Celeste stepped into the chamber, the hem of her lunar-white robes trailing like smoke. Her silver hair was braided tight against her head, her eyes sharp, knowing. "You asked for me. It must be important."
Camille turned slowly. Her voice cracked. "I have to tell you something. Something I should've said months ago."
Celeste didn't blink. "Then speak. We don't have time for careful."
Camille swallowed hard. "I'm not just a healer. I'm not just... anything I claimed to be."
"You're trembling," Celeste said, stepping forward. "Sit."
"No." Camille shook her head. Her hands were clenched at her sides. "No, I have to say it standing. Because if I sit, I might not get up again."
Celeste waited. Patient. Unflinching.
Camille dragged in a breath. "I was chosen. Marked. Before I ever knew what it meant. I thought it was just dreams, visions, strange moments of forgetting time. But it's more than that. There's something inside me. And it's not mine."
