Chapter 9

Someone greeted me and pulled me back to reality.

He was pleasantly surprised to see me return and asked how I had been.

I told him about my experiences in Icebourne, and he couldn’t stop expressing his admiration.

Under his expectant and reverent gaze, I erased the last trace of emotion I had left for Anderson.

I strode forward.

The sky was bright and clear, just like the life I had ahead of me.

Three years later, I had risen to become a renowned healer, sought after by alphas from packs far and wide. More and more wolves were healed by my hands, and in gratitude, they swore to protect me.

For years, I continued to make contributions to werewolf medicine.

I traveled through the forbidden jungles of Viremont, explored the Eternal Night Wastes of Nordhollow, and even witnessed a Blood Moon gathering of werewolves deep in the Ashen Dunes.

I discovered more healing methods, bringing countless wolves back from the brink of death.

By the time I finished my work for the day, the clock had already struck seven.

As I wiped my hands clean, a soft knock echoed against the wooden frame of my door. When I opened it, a young healer-in-training stood before me, wide-eyed and hesitant.

“Lady Irene, someone wishes to see you.”

I inclined my head, already used to unexpected visitors. “Send them in.”

Moments later, a familiar figure entered the room, his frame thinner than before, his once-bright eyes shadowed with something weary yet determined.

Rhys.

He looked at me as though searching for something, some fragment of the past, some unspoken answer. I offered him none.

“I heard about everything you’ve done,” he said quietly. “I—I wanted to say… I was wrong.”

I tilted my head, letting the silence stretch between us.

“I know an apology won’t change anything,” he continued, voice rough. “I don’t expect your forgiveness.”

“No,” I agreed. “You don’t deserve it.”

He flinched, but there was no anger in his expression, only acceptance. He had lost the right to ask for anything long ago.

“Then I only ask one thing,” he said. “That you continue doing what you were meant to do. That you never let anyone stop you again.”

I studied him, this boy who had once been my family, and then I nodded. It was not absolution, but it was enough for him.

When he left, I did not watch him go.

Outside, the moon hung full and heavy in the sky, casting silver light over the land. I breathed it in, feeling the cool air against my skin, and then I turned away, stepping back into the warmth of my work, my purpose, my future.

THE END