It started with a cramp.
Not sharp, not sudden—but deep. A curling pressure low in Aria’s abdomen as she descended the stairs of the keep. She paused mid-step, gripping the stone wall as the sensation rippled again—deeper, more insistent.
Zara was ahead, speaking with one of Brynn’s scouts. She didn’t notice Aria falter until the torchlight caught the sudden pallor in her face.
“Aria?” Zara turned sharply, already moving back. “What’s wrong?”
Aria’s lips pressed into a line. “I don’t know. It’s… it hurts.”
Zara reached for her, but Aria waved her off. “It’s probably nothing. Just pressure. The stress. The duel…”
But even as she spoke, the pressure twisted into pain. A dull throb at first, then a piercing flash that stole her breath. She clutched her side, inhaling sharply.
Zara didn’t hesitate. She turned to the scout. “Get the healer. Now.”
Within minutes, Aria was being guided to her chambers. The pain didn’t fade. It pulsed—regular, rhythmic. Too early.
Far too early.
The healer arrived—a grizzled woman with moonlight hair and a permanent scowl. She laid her hands over Aria’s stomach, whispering low incantations under her breath. Her brow furrowed. Her mouth tightened.
“What is it?” Aria asked. “Is the baby…?”
The healer didn’t answer immediately. Her hands moved faster now, her magic glowing faint.
“It’s not just stress,” she muttered. “Something’s off.”
Zara hovered. “Poison?”
“No.” The healer’s voice dropped. “Something old. Something… awakening.”
The pain came in waves now—stronger, faster. Aria gritted her teeth, refusing to scream. She’d faced humiliation, rejection, violence—but this was different. This was her child.
Kael was the last person she wanted to see at her bedside.
And yet, he came.
Word had spread like wildfire—Alpha Draven’s heir might be in danger. Allies could be rallied around strength, but nothing gathered wolves faster than the scent of weakness.
He entered the chamber without knocking, eyes wild. His gaze dropped to Aria’s sweat-slicked form, then to the healer, whose hands still hovered over her belly.
“What’s happening?” he demanded.
Zara stepped between them. “She doesn’t need your panic.”
Kael ignored her. “Aria—”
“I don’t need your presence,” Aria snapped. “Unless you plan to carry the pain for me.”
He faltered. Then—softly—“If I could, I would.”
The healer cut in. “Enough. There’s no poison, no physical trauma. But there is… a flux.”
Kael’s brow furrowed. “Flux?”
“The baby is reacting to a surge in legacy magic,” the healer explained. “Lunaris blood is awakening. And the child… she’s channeling it.”
Aria blinked through the haze. “Channeling?”
“She’s not in danger,” the healer continued, “but her body is trying to shift magic she was never meant to carry yet. It’s like giving fire to a candle.”
Aria’s stomach clenched again. Another wave.
Zara’s hand gripped hers. “Then what do we do?”
“I can stabilize her,” the healer said, “but she needs rest. No more duels. No stress. She carries more than just a baby—she carries a legacy that’s waking too fast.”
Kael stepped forward, gently brushing Aria’s damp hair from her forehead. “Let me help.”
She wanted to push him away. Wanted to scream. But she didn’t have the strength.
“I don’t trust you,” she murmured.
“You don’t have to,” he said. “Just lean.”
And for one brief second, she did.
By nightfall, the pain had eased—distant now, but not forgotten.
The healer left behind a tonic laced with spellroots, warning that the next flare could be worse if Aria didn’t rest. Zara enforced the order like a guard dog, forbidding anyone but herself and the healer from entering the chamber.
Even Kael.
From her bed, Aria stared at the crack in the ceiling, thoughts spinning.
“She’s not even born,” she whispered, “and she’s already fighting.”
Zara, seated nearby, looked up. “She takes after you.”
Aria gave a tired laugh. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
The wind howled outside.
In the distance, the torches of allies still burned on the hillside.
And within her, a child slept—still, but burning with magic older than the council’s laws, older than Kael’s betrayal, older than any of it.
Aria closed her eyes and whispered into the silence.
“I will not let the world take you before you’ve had your first breath.”
And for the first time in days, sleep came without pain.
