The domestic affairs of this boisterous family continued for exactly twelve days.
For nearly two weeks, the stone walls of the den echoed with the quiet coos of little Zariyah, the low, vibrating rumbles of a deeply devoted black dragon, and the endless, whispered bickering over baby garments and nursery temperatures.
It was a peaceful, fragile pocket of time carved out of a brutal world—but Hana was not the type of woman to let peace breed complacency.
On the morning of the thirteenth day, Hana woke up without the heavy ache that had plagued her lower abdomen since the delivery. She shifted her weight, testing her legs beneath the sheets, and realized with a wave of satisfaction that the internal soreness was entirely gone.
The stubborn medical stitches had finally cleared and dissolved, completely handled by the advanced passive regeneration traits tied to her primal bonds.
