Mae didn't even get the chance to speak. The Sphere, so still and wise just moments before, shifted again. Its glow darkened into a deep, opalescent violet. Then it began to swirl with motion, like galaxies colliding, and a pulse shot through the room like a heartbeat. It was now. It was showing them what was happening inside her, right now.
Two sparks. Two distinct flickers of life, one golden, one soft blue. Spiraling toward the center of her womb like twin comets drawn to the same gravitational core. Alive. Forming. Becoming.
Mae gripped the edge of the pedestal, stunned. Riven, eyes wide, moved beside her, one arm slipping around her waist, steadying her as the vision deepened. "That's," he swallowed, eyes locked on the twin lights, "that's them." He looked at her, stunned. "Mae. We need to tell Ash." But before she could even turn, a voice, quiet and low, broke through the air like a slow crack of thunder. "Tell me what?" Ashar. He stood at the entrance, the glow of the Sphere reflected in his eyes. His gaze moved from Riven's hand on her waist to the projection. Then he froze.
His breath left him, but he said nothing. The Sphere didn't lie. "Is it true?" he asked, voice rougher than usual. Mae opened her mouth, but no words came. Her lips trembled. Her knees felt loose beneath her. She tried to nod. Tried to breathe. But it all crumbled too fast. Tears came instead. Hot. Silent. Unstoppable. "I was supposed to die," she whispered, voice breaking as she stepped back from the Sphere. "Just a week ago. I wasn't supposed to live past the auction. And now I'm" She looked between the two of them.
"pregnant. Twice. By both of you." Ashar moved toward her fast, but without aggression. Something about him now was different, softer, but stronger all at once. He didn't say a word. He just caught her, pulling her into his arms. Then Riven was there, behind her, arms folding over both of them, anchoring her in the middle of two men whose lives were now permanently tied to hers. Mae didn't fight it. She collapsed into them, the weight of it all too heavy to carry on her own. She wasn't angry. She wasn't sad. She was overwhelmed. The kind of overwhelmed that had no words, only tears and breathing and needing to feel the two anchors that steadied her heart.
"I thought we'd have time," she whispered, her voice muffled by Ashar's chest. "So did I," Ashar said into her hair. "We all did," Riven added, holding tighter. "But time never played fair with you." She shook her head. "I caused this."
"No," Ashar said gently. "We did."
"Together," Riven added.
They stood there, the three of them knotted in silence. A small, impossible family forming in the wake of ancient ruins and lost worlds. And within Mae, two sparks continued to glow. Not just children. But legacies. The castle was too quiet. Mae, Ashar, and Riven walked back in from the outer sanctum, shoulders brushing, breaths in sync, still recovering from the weight of what they'd learned. But the moment they stepped inside, they heard it. Raised voices. Accusations. Lucien's sharp tone. Sethis swearing under his breath. The unmistakable steel in someone's voice that only came from betrayal. Ashar stopped mid-step.
Riven's jaw clenched. Mae took one more step forward, and that's when they heard it clearly: "There was a tracker, Kaine! In your gear. You were the only one separated during the last jump. You think we wouldn't notice?" Mae's breath caught. She pushed past them both. "What?" They entered the room just as Kaine stood, defiant, surrounded by the others. A small, blinking shard lay on the table, still glowing, its signal pulsing with slow dread. Ashar didn't say a word. But his rage was instant.
One blink, and he moved. He lunged. Not like a man, like a force. Kaine barely had time to lift his hands before Ashar slammed him into the wall, arm across his throat.
Riven didn't try to stop him. He joined him, stepping beside his brother-in-arms, gaze narrowed with betrayal. "You had a tracker on you," Riven growled. "After everything?" Mae stood still. Frozen. Her heart thundered, but it wasn't fear. Not this time. It was pain. Kaine struggled against the wall, voice hoarse. "It wasn't what it looks like-"
"Then what is it, Kaine?" Lucien snapped. "Because it looks like you sold us all out."
"I didn't know it was active! It was insurance, just in case!" That was worse. Mae stared at him. At all of them. The arguing. The accusations. The violence. She had spent days thinking they were becoming something more, something safe.
A family, even if a broken one. But now, one of them, Kaine, the one who'd been so aggressive, so intense, had been the breach. Mae's heart broke. She didn't scream. She didn't speak. But the energy inside her snapped. Light burst around her like a collapsing star. Her knees buckled as her hands clenched at her sides, and a power, raw and ancient, surged from her skin in a wave. Not outward. Not explosive. But inward. The air around her pulsed and bent. The room dimmed, warped slightly, colors deepening as if the space was holding its breath.
Everyone turned to her, frozen. The power coiled around her like a second skin, humming and alive, emotional, hurting, spiraling. Ashar turned from Kaine immediately. "Mae!" Riven stepped toward her, but even he paused. The pain in her was a storm. And it didn't want to be soothed. It didn't lash out. It didn't destroy. But it left her shaking, skin glowing faintly gold and silver, like the suns had bled into her. Her eyes locked with Kaine's, and in that moment, he saw it. What he had broken. Not trust. Not loyalty. But something deeper. "I thought, we were safe," she said quietly, voice thick and trembling. "I thought I could trust you. After everything." And then she turned. Walked away. Ashar didn't follow her. Riven didn't either.
Because for the first time, even they didn't know how to reach her.