The left side of his face was ruined—not by claws or fire, but by something darker.
His left eye was entirely black, empty of the light—it looked so wrong in a way that made her skin crawl. Dark veins pulsed beneath his skin, spreading outward from the eye like living things. The contrast was horrifying—the other eye was still vivid blue, filled with rage.
Raine’s breath caught painfully in her chest. "Oh Gods..." she whispered.
Landon’s reaction was instant. Rage flared across his face as he slammed his hand into the wall. "Get out!" he roared. The force of his voice shook the room.
Raine stumbled, her heart racing. "This isn’t a wound," she said quickly.
"Get out!"
Her courage shattered. And this time... she ran.
Raine didn’t remember how she got back to her room. One moment, she had been running—fleeing down the corridor with her boots slipping on the polished stone and her heart beating so loudly that it drowned out every other sound, leaving the door to Landon’s room behind a turn and another—and the next moment, she was slamming her bedroom door shut behind her, the sound echoing strongly in the quiet hall.
Her legs gave out, and she slid down until she was sitting on the floor, her back pressed against the wood. Her hands were shaking, and her head dropped as she fought for breath.
"Stupid. Stupid, reckless idiot." She curled her hands into fists, pressing them against her thighs, trying to ground herself. It didn’t work. She squeezed her eyes shut, but she could still see the image. The image was burned too deeply into her mind.
Landon’s face—his right eye was blue, and the other was wrong. It was so wrong in a way that made her stomach twist. Black veins had spread across the left side of Landon’s face, pulsing faintly like living things—feeding, spreading.
She had seen something like it once before, not in practice, not in a living person, only in forbidden texts she read long ago.
A slow acting poison, a potent one. One that didn’t just kill. It transformed.
Raine swallowed hard. "And I ran," she whispered to herself bitterly.
Fear had taken over. Fear was understandable. Panic was human. But healers were trained not to flee—not when someone was bleeding out or when it was destroying a body from the inside.
And now... Now she knew exactly what was wrong with him.
Landon wasn’t just bleeding. He was being consumed.
Her room felt too small, too quiet. Raine paced from wall to wall as she replayed the moment again and again. ’You don’t belong here.’ His voice had been sharp and controlled—but underneath it, she could sense something. Pain. Rage. Exhaustion. And shame.
She stopped pacing. "Idiot," she told herself firmly. "You’re a healer. Not a frightened child."
But fear had been real. Primal. That kind of poison—the kind that consumed flesh and spirit—was not something anybody could easily learn.
She pushed herself across the other side of the room toward a water basin. She splashed cold water onto her face. Her reflection stared back at her from the basin—a young woman with wide green eyes, pale skin, and a faint dimple still visible in her left cheek as if mocking the fear she couldn’t quite hide.
Raine sank onto the edge of her bed and dragged a hand through her hair. "If I don’t fix this, Alpha Janson will kill me."
She exhaled slowly.
"Fine," she muttered. "Let’s do this properly."
That night, Raine didn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the moment the mask had hit the floor. The fury in Landon’s gaze. The shame that had flickered beneath it, quick and raw, before anger swallowed it whole.
He had known. He had lived with that corruption for long enough to understand what it was doing to him.
***
By morning, Raine was already in the library.
Alpha Janson had kept his word. No guards questioned her presence as she pushed open the heavy doors and stepped inside. The space was vast with towering shelves packed tightly with books and scrolls. The library was older than the pack house itself, with dust hanging in the air and the light from high windows.
Given full access, Raine used it without restraint. She didn’t waste time. She pulled down the first volume she recognized—Poison Afflictions of the Northern Realms—and flipped through it with practiced speed. Then another. And another.
She studied ancient Toxin and diseases. She filled pages with notes, cross-checking symptoms until her fingers cramped and her eyes burned.
By midday, she had spent hours buried in books. She had stacks of books spread around her, open to pages most healers avoided. Some of the texts contradicted each other. Some ended abruptly, as if the writers had never lived long enough to finish their research. Thinking about the possibility scared her the most.
She paused, rubbing her temples, and stared down at a passage she’d read three times already.
Consumption poisons manifest asymmetrically. One side of the body was affected first. Her breath caught.
Asymmetrical. Landon’s left side.
Her chest tightened. Raine closed the book slowly. This was not an accident. Someone had done this to Landon on purpose.
***
The town was small but old, and its people were cautious and observant. They knew better than to ask questions when someone paid in gold. But the town might give her more than the library ever could.
Two warriors followed her quietly.
Disguised in a plain cloak, in the evening, Raine walked through the marketplace, listening more than speaking.
First, Raine visited an apothecary—an elderly woman with clouded eyes.
Once Raine got what she wanted, she thanked the woman and left with herbs, fragments of half-forgotten remedies she thought might be useful, and more warnings than answers.
At the second apothecary’s stall, she saw a vial and picked it up.
"Silver dust," the old man said. "Finely ground."
Raine’s fingers tightened. "Who usually buys this?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Hunters. Sometimes nobles."
"Shifters?" she pressed.
The man hesitated. "Not openly."
That answer was enough.
***
On the third day, Raine stood outside Landon’s door again. Her heart beat fast as she raised her hand to knock. She hesitated. "Don’t run," she told herself, "Not again."
She knocked. "Landon," she called softly. "It’s Raine."
No answer.
She waited, then knocked again. "Landon, I just want to talk."
Nothing.
She rested her forehead briefly against the door. "Landon, I just want to talk."
Still no answer.
"Fine," she muttered. "Be stubborn."
She stepped back, uncertain. Maybe he had refused to see her. When she turned to leave, something heavy hit the floor inside the room.
Raine froze. "Landon?" she called sharply. "Landon, answer me."
Nothing. No answer.
Raine didn’t wait this time. She grabbed the handle, pushed the door open, and went inside.