Evaline:
The next page felt heavier the moment I turned it, as if the parchment itself carried the weight of hesitation and fear.
Aurelion wrote about his confusion.
About how, despite the simplicity of his task - heal the wounded - he found himself completely lost.
He described waking each morning with a knot in his chest, afraid of his own hands. Afraid of the way power surged through him without warning, sometimes gentle like a whisper, other times sharp and overwhelming like a storm trapped beneath his skin. He wrote that there were moments he wondered if the Moon Goddess had made a mistake. If he was unworthy of something so divine.
That sentence made my throat tighten.
He admitted that in the beginning, he avoided touching injured pack members unless absolutely necessary. He feared losing control. Feared draining himself. Feared doing irreversible damage by trying to help.
The irony, he wrote, was that everyone around him thought he was brave.
