“Exactly. You’re not creating something new. You’re sharing what your body already knows with hers, helping her healing recognize the fastest path.” I watch the bruise fade further. “Wolves are more connected to these instincts than humans ever were. That’s why you can learn this—you’re just redirecting something that’s already there.”
Harper moves between trainees, adjusting postures and offering encouragement. Her coordination skills translate perfectly to teaching assistance, her gentle guidance helping the newer wolves find their confidence.
Mateo shifts his weight, confusion evident. “Why are we learning this? Aren’t you healers here for this?”
Nyxiana looks up from where she’s observing a pair of trainees. “We are. But there are two of us and twenty-six of you. During a crisis, that math doesn’t work.”
“During the outbreak,” she continues quietly, “Lyanna and I worked until our hands went numb. We barely slept. And still we almost lost wolves because we couldn’t reach them in time.” Her voice holds no judgment, just simple fact. “Lyanna kept saying, ‘There has to be another way. They’re waiting too long.’”
Harper moves closer, listening intently as Nyxiana continues.
“She figured out youalreadyhave these instincts—you know what your body needs when you’re hurt. She just found a way to teach you to extend that awareness to your packmates.“ Nyxiana’s gaze sweeps the group, her tone growing more pointed. “Most healers wouldnevershare this knowledge.They prefer being ... necessary. Irreplaceable. It brings status, influence, dependence.”
The word carries clear distaste.
“I’ve known fae healers who guard their techniques like treasure, whowantothers to need them desperately. It makes them powerful, important.“ Nyxiana looks toward me as I patiently adjust Evan’s hand position again. “Lyanna saw wolves nearly dying and thought, ‘How do I make sure this never happens again?’ Not ‘How do I make myself more valuable.’ She’s giving away what makes healers special because she’d rather you all be able to help each other than depend solely on us.”
She pauses, letting that sink in. “That’s ... remarkably selfless. And rare. Especially among fae.”
I feel Callum’s gaze before I see him. Heat crawls up my spine as I turn slightly, catching him watching from the combat training area across the field. He quickly shifts his attention back to the security trainees, but the awareness between us remains, a humming tension that’s been building since the festival.
Movement catches my eye—Ben approaching from Callum’s training area, a fresh knife wound on his forearm. Harper notices him first and moves to intercept.
“I can clean that for you,” she offers, reaching for the medical kit.
“I need Lyanna.” Ben’s voice is clipped, dismissive. He doesn’t even look at her as he steps past. “She mentioned mixing traditional fae remedies with wolf healing techniques. I want to see the demonstration.”
Harper’s hand falls to her side. Something flickers across her face—hurt, frustration, resignation—before she smooths it away and turns back to the other trainees. But I catch the slight tremor in her fingers as she adjusts Evan’s positioning.
I refocus, moving to Ben’s side where he’s displaying the wound. “Of course. This is actually perfect for showing the integration technique.”
As I place my hands over his injury, I notice the other trainees watching intently. Ben has been asking thoughtful questions throughout the session, his recovery from the contamination making him particularly interested in healing mechanics.
“Fae healing works with intention and energy pathways,” I explain, letting my magic flow into his wound. “Wolf healing uses pack bonds and physical regeneration. When we combine them—“ The cut begins closing visibly, faster than either method alone would achieve. “The results are more efficient.”
“That’s remarkable,” Cassie comments, moving closer to observe. “The tissue regeneration pattern is completely different from standard techniques.”
I’m about to respond when the distinct feeling of Callum’s attention returns, stronger this time. Looking up, I find him standing at the edge of our training area, arms crossed, observing the demonstration with unconcealed interest. The intensity of his focus makes my skin tingle, my magic responding to his presence in ways I’m still learning to understand.
“The Gamma seems very invested in our healing lesson today,” Clara whispers to Evan, not quite quietly enough.
“Can you blame him?” Evan mutters back. “She’s a looker. He hasn’t taken his eyes off our instructor since training started.”
My cheeks warm as I try to maintain my professional composure, though I can feel Harper’s amused glance. The energy in my hands flickers momentarily as Callum approaches.
“Lyanna,” he says, his voice carrying that rough edge that’s become more pronounced lately. “Since we’re running parallel training sessions, maybe we should coordinate on the defensive healing techniques for tomorrow.”
“Good idea,” I say, keeping my voice steady despite the way his proximity affects my pulse. “After this session?”
He nods, something warm flickering in his amber eyes before he turns back to his trainees.
I take a small flask of lavender-infused water from my healing kit and pass it to Clara. “Drink slowly. This will help balance your energy after the healing session.”
As Clara sips, I glance toward Callum’s training area. His security trainees are practicing defensive formations—breaking into pairs to demonstrate escape maneuvers. The smooth coordination of their movements mirrors our own organized chaos on the healing field.
“Let’s work on distance healing next,” I announce, gathering my students. “Sometimes you won’t have the luxury of direct contact.”
While demonstrating energy projection techniques to Dawn, I find myself pivoting slightly, positioning our group where I can better see the security training. It’s purely practical, I tell myself. Integration of healing and security protocols is essential for pack survival.
