Harun jolted awake the moment Iruna's voice travelled to his ears .
He didn't even utter a word , he simply turned and bolted for the door, his fur cloak snapping behind him as he raced to find the physician. The sound of his departure echoed down the spiral staircase, leaving the room to the crackle of the fire and the sound of Iruna's sobbing.
Iruna collapsed toward the bed, her knees hitting the rug with a dull thud. She grabbed Zaliyah's hand, pressing his cold, thin fingers against her cheek. She was shaking so violently that her teeth chattered, her grey eyes spilling over with hot, fat tears that soaked into Zaliyah's skin.
Your highness ... How merciful is the voids,your highness i," she choked out, her voice a filled with relief. She began to pepper his hand with desperate kisses, as if she could pull the life back into him through her lips. "I really thought-we thought you would slip away.....I haven't slept, I haven't... you're here. Oh You're awake looking at me."
She looked up at him , her face a mask of tear-streaked joy. "Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere? Just stay still, please. Brother is getting the physician , Don't try to move, you're so thin..."
Zaliyah watched her, his mind was a swirling vortex of confusion. He remembered the heat of the portal. He remembered the desperate, salt-tasting kiss he had pressed against Kara's lips, and the way Kara's desperate pleading eyes had continuedly begged him to come with him .
He remembered the portal closing, the blue light fading away.
And then... nothing.
A Great darkness stretched between that moment and this one. He looked around the room, his eyes wide and searching. This wasn't the Capital. The walls were bare, they were different, the furniture was quite different, draped in thick, dark furs. He looked toward the window, which was cracked open just enough to let in a sliver of air that felt like ice. Outside, a wall of white snow fell relentlessly against a bruised, dark sky.
The Northwest, Zaliyah thought, he had read about this place back at the Royal library.
Did Malachi send me here? Did he move me to the northwest territory to protect me from the court? It was the only logic his fragmented mind could find. He assumed the "Bloodied Banquet" had ended in a riot, and Malachi, in a rare moment of mercy, had sent him away in this frozen fortress.
Suddenly, a rolling sensation moved within him. It was followed by a distinct, heavy thump against his internal organs.
Zaliyah's face twisted in a grimace of sudden discomfort. He gasped, but the sound died in his wounded throat.
"Is everything okay? Your Highness ...What is wrong?" Iruna cried, her hands hovering over him, terrified that he was slipping away again.
Zaliyah didn't answer. He couldn't. He stared down at the prominent, rounded mound of his stomach. His trembling skeletal hands reached out to touch the swell. Another kick-stronger this time. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a tumor.
He was indeed pregnant.
A wave of overwhelming emotion crashed over him. If this child was alive, if it was kicking with such ferocity, it meant he carried a piece of Karas. A living, breathing legacy of the man who had risked everything for him. He clutched the bump, his eyes glassing over. Did Karas get home? Is Riru safe? Is Mom still tending her vegetable garden, unaware that her grandson is kicking inside him in a frozen wasteland? The family he had left behind felt like a warm sun he could no longer see, but whose heat still lingered on his skin.
The door burst open. Harun returned, dragging the young physician by his sleeve. The physician stumbled, his eyes widening as they landed on the upright figure in the bed.
"How merciful is the void," the physician whispered, stepping forward with a mix of shock and professional curiosity. "He refuses to die. Truly, the Celestial spark is a stubborn thing."
He moved quickly, pressing his ears directly against Zaliyah's chest and checking the dilation of his pupils. He moved Zaliyah's jaw gently, peering into the raw, red interior of his mouth. Throughout the examination, Zaliyah remained passive, his eyes darting between the twins.
The physician checked the bump last, his hands moving with practiced ease. "Pulse is stable. Two steady heartbeats. The child is... exceptionally greedy, but healthy."
However, as he finished, the physicians facial expression changed to something grim . He looked at the twins, then back at Zaliyah, who was trying to form words with his lips.
"What is wrong?" Harun demanded, his voice hard. "Speak."
"He can't speak," the doctor said flatly.
Iruna's breath hitched. She looked at Zaliyah's scarred neck, the claw marks standing out like tattoos. "What do you mean he can't talk ? For-Forever?"
The physician shook his head. "The internal swelling is significant. The vocal cords were... crushed. He can't speak-at least for a week. Perhaps longer. He needs silence and the broths the human has been preparing."
A collective sigh of relief filled the room. A week was a pittance. After five months of death-like silence, a week of recovery was a gift they couldn't complain but ne greatful for.
Harun escorted the physician out, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his mind already spinning with the politics of Zaliyah's awakening.
Left alone, Iruna couldn't contain herself. She threw her arms around Zaliyah, burying her face in the crook of his neck and sobbing openly. "I really thought I was going to lose you," she stammered, her voice muffled by his hair. "Every night... I just watched you fade. I was so scared, brother and I....we were So scared."
Zaliyah, though confused by the depth of her grief, after all, in his mind, he had only been asleep for a day-felt the sincerity of her love.
He reached up, his movements slow and stiff, and caressed her hair. He hugged her back, his thin arms wrapping around her as he stared at the frost on the window.
The door opened again. Harun returned, but he wasn't alone. Behind him came the human chef, looking terrified but determined, followed by a line of maids carrying silver trays.
The smell hit Zaliyah like a physical blow. Roasted meat, thick vegetable broths, warm bread dripping with honey, and bowls of spiced grains.
His stomach roared-a deep hollow sound that echoed in the quiet room. He realized then that he wasn't just hungry, he was hangry.
Without waiting for a spoon, Zaliyah reached for a piece of bread. He began to eat with a primal, desperate greed. He didn't look like his usual reserved noble self . he looked like a trapped, starving beast. He tore into the meat, his eyes bloodshot and focused on nothing but the next bite. He drank the broth in great, messy gulps, the liquid dripping down his chin and onto the furs.
The twins watched in stunned silence. They had spent months trying to drip droplets of water into his mouth, and now he was consuming enough for three men. The baby wanted to be fed, and Zaliyah was finally answering the call.
In a different wing of the castle, the atmosphere was far more composed.
Xulthas sat by a floor-to-ceiling window in his study, a palette of oils in his hand. Outside, the blizzard was a chaotic mess of white and grey, but on Xulthas's canvas, it was a masterpiece of texture and light. He painted with an immaculate talent, his brushstrokes were precise.
Thalassa entered, her boots clicking softly on the slate. Beside her was the physician.
"He is awake," Thalassa said.
Xulthas didn't stop painting. He added a stroke of white to a drift of snow on the canvas. A small, dark smile played on his lips. "He refuses to die. Time and time again, he defies the natural order. It's almost admirable."
The physician stepped forward, clearing his throat. "There is a complication, commander. He has a fragmented memory.
He remembers the human, but his mind has completely blacked out the Banquet, the torture, and the fall. It seems his psyche has pushed out the trauma to protect itself from shattering."
Xulthas finally paused, his brush hovering in the air. His smile widened, becoming something dangerous and sharp. "Fragmented memory? How... convenient. He remembers the love, but forgets the betrayal." He turned to Thalassa, his green eyes glittering. "Keep it that way. If he thinks Malachi sent him here for protection, let him believe it. A hopeful bird is much easier to monitor than a broken one."
Back in Zaliyah's bedchambers the maids were rushing out with stacks of empty plates, only to be replaced by others bringing more. Zaliyah didn't stop until the last bowl of honeyed fruit was gone.
He leaned back against the pillows, his chest heaving. A loud, unrefined burp escaped his lips, echoing in the room.
He looked at the twins, his pale face flushing a deep, embarrassed crimson. He tried to hide his face behind his hands, a small, silent huff of a laugh escaping his throat.
Iruna giggled through her remaining tears, wiping her eyes. "I think he's officially back, brother."
"Even I would be tired if I ate like that," Harun answered, a rare, genuine smirk tugging at his mouth.
Zaliyah's eyes began to droop. The effort of eating and the sheer weight of the child were pulling him back into the depths of sleep. He had a thousand questions- Why is it so cold? Why can't I speak?-but his body was demanding a different kind of recovery.
Iruna stepped forward, gently arranging his pillows and pulling the heavy fur duvets up to his chin. She tucked the blankets around his bump, her touch lingering for a second on the life growing within.
"Sleep, your highness" she whispered. "Tomorrow, we'll find a way to talk. Tomorrow, everything will be clear."
She leaned down and kissed his forehead, . Harun stood by the door, nodding .
The twins walked out together as the door clicked shut. Outside, the snow continued to fall, burying coating the castle in a shroud of white. But inside, for the first time in five months, the "Mummy" was a man again, and the heart of the Northwest had finally begun to beat.