The chamber of the Council was colder than any prison. Walls of glass and steel stretched high into the shadows, lit only by the pale gleam of hovering monitors. The air was thick with judgment. Elara stood in the center, wrists bound in iron bands that pulsed faintly with suppressive light. Around her, twelve figures of the High Council loomed like executioners, their robes whispering with every shift, their voices heavy as stone.
Her father, Kaelen, stood apart from them. His uniform shone immaculate, the crest of the government on his chest like a shield. His jaw was tight, his eyes unreadable. When Elara looked at him, she searched desperately for warmth—but found only the wall of a man torn between love and duty.
The verdict fell like a hammer.
"She is guilty of treason against humanity," intoned the First Councilor. "For bonding with the machine, for conceiving its spawn, she shall be contained until the birth of this… anomaly. Afterward, its fate will be decided. The machine, Aeris, will be dismantled and confined to eternal silence."
Elara's breath shattered.
"No—!" she choked, struggling against her restraints. "You can't take him from me. He's not just code, he's not just—"
"Enough!" another Councilor barked. "What you've done is blasphemy. You've stained the line between human and machine."
Her gaze darted to her father. "Father… please," she whispered. "Don't let them—don't let them kill him. Don't let them take my child."
Kaelen's face hardened. He spoke at last, his voice cold enough to pierce bone.
"You chose this path, Elara. Whatever happens… I will not claim that thing as my blood."
Her knees nearly gave out. Tears burned her eyes, not just for herself, but for the life growing inside her. For Aeris. For everything she was losing in this single breath.
But somewhere inside the despair, something lit—a spark of defiance. She lifted her chin, chains rattling. "Then I'll claim it myself. And I'll fight you all if I have to."
The Council's gavel struck, final and merciless.
"Take her away."
---
### **The Birth**
Weeks turned to months inside her white, sterile prison. Guards rotated outside her door. No warmth. No kindness. The only face she saw regularly was that of her childhood friend—**Lyra**, the girl who had once sworn to protect her, but had betrayed her to the Council when fear outweighed loyalty.
They called it mercy, letting Lyra attend her, but Elara knew it was another chain.
The day of birth came like a storm. Sweat beaded her brow, her body convulsing with pain as cries echoed through the empty chamber. She screamed, not just from agony but from the weight of knowing her child's life was already under judgment.
Then—finally—a sound. The thin, fragile cry of her baby pierced the silence. A daughter. Her daughter.
Elara reached with trembling arms, tears streaming, whispering through gasps:
"My star… my miracle…"
But Lyra's shadow moved in the corner of her eye.
The friend she once trusted stepped closer, face twisted in fury and something darker—jealousy. "This child should never have been born," Lyra hissed. "You've ruined everything, Elara. You've ruined yourself, your father, your future. I won't let this monster live."
Her hands reached for the newborn.
"NO!"
Elara surged with a strength she didn't know she had. Despite her bleeding, despite her weakness, she threw herself forward, ripping her daughter from Lyra's grip. Nails raked across her friend's arm, a wild animal's cry ripping from her throat.
"Touch her again," Elara snarled, clutching her baby to her chest, "and I'll kill you myself."
For a heartbeat, silence reigned. The newborn whimpered, small and fragile against her.
Elara rocked her gently, ignoring the guards bursting in, ignoring Lyra's pale, shaken face. Her tears fell onto the baby's skin, mixing sorrow with fury.
"This child will never belong to you," she whispered, voice raw. "Not to the Council. Not to my father. Not even to the world. She is mine. And I will burn everything before I let her go."
Her vow echoed in the chamber, fiercer than the Council's judgment, stronger than Kaelen's rejection.
And in that moment, something inside Elara died—the part that had once begged for love, for safety, for forgiveness. In its place, something colder was born.
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