Vance arrived at noon with a portable ultrasound machine that looked more expensive than my father's entire house.
We set it up in the master bedroom. The curtains were drawn to block out the harsh sunlight, creating a womb-like atmosphere.
"Nervous?" Vance asked, squirting the gel onto my belly.
"Terrified," Killian answered from his spot beside the bed. He was gripping my hand so tight I was losing circulation. The black mark on his chest was visible under his unbuttoned shirt, quiet for now.
"Relax, Dad," Vance smirked. "Let's see who's winning the wrestling match inside."
The familiar whoosh-whoosh of heartbeats filled the room. It was strong, chaotic, and beautiful.
"Alright, here is Baby A," Vance said, pointing to the blob on the left. "This one is sitting high. Very active. And... yep."
He froze the image.
"It's a boy," Vance announced. "A very... well-endowed boy. Definitely takes after his father."
Killian let out a breath, a proud grin splitting his face. "A son. An Heir."
"Is he the..." I hesitated, glancing at the mark on Killian's chest. "Is he the Dark one?"
Vance moved the wand. We all watched Killian's chest. The black sun mark remained dormant.
"No reaction," Vance noted. "This boy feels... light. Calm energy. He's the Savior."
I let out a sigh of relief. A son. A healthy, light-filled son.
"Now for Baby B," Vance moved the wand lower, to the right. "This is the one that's been giving you backaches. Sitting low. Very stubborn."
The image cleared on the screen.
We all leaned in.
"Another boy?" Killian asked, squinting.
Vance frowned. He adjusted the contrast. He checked again.
Then, he started laughing. A dry, disbelief-filled laugh.
"Well, I'll be damned," Vance muttered. "It's not a boy."
"What?" Killian and I said in unison.
"It's a girl," Vance announced, looking at us with wide eyes. "A Princess."
The room went silent.
A girl?
I looked at the screen. There she was. Tiny. Perfect. Curled up in a ball.
And then it happened.
The moment the image of the baby girl appeared clearly on the screen, the mark on Killian's chest flared.
HISS.
It glowed a violent, pitch black. Black veins shot out instantly, crawling up his neck. Killian groaned, grabbing his chest, his eyes flashing from blue to black.
The connection was instant. Undeniable.
"The girl..." Killian gasped, his voice strained as he absorbed a wave of sudden, infant rage. "It's her."
I stared at the screen in shock.
The Destroyer. The Demon Wolf. The one prophesied to bring ruin to the world... was a girl?
"She is the Dark Twin," Vance whispered, the humor gone from his voice. "Nature has a twisted sense of humor. The boy is the shield. The girl is the sword."
Fear spiked in my chest. Not for me, but for her.
"A girl..." I whispered. "Killian, she's going to be so strong. So dangerous. How will we protect her? The world will want her dead."
Killian's breathing was heavy as he fought to control the surge of darkness flowing from his tiny daughter. Slowly, the veins receded. He regained control.
He looked at the screen. At the tiny, dangerous creature that was currently causing him agony.
He didn't look afraid.
He looked... completely, hopelessly in love.
He reached out and touched the screen, tracing the outline of her tiny head.
"Let the world try," he growled softly. "If she is a monster, then she will be my monster."
He turned to me, his eyes fierce.
"A son to rule the Kingdom," he declared. "And a daughter to burn it down if anyone touches us."
I looked at the boy and the girl on the screen. The Savior and the Destroyer.
"Dragon and Phoenix," I whispered the old term for mixed twins. "Perfect balance."
"We're going to need a lot of pink," Vance deadpanned, packing up his machine. "And maybe a flamethrower. Good luck, you two."
As Vance left, Killian climbed into bed beside me, careful of his new "boss"—the little girl in my lower belly.
"A daughter," he whispered again, sounding terrified and delighted. "Elena, I'm in trouble. She already owns me."
"She owns your pain," I corrected gently, kissing the mark on his chest.
"No," Killian smiled, resting his hand over the spot where she lay. "She owns my heart. And Goddess help any boy who looks at her when she turns sixteen."