Seraphine sat alone in her chamber, wrapped in silence and shadow.
The fire had burned low, its embers pulsing like dying hearts. Outside, the wind howled through the palace corridors, whispering secrets only the dead could understand.
She pressed a trembling hand to her belly.
It was quiet inside her now.
Too quiet.
"Are you still there?" she whispered.
No response.
For the first time since the Blood Moon, the voice had gone silent.
Seraphine should have felt relief.
Instead, she felt dread.
***
The knock at the door startled her.
"Your Majesty," came Kael's voice from the other side. "May I enter?"
She hesitated before answering. "Yes."
Kael stepped inside, his armor darkened by rain, his eyes sharp with concern.
"You look pale," he said simply.
"I feel worse," she admitted.
He crossed the room and knelt beside her, placing a cautious hand on her shoulder.
"She hasn't spoken in hours," Seraphine murmured. "Not once."
Kael frowned. "That's not normal."
"No," she agreed. "It isn't."
A pause.
Then, softly: "Maybe it's over."
Seraphine shook her head. "No. It's just beginning."
***
They were wrong.
It began with a slow, deep ache beneath her ribs—like something stretching, expanding. Then came the pressure, pressing outward against her flesh, searching for an escape.
Seraphine gasped, clutching her stomach.
"Something's happening."
Kael drew his sword instinctively, scanning the room for unseen threats.
Seraphine doubled over, breath coming in short, shallow bursts.
The pain exploded through her abdomen.
White-hot.
Ripping.
Her scream tore through the chamber like broken glass.
Kael dropped to his knees beside her, gripping her shoulders.
"Seraphine!"
She couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe.
All she could feel was the tearing inside her—sharp, deliberate.
"There," the voice whispered at last, soft and satisfied.
"Now I can grow."
Seraphine collapsed onto the floor, her body shaking violently.
Blood pooled around her—thick, black, unnatural.
Kael tore open her gown, revealing the source.
Her belly was marred by a jagged wound—not surgical, not accidental.
It looked like teeth marks.
Tiny, perfect rows of them, sunk deep into her flesh.
He staggered back.
"What the hell did that?"
Seraphine coughed, blood spilling from her lips.
"She bit me," she whispered.
Kael stared at her.
"She bit you?"
Seraphine met his gaze, eyes wide with terror.
"The child… she took her first bite."
***
Nyxara arrived moments later, summoned by frantic guards.
She took one look at Seraphine and went pale.
"This shouldn't be possible," she whispered.
Kael stood protectively between them. "What do you mean?"
Nyxara crouched beside the queen, inspecting the wound carefully.
"This is not a miscarriage," she murmured. "This is not even birth. This is consumption."
Kael clenched his jaw. "You mean she's feeding on her?"
Nyxara nodded grimly. "Yes. But not for sustenance. For power."
Seraphine groaned, clutching her belly.
"It hurts," she whimpered. "It hurts so much."
Nyxara placed a calming hand on her forehead. "I know. But we must keep you awake. If you fall asleep, she may take more than just a bite."
Kael turned to her sharply. "More?"
Nyxara's expression was grave. "If she keeps feeding like this, she'll grow faster. Stronger."
"And what happens when there's nothing left of Seraphine to feed on?"
Nyxara didn't answer.
Because they both knew the truth.
Then Aeloria would be born.
And the world would never be the same.
***
Later that night, Seraphine lay weak but conscious, wrapped in bandages soaked in protective oils.
Kael stood watch beside her bed, his sword resting across his lap.
Nyxara sat nearby, flipping through the pages of The Womb Codex .
"There are records of this," she muttered. "Of a child who fed upon its mother while still in the womb."
Kael glanced up. "What happened to them?"
Nyxara closed the book slowly.
"They died screaming."
Silence stretched between them.
Then, faintly:
"I liked the taste."
Kael stiffened.
Seraphine stirred, her breathing shallow.
"Soon," the voice whispered.
"Soon, I'll be ready."
Kael tightened his grip on his sword.
"Not if I kill you first."
A giggle echoed from within Seraphine's chest.
"Try."
***
By morning, Seraphine had begun to change.
Her skin was paler, almost translucent. Her veins pulsed faintly red beneath the surface, like rivers of molten gold.
She no longer needed sleep.
Her heartbeat had slowed.
She hadn't aged—but she had shifted , as though caught between life and death.
Nyxara watched her carefully.
"You're becoming something else," she said softly.
Seraphine touched her face, feeling the coldness beneath her fingertips.
"I know."
Kael stepped forward. "We need to leave the palace. Before the council comes for you."
Seraphine met his gaze.
"They already know," she whispered. "She told me."
"They're afraid," the voice added.
"Good."
***
Outside the castle walls, the sky darkened.
A storm gathered on the horizon.
But it wasn't natural.
Lightning crackled in unnatural patterns, forming symbols in the clouds.
Old symbols.
Forgotten ones.
Nyxara stepped onto the balcony, staring at the sky.
"This is not just weather," she murmured. "This is awakening."
Kael joined her.
"What do you mean?"
She turned to him, fear flickering in her pale eyes.
"The Devouring Child has taken her first bite."
She looked toward the east, where the wind carried whispers only the mad could hear.
"The cycle has begun."