Finally.
Seamus exhaled as the grand doors of the Matteo estate shut behind him with a deep, echoing thud.
He stood still for a moment in the foyer, shoulders drooped from exhaustion, boots coated in dust, blood, and soot. The past week had stripped him bare—physically, emotionally. He hadn't worked the mines like that since the early days, back when he first inherited the estate from Uncle Niegal.
Twenty-six dead.
Dozens injured.
A collapsed mana vein.
And now, a bitter wind howled up the cliffs behind him like a funeral dirge.
But there was one thing left that could still pull him back from the abyss.
He climbed the stairs two at a time, boots barely touching the polished stone. The estate was silent, most of the staff and family long since gone to sleep. The storm outside rumbled faintly, its distant lightning casting occasional flashes down the long corridor like ghostlight.
Seamus didn't knock. He entered the bedchamber quietly, reverently.
There she was.
Elena lay curled on her side, the hearth casting long shadows across the room. Her wild curls were twisted into a loose bun at the crown of her head, her breathing soft and steady. One arm curled beneath her pillow, the other resting protectively near her belly.
His heart clenched.
He crossed the room and knelt beside her, brushing a curl from her cheek before leaning in to kiss it gently.
She smiled in her sleep, but didn't stir.
Seamus watched her for a moment longer, committing her peaceful expression to memory, before he finally stood and began unbuttoning his grimy shirt, preparing to bathe.
But then—
A small tug.
He paused mid-step.
From behind, delicate fingers grasped the hem of his untucked shirt.
Elena.
Awake now, blinking blearily up at him with a sleepy smile blooming across her face.
"I'm not dreaming, am I?" she asked softly. "You've returned?"
Seamus turned back to her, his eyes softening. He sat on the edge of the bed again, letting her pull him into a fierce embrace. She buried her face against his chest, clinging to him as if afraid he might vanish again.
"I've missed you so much," she whispered, her voice cracking just slightly.
A breath of laughter escaped him. "That's the first time you've said that out loud."
She blushed, hiding her smile behind a hand, but her expression turned serious in an instant. Her brows furrowed.
"Seamus," she said carefully, "do you remember what I told you before you left?"
He nodded, his lips twitching upward. "How could I forget?"
"We've never really talked about it, though. About… what it means. About what happens next."
Seamus reached out, drawing her into the crook of his arm. She leaned against him without hesitation, savoring his warmth, the familiar musk of his skin—iron, leather, and something uniquely him.
"My love," he murmured after a long pause, "I don't think you realize the blessing you've given us."
Elena looked up at him, startled by the tenderness in his voice. His silver eyes shimmered with a rare kind of light, one that didn't come from the fire.
She hesitated, then reached beneath the collar of her nightdress and drew out the talisman the Behike had given her—red, gold, and deep midnight blue, braided with purpose. It pulsed faintly between them, woven with protective magic and prophecy.
"You're not wrong," she said softly. "The Behike says this child is going to shake the very foundations of the world."
Seamus took the talisman between his fingers, admiring the quality of the threading. "More prophecies?" he asked, with a ghost of a grin.
Elena nodded. "They said… there's a storm in the blood."
He said nothing to that.
Instead, he laid back, pulling her into his arms as he settled into the bed beside her. Her cheek found its familiar place against his chest. His hand moved instinctively to her belly, resting there. Protective. Awestruck.
"We'll face this together," he whispered, voice heavy with emotion. "Wife."
Elena's brows arched in surprise. She glanced up. "Wife? We're not wed yet, silly man."
Seamus lifted her chin with a single finger and kissed her deeply, slow and sure.
He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye. "Let's be honest, Elena. We've been sworn to each other before we even started this lifetime."
His expression shifted, his eyes darkening slightly as the reality of their world sank between them. "We should move up the date of the wedding," he said, voice quiet but firm. "The Church is still hunting you. If they find out you're carrying my child out of wedlock-"
"The entire estate could be excommunicated," Elena finished for him. "Or worse."
He nodded once, grim.
But for now… there was peace.
They fell into a comfortable silence, arms around each other, hearts finally beating side by side again. Seamus's hand remained at her belly, even though no bump showed just yet. His thumb rubbed slow, thoughtful circles over the soft fabric of her gown.
Outside, the storm howled louder.
Lightning lit up the cliffside like a burning veil, rain pelting the windows. But within the stone walls of the Matteo estate, a storm had already begun.
Not one of destruction.
But of rebirth.