Iceland was beautiful, but cold more than just the biting wind or the endless snow. It was isolation carved into frost and fire, and Lyria felt it in every bone. Her aunt's small cabin offered warmth and safety, but the world she had left behind Kael, the forest, her pack was never far from her thoughts.
The first morning she woke, she pressed a hand to her belly, a fluttering warmth answering her touch. At first, she thought it was the cold, but instinct whispered otherwise. Her heart stuttered. She was carrying Kael's children their blood, their legacy, hidden from the world.
Her wolf instincts roared in her mind, protective, urgent. She could feel the pulse of life inside her, delicate and dangerous, and a fierce determination settled over her. She would protect them. She would hide them. She would survive for them.
The nights were hardest. Dreams of Kael haunted her golden eyes blazing, molten desire, possessive, jealous, impossible to resist. She would wake trembling, pulse hammering, wishing she could feel his heat, his fire, his arms around her. And yet, the threat of discovery, the weight of duty, pressed her back into isolation.
Her aunt, the only one she trusted, became her confidante. "You're carrying something extraordinary," her aunt said one evening, knitting by the fire. "The children… they are a bridge. You must protect them. No one can know not yet."
Lyria nodded, tears falling freely, warmed by the small, flickering fire. She pressed her hand to her belly again. "I will protect them. I will survive… even if it means never seeing Kael again."
Yet, instinctively, she could feel him Kael. The Vampire King's obsession, molten and relentless, tugging at her, crossing oceans and borders. She shivered, half with longing, half with fear. His jealousy would consume him when he sensed her absence, and she could not risk him knowing the children yet.
Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. She adapted to the Icelandic cold, to snowstorms that painted the world white, to the silence that both comforted and tormented her. She walked the frozen cliffs alone, wolf instincts alert, imagining Kael hunting, searching, obsessed with her.
Every night, she dreamed of his golden eyes, molten with desire and jealousy. Every night, she pressed a hand to her belly, whispering promises to the twins growing inside her: "I will keep you safe. I will bring you home."
And in the shadows, the world beyond Iceland shifted. Humans experimented, building weapons of destruction, targeting wolves and vampires alike. The forest she had left, the lands she loved, were no longer safe. But Lyria was determined. Her children highblood twins, a secret forged from forbidden love were the only hope for survival.
Five years of waiting, of hiding, of longing stretched before her. And still, despite the distance, the ice, and the secrets, the bond with Kael burned in her blood, molten and unbreakable, even if he did not yet know of their children.