Chapter Ten

Recovery

Aurelia’s POV

The first thing I learned after surviving Silvercrest was that survival was not the same as living.

For the first few days, I couldn’t do much of either. I couldn’t walk. I could barely sit upright. Sometimes, even breathing hurts.

The healer told me I was lucky. I hated that word.

Lucky.

There was nothing lucky about waking up alive when everything I loved might already be gone. Still, I had one thing keeping me alive.

Cassian.

He would be looking for me. I knew it. He had to be. That thought became my reason to wake up every morning.

I needed to get better. I needed to stand. I needed to walk. I needed to go home. And I needed to see him.

The first week passed slowly. Every morning, I asked the same question.

“How long until I can leave?”

The healer always gave me the same answer.

“When your body allows it.”

I hated that answer.

My body had never felt so useless. I couldn’t even cross the room without help. Sometimes I tried anyway.

The first time, I made it halfway to the door before my legs gave out. I hit the floor hard. I felt pain shot through my ribs. Before I could even catch my breath, someone grabbed my arm.

Lucien.

He helped me sit against the bed.

“What are you doing? You shouldn’t be walking yet.”

“I need to.”

“You’ll make your injuries worse.” He seemed angry.

“I don’t care.”

His eyes narrowed. “You should.”

I glared at him. “I have somewhere to go.”

“I know.” I stared at him and he must’ve heard the question in my mind because he spoke again. “You’ve said it every day.”

I looked away. He wasn’t wrong.

Every day, I asked when I could leave. Every day, I counted how much stronger I felt. Every day, I imagined Silvercrest. I imagined Cassian. I imagined…

Home.

I didn’t know why Lucien kept coming back. I didn’t ask anything about him. I just know that he must be in charge of this place. Though, I hadn’t gone out to see what the whole place looked like. He rarely spoke. Sometimes he brought water. Sometimes medicine. Sometimes he simply stood by the doorway while the healer examined me.

I never asked him to. I didn’t need another person worrying about me. I knew I needed to get better.

That was all.

By the second week, I could sit without help. It felt like an achievement. I spent most of my time beside the window.

The rain had stopped, but the sky remained gray. I wondered what Silvercrest looked like now.

Had they rebuilt the village? Had the fires been put out? Were people mourning? Was Cassian searching?

I tried not to think about the last question for too long. Because sometimes another thought followed.

What if he wasn’t?

I hated myself whenever it came. The strangers’ voices returned whenever I was alone.

He left you.

He chose the pack.

No one is coming.

I told myself they were lying. They had to be. But doubt was cruel. Once it entered your mind, it didn’t need permission to stay.

One afternoon, I asked the healer, “Has anyone come looking for me?”

She hesitated and that small action was enough to feel my heart sink.

“No.”

I swallowed. “Maybe they don’t know I’m alive.” She didn’t answer, so I looked away. That was enough.

I began trying harder. I practiced sitting. Then standing. Then taking one step. Two. Three. Each attempt left me exhausted.

My body healed slower than it should have. The healer couldn’t explain it. She said my injuries were severe. I knew there was something else. Sometimes, when the pain became unbearable, I felt warmth beneath my ribs.

A strange pulse like a second heartbeat. Whenever I tried to reach for it, it disappeared.

I didn’t understand. I didn’t tell anyone, especially not Lucien. I didn’t trust him enough.

Not yet.

By the third week, I could walk across the room. Barely.

But I could.

I remember standing beside the bed one morning, staring at my feet. I had taken six steps. Six.

I almost laughed. Then I almost cried. It shouldn’t have felt like an accomplishment. But it did.

Lucien was standing near the doorway. He had been there for several minutes.

“You saw that?”

He nodded. “I did.”

“How long were you standing there?” I didn’t know if I would feel embarrassed.

“Long enough.”

I frowned. “You’re strange.”

“I’ve been told.” He didn’t even deny it.

For the first time, I almost smiled. Almost. Then I remembered why I was learning to walk.

My smile disappeared.

“I’ll be able to leave soon.” Lucien didn’t answer. “Won’t I?”

“You still need time.”

“I’ve already wasted enough.”

His eyes rested on me. “You’ve been alive for three weeks.”

“And Cassian has been waiting for me for three weeks.” I said it with certainty. I needed to believe it.

Lucien didn’t challenge me. He simply nodded.

“Then get stronger.”

That was all.

I didn’t realize it then, but those words stayed with me. So I did.

I got stronger day by by day. Week by week until my ribs stopped hurting, my legs stopped shaking, the bruises faded, and the cuts became scars.

My body slowly returned to something I recognized. But my wolf remained distant. Sometimes I felt her.

A warmth. A whisper. A presence just beneath my skin, but never enough. Never completely.

The healer told me that perhaps my body was still recovering from the shock. I didn’t tell her that I could feel something inside me. Something watching.

Waiting.

I wondered if she was the reason my recovery had taken so long. I wondered if she was even real.

I had spent eighteen years believing I didn’t have a wolf. Maybe I was simply imagining things because I wanted something to blame.

By the end of the first month, I could walk without help. I could climb the few steps outside the room. I could dress myself. I could eat at the table instead of in bed.

I should have been happy. Instead, I was restless.

I wanted to leave.

Every morning, I asked how much longer. Every night, I imagined what would happen when I finally saw Cassian.

Would he be angry? Would he be relieved? Would he hold me? Would he apologize?

I didn’t know. But I knew one thing.

I would forgive him.

Whatever happened that night, whatever choice he had been forced to make…I loved him. And love was enough.

At least, that was what I told myself.

One evening, I stood by the window. The moon was almost full.

I pressed my palm against the glass.

“I’ll come back.” I didn’t know if I was speaking to Cassian or myself. “I just need a little more time.”

Behind me, the door opened. Lucien stood there.

He looked at me, then at the packed bag beside my bed.

“You plan to leave.” He calmly pointed.

“Soon.”

“Are you ready?”

“No.” I looked down. “But I will be.”

He nodded.

He didn’t tell me to stay. He didn’t ask where I was going. He didn’t ask who I was returning to.

He already knew.

And somehow, that made me trust him a little more. Only a little.

I turned back toward the window. The road home was still waiting. And for the first time in a month… I believed I was finally strong enough to take it.