Nine months had passed.
The palace, once a place of cold grandeur, had turned into a cage of tension and dread. Servants whispered in corners. The Empress no longer smiled. The Emperor, once steel-hearted, now looked over his shoulder.
And then the night came.
A storm raged outside the Imperial Palace, lightning tearing through the sky like divine wrath. The thunder that followed was drowned only by the screams echoing through the Empress's private chambers.
Lila was in labor.
Her hair clung to her pale face, soaked in sweat. Her ruby eyes burned feverishly as she thrashed against the silken sheets, every contraction ripping a scream from her throat.
"It hurts—it hurts!" she gasped, clawing at the pillows.
The midwives trembled. Something was wrong. It wasn't just the pain—it was the air. Heavy. Suffocating. The torches in the chamber flickered erratically. One went out entirely.
The child was coming.
