The Healer and The Beast

“Please don’t cry, little one. The fever’s almost gone.”

My hands trembled against the child’s burning forehead, silver light threading between my fingers like moonbeams.

The magic pulled at something deep in my chest, that familiar ache that came with drawing sickness from another’s body into my own.

Worth it, though. Always worth it when I felt the fever break and watched color return to pale cheeks.

“There.” I smoothed damp hair from the boy’s face. “Sleep now.”

His mother pressed a handful of worn copper coins into my palm, tears streaming down her weathered face. “Bless you, Miss Sena. Bless you.”

I closed my fingers around the meager payment, warmth spreading through me that had nothing to do with magic.

This cramped room above the bakery, with its shelves of dried herbs and collection of mismatched bottles—this was mine.

The first thing I’d ever truly owned.

“Bring him back in a week if the cough returns,” I said, helping her bundle the sleeping child in her cloak. “No charge.”

“Oh may the goddess bless you, Miss Sena. Thank you! Thank you.”

She squeezed my hand and hurried out into the night, leaving me alone with the scent of lavender and the satisfying exhaustion that followed a successful healing.

I stretched, working the kinks from my shoulders as I began cleaning my workspace.

Tomorrow would bring more patients, more—

My thought was interrupted by the loud sound of the door exploding inward.

Splinters of wood struck my face as three men in black leather burst through the ruined frame.

I stumbled backward, knocking over a jar of crushed rose petals, the delicate flowers scattering across the floor like drops of blood.

“Sena Thorne?” The largest man stepped forward, his hand resting on a wicked-looking blade. “By order of the Crown Authority, you’re under arrest for practicing illegal magic.”

“Wait—” I raised my hands, silver light flickering instinctively around my fingers. “I can explain—”

“None of that now.” The second man produced shackles that gleamed with an oily, unnatural sheen. “We do not need your explanation and don’t think of trying any of your witch tricks else we’ll make this hurt.”

My magic sputtered and died as cold metal locked around my wrists.

Pain shot up my arms, burning like acid where the shackles touched skin. I gasped, feeling my power drain away like water through a sieve.

What…

What’s going on?

What the hell was happening?

“No need for dramatics, gentlemen.”

That voice.

My knees nearly buckled with relief as Uncle Henrik stepped through the shattered doorway, his bulk filling the frame.

Behind him, Aunt Marta picked her way carefully over the debris, her lips pursed in distaste.

“Thank the goddess,” I breathed. “Henrik, tell them there’s been a mistake. I’ve done nothing wrong. I help people—sick children, injured workers. Nothing illegal about healing.”

Henrik’s pale eyes swept over my destroyed shop with cold satisfaction. “Actually, niece, there’s been no mistake at all.”

The word ‘niece’ fell from his lips like something distasteful he needed to spit out. I stared at him, confusion making my thoughts sluggish.

“I don’t understand.” My voice cracked. “What are you doing here? How did you—”

“We told them where to find you.” Marta’s tone held all the warmth of the winter wind. She gestured at the men restraining me. “These gentlemen made us a very generous offer for information about your… activities.”

The world tilted sideways. “You what?”

“Thirty gold pieces for a healer’s location.” Henrik crossed his arms, looking pleased with himself.

“THIRTY GOLD PIECES?! How could you? I’m your family for Christ sake!”

“So? You owe us for all those years of raising your ass.”

“But I’ve been sending you money!” The words tore from my throat. “Every month for seven years! I’ve paid back everything you spent raising me and more!”

“Whatever.” Marta examined her fingernails with theatrical boredom. “See, your uncle and I found an opportunity and we grabbed it. You know we are deep in debts Sena and the debtors might start coming for our head soon. It’s either you or us and we chose us.”

I gasped, my knees giving out. What the fuck was going on?

“But why?!”

The largest captor chuckled, adjusting his grip on my arm. “She really didn’t know? That’s rich. Most families at least have the decency to warn their merchandise.”

Merchandise. The word hit me like a physical blow.

“This isn’t about debts,” I whispered, understanding crashing over me in nauseating waves. “You sold me.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Henrik waved a dismissive hand. “You’ll be well cared for. These men represent very wealthy clients who appreciate talent like yours.”

“Wealthy clients who buy people like livestock?” My voice rose to near hysteria. “Henrik, please. I’m family. I’m your dead sister’s daughter!”

Something flickered across his face—so brief I might have imagined it. Then his expression hardened again. “Family doesn’t practice forbidden magic in our district. Family doesn’t risk bringing the Crown Authority down on innocent people.”

“I heal children!”

“You break the law.” Marta smoothed her skirts with practiced indifference. “Repeatedly. Brazenly. We warned you to stop.”

They had. Gentle suggestions at first, then increasingly sharp demands that I find “respectable work.” I’d thought they worried about my safety.

How naive.

“We’ve watched you for weeks,” the second captor said conversationally. “Impressive setup you had here. Real shame about the mess, but orders are orders.”

Watched me. While I’d smiled at their letters, sent money home, believed I finally had a place in this world that mattered.

The shackles burned hotter as anger flared through me. I lunged toward Henrik, desperate to make him understand. “I trusted you! I loved you!”

Strong hands yanked me back. The largest man’s voice carried warning. “Easy there, merchandise. Don’t want to damage the goods.”

“Please.” Tears burned my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. “Don’t do this. I’ll leave the city, go somewhere far away. You’ll never see me again.”

Henrik turned toward the door without looking back. “Too late for that, I’m afraid. Contracts have been signed.”

Marta paused at the threshold, her gaze sweeping over my ruined shop one last time. “You should thank us, really. This life was always temporary. Now you’ll serve a higher purpose.”

They walked away together, leaving me to the mercies of strangers.

“Right then.” The leader’s voice held grim satisfaction. “Let’s get you loaded up. Long journey ahead, and the buyers don’t like to be kept waiting.”

They dragged me through the streets I’d walked every day for three years, past the baker who’d let me rent the room above his shop, past the flower seller who always saved me the wilted blooms I couldn’t afford. None of them looked up. None of them saw.

The wagon waiting at the district’s edge looked ordinary enough—wooden sides, canvas covering, two tired horses stamping in the pre-dawn cold. It wasn’t until they threw back the canvas that I saw the iron bars underneath.

“Welcome to your new accommodations.” The second man produced a key for a cage door that swung open with a rusty shriek. “Try to get comfortable. First stop is the assessment facility, then it’s off to auction.”

Auction.

The word echoed in my skull as they shoved me inside and locked the door. Through the bars, I watched my city disappear into morning mist, taking with it every illusion I’d ever held about belonging somewhere.

I pressed my face against the cold iron and finally let the tears come.