Eighth-Born Luna (Emily and Nathan) novel Chapter 78

One second, I was in Nathan’s arms, the cold spray hitting my skin and his blood warm on my lips. The next- nothing. No bathroom. No Nathan.

A blinding light took over, bringing a pain that wasn’t a wound. It was deeper. I tried to scream, but the sound

lied in the glow.

Then, the whiteness cracked like glass.

I was standing in a strange room. The air tasted of woodsmoke, bitter herbs, and copper. Outside, thunder shook

he stone walls, vibrating in my teeth.

A man was dying on the floor.

He was massive. Even pale and covered in blood, power radiated off him in waves. He was an Alpha–I felt the

veight of it in my gut.

A woman knelt over him, her long, silver–white hair tangled and damp with sweat. Her hands were pressed firmly

gainst a jagged wound in his stomach, and a faint, flickering light pulsed between her fingers.

She was beautiful, but she was coming apart at the seams.

“No,” she rasped, her voice breaking. “No, stay with me.”

I stepped forward.

“Help him!” I shouted.

Neither of them moved. I reached out to touch her shoulder, but my hand passed through her like smoke. I wasn’t

eally there. I was a ghost watching a memory.

The woman leaned down, her forehead resting against his. “You promised me forever,” she whispered. “You

romised.”

His lips moved, but no sound came out. She let out a sob and pressed harder. The light under her palms flared right, then vanished. Blood began to trickle from her nose, staining her white lips.

I stared, horrified. She wasn’t just tending to him; she was pouring her own life force into his body. It was a trade.

“Stop,” I breathed. “You’re killing yourself.”

She didn’t hear me.

Time seemed to warp. The fire burned down to embers and was relit.

People came into the room, begging her to eat, to sleep, to let go. She didn’t even blink. She just kept her hands on his chest, her face growing paler and thinner with every hour. She was fading away right in front of me.

Jr. 199

This time, her head lifted.

Slowly, her gaze shifted away from the dying man and locked onto mine. The air in the room suddenly felt still, he storm outside muffled as if we were underwater.

She could see me.

“You finally came,” she said. Her voice didn’t sound surprised; it sounded ancient and exhausted.

I took a shaky step back. “You can see me?”

“I have always seen you,” she whispered. “Blood remembers blood.”

A lump formed in my throat. “Who are you?”

She looked down at the man, her expression so soft it hurt to look at. “I was Luna,” she said. “Once.”

The word hit. Luna. It wasn’t just a title. In her mouth, it sounded like a sacrifice.

“He is your mate?” I asked.

“My heart,” she said simply.

The man made a wet, rattling sound in his throat. She turned back to him instantly, her hands glowing again, but he light was weak. Fading. She gasped, more blood spilling from her mouth.

I rushed to her side, feeling useless. “You have to stop. You’re giving him everything.”

She let out a short, hollow laugh. “Would you?”

The question stopped me cold. She looked at me through the dim light, her eyes boring into mine.

“If it were him,” she whispered. “If it were your Alpha lying here, his life leaking out onto the floor… would you

top?”

Jathan.

I saw him in my mind–the way he looked at me, the way he’d just promised to drag God to Hell for me. The

nswer was there before I could even think.

“No,” I whispered.

The Luna nodded, a sad, knowing smile touching her lips. “That is why you are here.”

Suddenly, the room blurred. The walls seemed to melt away, and I heard voices–three of them. They were cold, hin, and felt like they were coming from the bottom of a deep well.

“A healer does not save without losing.”

The Luna closed her eyes. “They came to me, too.”

5:58 pm

The Fates?” I asked.

“The balance,” she corrected

The man’s breathing hitched: Once. Twice. Then, it just stopped.

The woman went rigid. I felt it a second later–the bond. Their connection snapped halfway, a jagged, violent tear hat felt like a scream in my own mind.

The Luna threw her head back and shrieked. The sound was raw, primal, and it ripped through me, throwing me to

ny knees as her agony became my own.

It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t some hazy vision. This was a living, breathing thing.

The Luna turned to me, her face a mask of tears and smeared blood. “I made my choice,” she said, her voice like

grinding stone. “Now you must make yours.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do.”

The white lines on my arm began to sizzle. I looked down, watching as the rune pulsed beneath my skin–angry, ncomplete, and waiting for something to fill it.

The Luna reached out. This time, when her fingers wrapped around my wrist, they weren’t mist. They were real.

They were icy cold…

“You want the power to heal,” she said, her grip tightening until it bruised. “Then you need to understand what ealing actually is.”

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