The months that followed Lucian's vow were the most peaceful I had ever known. A tangible weight had been lifted from my soul. With the secret of my pregnancy shared and accepted, I could finally breathe. The pack, following their Alpha's lead, treated my impending motherhood as a blessing. Omegas would bring me nutrient-rich stews, and even Astrid, in her own gruff way, would leave intricately carved wooden toys for Kael on my doorstep.
My belly grew, and with it, my connection to the life inside me deepened. I also grew stronger. With the fear of discovery gone, I was able to dedicate myself fully to Maeve's teachings. My Moon Whisperer abilities blossomed. I learned to draw the life force from the earth to mend broken bones and soothe fevers. The curse on my wrist, while still present, was a dull, dormant thing, held at bay by the combined strength of my own growing power and the vibrant life of my son.
But peace, I was coming to learn, was a fragile, fleeting thing.
The labor began just after the twin moons had risen on a cool autumn night. It was not the gentle process Maeve had hoped for. The first contraction was a vicious, tearing pain that felt entirely unnatural. It wasn't just the pain of childbirth; it was something sharp, cold, and malevolent.
"The brand," I gasped, clutching my wrist as another wave of agony ripped through me. The scar, which had been a faint silver line for months, was now glowing with a sickly, blackish-purple light. The curse was awake.
Maeve's face was a grim mask of concentration. "It's fighting back," she said, her voice tight. "The curse is tied to your life force. It senses the immense energy you are expending for the birth, and it's using this moment of weakness to attack, to claim both you and the child."
The hours that followed were a blur of torment. The normal rhythm of labor was gone, replaced by a brutal war being waged within my own body. Every contraction was a battle. I could feel my own life force, my precious lunar energy, being siphoned away by the brand, while my son's life force fought back, a desperate, tiny shield against the encroaching darkness.
Lucian had remained outside the birthing chamber, his scent a wall of anxious, protective energy. I could hear him pacing, a caged lion, his frustration at being unable to help a palpable thing. Astrid stood guard at the door, her face pale, her usual stoicism replaced by a raw, naked fear for me, for the child her brother had sworn to protect.
By dawn, I was fading. The world was a grey, hazy tunnel, Maeve's urgent voice a distant echo. The baby was in distress, his tiny heartbeat growing weaker. The curse was winning.
"I'm losing them, Alpha," I heard Maeve say to Lucian through the door, her voice cracking with despair. "The brand's magic is too strong. It's consuming them both."
No.
The word was not a thought. It was a roar that erupted from the deepest, most primal part of my soul. I had not survived Damien's cruelty, I had not fled into the wilderness, I had not found this fragile new life, only to lose my son to the lingering poison of a dead relationship.
You will not have him.
I directed the silent scream at the brand on my wrist, at the lingering shade of Damien's power that it represented. I was a mother, and I would not let my child die.
I reached deep within myself, past the pain, past the exhaustion, past the fear. I reached for the core of my power, the wellspring of life that was my birthright. I had only ever coaxed it out, using it in gentle streams to heal and soothe. Now, I tore down the floodgates.
An inferno of pure, silver light erupted from my body.
It was not the gentle glow of healing; it was the raging, untamed fire of creation itself. The light was so bright it blasted through the walls of the hut, causing the entire valley to be momentarily bathed in a second, more brilliant dawn. Inside the room, the energy was a physical force, a tidal wave of life that was both terrifying and beautiful.
Maeve cried out, shielding her eyes.
The silver fire surged down my arm and slammed into the brand. The cursed mark sizzled, the dark magic woven into it shrieking like a dying thing as the pure, life-affirming energy of the Moon Goddess incinerated it. The brand fought back, its blackish-purple light flaring in a last, desperate act of defiance, but it was like a single shadow trying to stand against the sun.
With a final, explosive crack, the curse shattered.
The brand on my wrist flashed white-hot, and then the dark energy was gone, utterly and completely annihilated.
In the sudden, peaceful silence that followed, I gave one last, final push. And then, the most beautiful sound I had ever heard filled the room: the strong, healthy cry of my newborn son.
Maeve, her face streaked with tears of awe and relief, quickly cleaned him and placed him in my arms. He was perfect. He had a dusting of fine, black hair, but when he opened his eyes, they were a stunning, impossible sapphire blue, the exact shade of Lucian's.
I held him close, my heart overflowing with a love so powerful it left no room for anything else. I was exhausted, drained to my very core, but I was victorious.
I looked down at my wrist. The ugly, weeping brand was gone. In its place was a faint, silvery scar, shaped like the rune of severance, but clean and pure, shimmering faintly like moonlight on water. It was no longer a mark of shame, but a symbol of my first true victory. A reminder that I had faced the darkest part of Damien's legacy and I had destroyed it.
Outside, Lucian, who had been thrown back by the blast of light, finally scrambled to his feet. He heard the baby's cry, and the sound of his own ragged, relieved sob echoed in the quiet morning air. He was a father. And the woman he had sworn to protect, the mother of his child in all but blood, had just proven herself to be a queen.