*Roxy*

One year later.

The sun spills through the windows of the healing cottage, dappled light warming the woven rugs and shelves of herbs. A breeze stirs the drying bundles above the hearth. It carries the scent of lavender, thyme, and sage. I sit on the low stool near the back wall, brushing out my hair with fingers slicked in oil. The strands shimmer faintly, like moonlight caught in motion, as they always do now.

A year ago, I was still learning what it meant to lead, to love, to live freely. Now, I’m something more. Still Luna, still Leo’s mate, but now something ancient and revered: a healer; my...