need familial warmth. I need a shred of comfort to anchor me to this world. I head straight for my parents’ massive estate at the center of the pack lands.

Since the moment of our birth, the divide between Nyla and me was crystal clear. We are identical twins, daughters of the Alpha and Luna. We should be equals. Instead, Nyla is the pampered favorite. She possesses zero magic, yet she gets away with everything. I am the hardworking healer, dedicating my life and my powers to the pack to earn my rightful Alpha title. Nyla hates me from the depths of her shallow heart. She steals every favor, every ounce of praise anyone tries to bestow upon me. My parents cater to her every whim, constantly claiming she has special needs while my own needs are ignored.

I reach the grand front doors of the Alpha estate. I push them open, desperate for my mother's embrace.

The extravagant living room smells of roasted meat and expensive red wine. My parents sit on the plush leather sofas. They look utterly at ease. My father scrolls idly through his phone. My mother sips casually from a delicate crystal teacup. They are unbothered by my absence. They are unbothered by the fact that their flesh and blood just woke up from a five-hour coma.

"I see you are fine now, Kaia." My father speaks in a nonchalant tone, not even bothering to look up from his glowing screen.

Tears well up instantly and spill over my eyelashes, leaving hot trails down my cheeks.

"I have moon sickness!" I cry out, my voice shattering the quiet atmosphere of the room.

My parents freeze for a fraction of a second. A brief flash of shock crosses their faces. Then, their features relax back into an infuriating calmness.

"It must be a misdiagnosis, Kaia. You have healing powers. You are immune to such things. Go back to your clinic and stop fussing." My mother waves her manicured hand dismissively, taking another sip of her tea.

Bile rises in the back of my throat. The sheer indifference stings worse than a physical blow.

"Nyla gave it to me! Remember how she contracted the sickness years ago? I tried to heal her and kept passing out from the strain! We could have done a safe, standard blood transfusion. But you two insisted I let her sink her teeth into me! You forced me to let her drink my blood direct from the vein!" I scream at the top of my lungs, pointing an accusing finger at them.

Instead of sympathy or horror, my father’s face contorts into immediate rage. He jumps up from the sofa. He slams his massive fist onto the glass mahogany coffee table, making the teacups rattle.

"Stop being dramatic, Kaia! Gideon is an old fool who knows nothing about real magic! Or are you trying to say you regret saving the life of your own sister? You know Nyla has a weak immune system! Would you have preferred your twin sister to die? Is that how selfish you are towards your own flesh and blood? You parade around this pack acting like a savior, but you cannot even show basic compassion for your own family!" He roars at me, his eyes blazing with protective anger for the daughter who is not even in the room.

The air leaves my lungs. My chest feels tight, squeezed by an invisible vice. They always use that ridiculous excuse. They claim Nyla’s weak immune system is my fault. They say we shared the same womb, and because I possessed magic, I greedily stole all the nutrients, leaving Nyla to suffer and wither. What evidence do they have? None. Even if it were true, does that mean I deserve to die? Have I not sacrificed enough of my soul for this family? Without my magic, Nyla would not have survived infancy.

I stand there, suffocating under the crushing weight of their cruel indifference. A dark, horrifying realization settles deep into my bones. I could drop dead right here on their expensive imported rug, bleeding from my eyes, and they would not shed a single tear. Dying right in front of them would not earn me a drop of sympathy. They would probably just complain about the stain. Nyla is their world. My lifelong dedication means nothing to them.

I turn on my heel. I flee the house, unable to spend another second breathing the same air as them.

The cool night wind hits my face as I burst through the front doors. I do not stop running. As soon as I cross the tree line at the edge of the woods, I call upon my wolf. Bones snap, lengthen, and rearrange in a fluid motion. Thick fur erupts from my skin. I shift into my wolf form and hit the loose dirt on four powerful paws.

I run blindly and frantically beneath the dark, moonless night. The shadows of the towering pine trees blur past me in a dizzying rush of black and gray. I let my pure animal instincts take the lead, my paws tearing through the underbrush, snapping thick branches and kicking up damp soil. I do not care where I go, as long as it is far away from the people who gave me life. The world feels empty and cold, devoid of any genuine love or loyalty.

I reach a wide, desolate clearing. The silence of the night presses down on my furry shoulders. I throw my heavy muzzle back toward the sky. I unleash a loud, long howl of pure, gut-wrenching despair. The haunting sound echoes through the dense trees, carrying my broken heart and my looming death sentence into the void.

Suddenly, an inexplicable, crushing wave of exhaustion slams into my body like a freight train. The magic drains from my blood in a terrifying instant. My bones wrench in reverse, grinding against each other with agonizing friction. The sickness brutally forces me back into my human skin against my will.

I crash hard onto the forest floor. Naked. Shivering. Defenseless. I fall to my bare hands and knees, scraping my skin against the sharp rocks.

A fierce spasm grips my chest. I hack and gag, coughing hard for a full minute. My lungs burn as if I inhaled hot coals. Dirt sticks to my sweaty, trembling skin. I gasp for precious air, my throat raw and bleeding from the force of the fit.

Sheer terror washes over me, colder than the night air. The disease is already eating away at my magic. It is rapidly destroying my ability to shift. I am losing my wolf.

Terrified and alone, I curl into a tight ball on the cold ground. The fear of an agonizing death grips my very soul. I long for any source of solace. I crave a warm embrace. I need to feel safe.

I look up through the dark canopy of leaves. A familiar amber porch light glows in the near distance. I realize my deep-seated instincts carried me straight to the doorstep of my mate, Caleb.

I force myself to stand up. My muscles ache and protest with every tiny movement. I walk the rest of the way, my bare feet stepping over sharp twigs and dead, crunching leaves. I just need his strong arms around me. I need him to pull me against his chest and tell me everything will be fine. I need my mate to anchor me to life.

I step onto his wooden porch. The front door is unlocked, just as he always leaves it for me. I cross the threshold, entering the dark, silent living room. The familiar, comforting scent of pine and cedar fills my nose, offering a brief, fleeting moment of comfort in this nightmare of a day.

But as I quietly near his bedroom door down the narrow hallway, a sound stops me dead in my tracks.

Strange, muffled noises bleed through the thick wood. The rhythmic, frantic creak of heavy bedsprings. The wet, distinct slap of bare skin against skin. High-pitched, breathy moans echoing in the enclosed space.

The blood instantly freezes in my veins. My breath catches sharply in my raw throat.

Trembling from head to toe, I reach out and grip the cold brass doorknob. The sight before me takes the already fractured pieces of my mind and heart and grinds them into dust.

My identical twin sister, Nyla, is riding my mate.

She is naked, straddling Caleb’s narrow hips with shameless enthusiasm. Her blonde hair whips wildly through the air as she bounces up and down on top of him with eager desperation. The wet, slick sounds of Caleb's hard, thick cock sliding deep into Nyla's dripping pussy echo loudly and obscenely in the dimly lit room. Nyla has her hands planted firmly on his broad chest, her nails digging into his skin, her hips grinding down hard onto his groin with frantic, rhythmic speed. Caleb grips her bare, pale ass with both of his large hands, his fingers leaving red marks on her skin. He thrusts his pelvis upward to drive his penis deeper into her wet hole with every downward drop of her body, groaning her name in pure pleasure. They are lost in the raw, primal act of fucking, their bodies slick with sweat, desecrating the very bed I was supposed to share with him.