A Healer's Journey Novels & Stories

And whoever came would choose a Luna from the existing pack to seal the claim. I didn’t have rank. I didn’t have a wolf. I was Linden Briar, the dead healer’s daughter. The pack didn’t overlook me. They looked away on purpose. Easier to pretend I didn’t exist than to think too hard about what I could put in their next tincture. That silence was the safest thing about me. I ground valerian for the sleep tinctures the pack would need tonight. Measured henbane into careful doses for the grief that would settle into body aches by morning. Made myself useful. Let them keep ignoring me.

he asked her. “I am a healer,” she said without any expressions. “But promise me you won’t tell this to anyone that I healed her, I am doing this only for my brother,” she said. “She is a healer? It is a rare gift,” said Leah, shocked. “Okay deal, heal her,” said Noah. She placed her hand over Hazel’s ribs and after a while, they started to heal. Eden on the other hand was about to kill Rudy. “Hurry up,” said Judi. “Almost there,” she said and after a while, Hazel opened her eyes.

“Dedicated to bringing together healers from all across the packs. We’re working on creating a coalition of healers that aren’t bound to territories. We’re still working on funding and recruiting people, but… I think you’d be a shoe-in.” I looked at the pamphlet. It showed a picture of a healer holding a stethoscope to a child’s chest, both smiling. The mission statement mentioned something about healing for all, regardless of pack affiliation, although the rain had smudged many of the letters. “I know things have been chaotic,” Lucas said, tapping the pamphlet with one finger, “but Ellie, healing is your calling. You and I both know that.” He paused. “Don’t let Dominic—” “Don’t let Dominic

I followed him through the border into the heart of their village. The healer’s den was quiet,too quiet. My boots echoed softly on the stone floor as we entered. I could smell blood and herbs. Birth and death, mingled in the air. The healer looked up as I approached. She was an old wolf, her silver hair braided down her back, her face lined with wisdom and fatigue. “You’re too late,” she said softly. My breath caught in my throat. “What do you mean?” She didn’t answer immediately. She motioned for me to follow.

: is she okay or does our Queen B needs rehab? I took her phone from her. What is this? I whispered, you tell me! She said immediately. Where were you last night Zuri, I searched for you, I asked and I came out, your car had zoomed off in the night, I asked Mason he said, you had migraines and you needed to rest and I shouldn't worry, only for me to see this when I woke up in the morning. What time is it, I asked It's we need a solution o clock, G answered sarcastically. Hahaha, how funny I responded, what do they mean by rehab? What is going on

I’m about to tell him that I’m glad I could help, when I hear Buppig’s voice nearby. When the flower of spring Eases the pain of night A shiver runs up my spine, every hair on my body stands on end and I feel Hera push forward. It feels like electricity, or magic just filled the air. It’s Ailduin’s voice that continues. She will begin to heal He who is broken There is only one Who can heal such pain I turn and look at him. His eyes move from Buppig’s to mine. “The third prophecy. The one we call The Healer.”

“You really know nothing of the Night Shadows; one scratch, and you are as good as dead. The deeper your injuries, the faster you die. You don’t try to be a hero when you come across one, you do yourself a favour and run.” I stood there, speechless, thinking of what could had become of Trisha and I if the Shadows successfully caught up with us. I was deep in regrets of what could have been, till Elera snapped me out of it. “Healer.” She said, in a low tone. “What?” I asked. “You taking care of that werewolf victim is the work of a healer. Healers deal with most cases caused by the supernatural. You are a healer, and trust me, you’ll encounter more failure than success. You will watch many pe

### The Burden of the Healer Elsewhere in the lower levels, Seraphina moved quietly through the sprawling palace infirmary. Improvised beds lined every single hallway. Healers worked tirelessly, moving between baskets of dried herbs, fresh bandages, soothing magic, and desperate prayers. Seraphina spent hours bending over wounded soldiers, displaced children, and palace servants, channeling her golden light into anyone who needed her. Healing was what she understood. Healing was beautifully simple: when people hurt, she helped; when people cried, she comforted; when people survived, she hoped. But as she moved deeper into the wards, she realized some wounds could not be mended by magic.

The diagram showed a soul fracture, what happened when the body died with unresolved regret. “You must heal others, to stitch your soul whole again,” Master Ye had said and she knew then that the old man was acutely aware of her past life tragedy. She looked at her list: seven down. Ninety-three to go. She closed her eyes and whispered to the night: “I will become the greatest healer this world has ever seen. I will never abandon myself again.” Thunder echoed in response. She smiled. Her journey had just begun.

She smiles brightly again. “I’m… Eldon Thorne. Thank you for taking care of me.” “You’re welcome.” - Healers are a race of people who are loved by nature. Unlike the type Professor Sloane talked about during class, these are everyday doctors that are capable of some degree of healing. I still don’t understand the distinction but Ezra said it’s like a vet and a neurosurgeon.