Aria woke gasping.
Not from a nightmare—but from something real. Tangible. Her body felt too tight, her skin too hot, and her belly… her belly was seizing like the earth before a quake.
She blinked against the early dawn light filtering through the stone lattice, clutching the side of the bed. Sweat clung to her back. The ache was no longer abstract. It was pressure—sharp, primal, and rhythmic.
Then came the unmistakable gush of warmth between her legs.
“No,” she whispered, voice cracking. “No, no, not yet.”
She fumbled to sit up, but the pain slammed into her again. This wasn’t the phantom discomfort she’d been warned about. This was labor—and it was too soon.
Zara rushed into the room at the sound of the mattress creaking.
“What’s wrong?” she asked breathlessly, eyes already scanning.
Aria’s face was pale. “It’s happening.”
Zara’s face lost all color. “No. Aria, you’re not due for weeks.”
“I don’t care what the moon calendar says,” Aria hissed through gritted teeth. “The baby doesn’t agree.”
Zara pressed a palm to her stomach, magic flaring under her fingertips. “Your body’s responding to something—it’s triggering the birth.”
Aria’s hands gripped the bedsheets. “The creature yesterday. That surge. Maybe it set something off.”
Zara’s gaze locked with hers, terrified and resolute. “We have to call the healer. Now. And Kael—”
“No,” Aria barked. “No Kael. Not unless I say so.”
“But—”
“Zara, please,” she breathed. “Not him. Not now.”
Zara nodded once, already moving.
Aria leaned back, jaw clenched, body heaving with another brutal contraction.
The storm had begun.
The healer arrived with her sleeves already rolled up and bloodroot powder staining her fingers.
Aria barely noticed her enter. She was writhing, soaked with sweat, eyes wild as another wave overtook her.
“Too fast,” the healer muttered as she knelt at the foot of the bed. “This is unnatural.”
“I know,” Aria gasped. “She’s not ready.”
“Neither are you,” the healer snapped. “But that doesn’t matter now.”
Zara hovered at Aria’s side, gripping her hand tightly. “She’s going to be okay, right? The baby?”
The healer’s expression didn’t soften. “The child is fighting to come out. But her power is unstable. It’s flooding Aria’s channels—overriding the body’s rhythm.”
Aria screamed again, body arching.
Magic crackled across the room—faint at first, then more violently. Her skin shimmered with a light too white to be safe. Runes etched on the walls glowed in response.
The baby wasn’t just coming. She was trying to shift something fundamental.
“The wards!” Zara cried. “They’re buckling!”
“Don’t worry about the walls,” the healer barked. “Worry about keeping her breathing.”
Aria’s back bowed again.
She could feel it—her child’s pulse overlapping with hers. Two heartbeats, pounding in chaos. Not aligned. Not in sync. It was like trying to channel the moon through a shattered mirror.
“I—I can’t—” she gasped. “She’s—burning—”
Zara’s lips pressed to her temple. “You’re not alone, Aria. You hear me? You’re not doing this alone.”
But Aria was barely there. Her body was in the bed, but her mind was spiraling—through visions, through heat and light and ancient echoes.
She saw her mother.
A face she hadn’t remembered in years.
She saw her standing beneath the moon, arms outstretched, belly swollen. A ritual long forgotten.
And she saw her fall.
A burst of white flooded her vision.
Then nothing.
When she came back to herself, Kael was in the room.
“No,” she croaked.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t move toward her.
He simply stood near the door, eyes locked on her face—ashen, stricken.
“Why…” she breathed.
“Because if I lose you both,” he whispered, “there will be nothing left of me.”
Zara didn’t stop him. The healer didn’t acknowledge him. They were too busy grounding Aria’s thrashing body, containing the glow pulsing from her abdomen.
The baby was crowning.
“Now!” the healer ordered.
One final scream tore through the room, shattering the outer sconce. Light exploded.
And then—
A cry.
Small. Raw. Alive.
Silence followed the cry.
Then movement. The healer wrapped the baby in a soft cloth etched with protective sigils. The magic faded. The room’s light dimmed. The air cooled.
Zara exhaled first.
“She’s here,” she whispered. “She’s okay.”
Aria blinked, face damp with tears she hadn’t felt fall.
The healer placed the tiny bundle in her arms. The child was pale, her hair wet and dark, but her eyes—already open—were storm-gray.
Just like Aria’s.
“She’s…” Aria tried to speak, but the words caught. Her throat burned.
The baby didn’t wail. She didn’t thrash.
She looked straight into her mother’s eyes.
A steady, unsettling gaze.
Kael took one step closer, but Aria turned slightly, shielding the child with her arm.
“Not now,” she said softly.
He stopped.
Zara moved beside her, brushing Aria’s hair back gently. “You did it.”
“No,” Aria murmured. “She did it.”
Kael remained frozen, a thousand words behind his lips.
The healer stood. “She’ll need watching. The magic in her is alive—restless. You can feel it.”
Aria nodded, never looking away from her daughter.
“I’ll guard her with everything I am.”
And in her arms, the heir of two broken bloodlines blinked—quiet, powerful, and very much awake.
