The night was quiet.
Too quiet.
Myrelion had just returned from a solo scouting mission outside the capital walls, his cloak damp from the rain. As he stepped through the front door of his Thaelorian estate, he felt it—something was wrong.
Then he heard it.
A scream.
High-pitched. Raw.
Lira.
He bolted through the house, kicking open the door to her room. She was on the floor, clutching her stomach, sweat pouring down her face.
"Myrelion—!" she cried. "I-I think it's time! The babies—!"
Without hesitation, Myrelion knelt beside her, catching her trembling form. He'd faced monsters. Slain sorcerers. But this? This panic in her eyes shook him to his core.
He picked her up gently and placed her on the bed, yelling for the housemaid and sending a shadow raven spell for the midwife.
Hours blurred.
Lira screamed through the pain, sweat soaking her dress, her hands crushing Myrelion's as he stayed by her side. Her fox ears twitched with every wave of pain, her breathing shallow—but her eyes never let go of his.
"You're strong," he whispered, holding her forehead. "You're not alone."
"I'm scared…"
"I'm here."