Aria lay flat on her back, her fingers pressed lightly against the curve of her belly. The room was quiet, save for the occasional creak of old wood and the rustling wind beyond the windows of the SilverCrest safehouse.
The fire had burned low. Shadows danced across the ceiling like restless spirits. And yet, it wasn’t the darkness that kept her awake.
It was the stillness.
Her baby hadn’t moved in hours.
She tried not to panic. The midwife had told her this might happen — days when the child shifted deeper into the womb, growth spurts that led to long periods of quiet. But tonight, her instincts screamed louder than logic.
Something was wrong.
She’d eaten. She’d walked. She’d even whispered to her belly, half pleading, half praying. But the familiar flutter — the little jabs and pulses she’d grown used to — had never come.
Her thoughts spiraled, shame coiled around fear.
Was this her punishment for staying strong?
For not begging Kael to take her back?
For daring to carry his child without his approval?
She clenched her eyes shut. “You’re okay,” she whispered. “You’re just resting, right?”
But the silence pressed back, too heavy.
She pulled the furs tighter around her, as if she could protect the baby from whatever unseen danger had crept into the night. But deep down, she knew this wasn’t just nerves.
It was a warning.
She drifted somewhere between sleep and waking, her hands still anchored protectively across her belly, when the sensation came.
A thump.
Then another.
Her eyes snapped open, heart leaping into her throat.
The kick was strong. Firm. Not a flutter — a declaration. The baby pushed again, then shifted, as if responding to her mother’s tension.
Tears welled up so fast Aria couldn’t stop them.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered, one hand pressed just beneath her ribs. “You’re safe, little one.”
For the first time in days, the weight in her chest eased.
But with that comfort came something else — an echo.
Not a sound. Not a voice.
A sense.
A presence.
It surged from within her like heat blooming beneath her skin. She wasn’t imagining it. The child wasn’t just moving — she was communicating.
Aria closed her eyes, focusing on the thread of warmth spiraling outward. Her heart raced. Not from fear, but awe. Because beneath the steady rhythm of her pulse was something new:
An otherness. Ancient. Wild.
A flicker of something that did not belong to her but was still hers.
Her baby… was more.
A knock on the door startled her.
Zara entered without waiting for permission, her usual caution stripped away by urgency.
“Are you okay?” she said, scanning the room.
“I am now.” Aria exhaled, wiping her cheeks. “The baby kicked.”
Zara blinked, then smiled — but there was something guarded in her expression.
“All day you were quiet,” Aria said softly. “You knew something too, didn’t you?”
Zara stepped closer, lowering herself beside the bed. “I felt your fear. And something else. Like… a power rising.”
“I felt it too. Not mine. Hers.”
Zara’s eyes darkened with understanding. “That’s no ordinary pup.”
Aria’s mouth quirked into a tired smile. “She never was.”
Morning light crept through the frost-lined windows as the fire died completely. Aria remained awake, her thoughts turning over and over as Zara dozed nearby.
She thought about how the pack had treated her — pitied her, mourned her, whispered about her behind their hands. Thought about Kael’s face the last time he looked at her, confusion etched into longing. About Evelyn, watching with eyes like daggers and lips that always smiled too politely.
But this child…
This child had chosen to stay.
Even when the bond was torn.
Even when the mother was discarded.
Even when the future had crumbled.
The baby had stayed. And now she stirred with power.
Aria sat up slowly, one hand on her stomach. She could feel it again now — a rhythmic pulse, steady and strange.
This wasn’t just the baby kicking.
It was resonance.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she recalled a legend Zara had once told her during a sleepless night — about wolves born beneath shattered bonds, children of grief and fire, who carried the ancient tether of the moon not through lineage but through purpose.
She’d laughed it off then. Called it romantic nonsense.
Now she wasn’t so sure.
A sudden knock — three short, one long — jolted them both.
Zara stood instantly, tense. “That’s not a guard signal.”
The door creaked open.
An elder healer stepped in, flanked by two others — one carrying parchment, the other, a glass vial.
“We need to examine you,” the elder said gently. “Word of the child’s awakening has reached the council.”
Aria’s blood chilled.
“Already?” she whispered.
Zara stepped between them. “How?”
The healer didn’t flinch. “Magic travels faster than gossip. And this magic… shook the wards.”
Aria gritted her teeth.
“I don’t trust the council,” she said. “Not after what they did.”
“I’m not here on their behalf,” the healer replied. “I’m here because there hasn’t been a bond-wrought heir in two generations. You don’t just carry a baby, Luna. You carry a turning point.”
Zara’s gaze narrowed. “And that makes her a target.”
The healer didn’t disagree.
Aria rose slowly, her hand steady on her belly. “Then let them come,” she said. “But they’ll find more than just a mother.”
They’ll find a storm.
