The silence in the healer's hut was thick enough to drown in. Rhea sat motionless on the examination cot, her hand unconsciously drifting over her belly as she processed the weight of what Lysandra had revealed. Not just a child but the child. The one whispered of in moon blessed prophecies. A soul untouched by darkness.
"I don't understand," Rhea whispered finally, her voice hoarse. "How could my child carry something so ancient, so powerful? I'm just"
"You are not just anything," Lysandra interrupted, her gaze piercing. "You are the Luna of prophecy, Rhea. The curse that binds this land doesn't merely thrive on death it recoils from purity, from new beginnings. Your child isn't only yours and Callum's. It's the realm's hope."
Rhea's breath hitched.
Her child. She hadn't let herself think of the baby that way yet. Not beyond the practicalities of survival and protection. But now… now it felt like the world had tilted. Every heartbeat beneath her ribs echoed like a war drum. Every breath she took was heavier with meaning.
"Does Callum know?"
"No," Lysandra replied. "And for now, it must stay that way."
Rhea turned sharply. "Why?"
"Because love, no matter how true, is still bound by memory. His mind is fragmented. Until it's whole again, telling him would endanger both you and the child. He must remember you not be told who you are."
Rhea's heart thudded painfully in her chest. It wasn't just that he didn't remember their love. It was that he might never remember, and she'd have to face the future alone. She had already endured exile, betrayal, and near death. But this? Raising a child in a world that sought to devour it?
Suddenly, a faint howl echoed in the distance low and mournful, threaded with desperation.
Lysandra stiffened. "He's waking."
Rhea stood slowly, her hand still on her belly. "What do I do?"
The seer's eyes softened. "Protect your child. Shield the light within. The darkness is already stirring again. You've seen the signs."
Rhea nodded slowly. She recalled the odd behavior of the forest how animals had begun fleeing deeper into the woods, how the moon sometimes pulsed crimson behind clouds. Even the pack's wolves were restless, agitated. Something was coming. Something worse than betrayal. Worse than exile.
And it wanted her child.
As Lysandra stepped away to gather herbs, Rhea felt a sudden pressure ripple through her abdomen not painful, but powerful. A pulse, like a second heartbeat. Ancient. Otherworldly.
Her child was growing.
And so was the danger.
---
That evening, Rhea stood at the edge of the pack's clearing. The moon hung heavy and swollen above, casting a pale silver glow over the encampment. Fires crackled softly. The wolves kept their distance from her now not with suspicion, but awe. Ever since the truth of her innocence had begun to resurface, whispers of her return as Luna had rekindled.
But she felt no triumph.
Only burden.
Only destiny.
She wandered slowly past the circle of wolves, their gazes flicking up at her with reverence. The scars of her banishment had not yet faded. Not from her skin. Not from her soul. But in their eyes, she had already returned no longer outcast, but chosen.
She paused beneath an ancient elm, where she and Callum used to meet under the stars. She traced the bark with her fingers, as if it could recall their laughter, their vows, the warmth of his touch. A tear slipped free before she could stop it.
Then, the wind changed.
Callum emerged from the treeline, his shirt torn, his eyes wild not with violence, but confusion. His gaze landed on her and stopped.
For a moment, it was as if time ceased.
"Rhea…" he said, her name like a foreign word on his tongue.
She took a step forward.
His hand clenched at his side. "Why do I feel like I know you?"
She swallowed back tears. "Because you do," she whispered. "You always have."
His eyes searched hers blue ice thawing to hesitant flame. Something flickered in them. Pain. Recognition. A longing just out of reach.
He stepped closer. "I remember… a voice. A scent. It calms the storm in my head."
Rhea's lips trembled. "That's me."
He touched his temple, eyes closing briefly. "Every time I hear your name, it's like lightning behind my eyes."
She reached for him, but just before their fingers touched, the earth beneath them trembled.
A rumble. A warning.
Then a scream tore through the night from the eastern ridge.
Wolves howled. Fires flared. Panic rippled through the camp.
Rhea's eyes locked with Callum's.
"It's begun," she whispered.
Without hesitation, Callum shifted bones snapping, fur tearing through skin. He launched toward the scream with a speed that blurred the night air.
Rhea followed on foot, her heart hammering. She wasn't a warrior, not like the others, but she would not hide. Not when the danger was here. Not when it might be seeking her child.
The eastern ridge was lit with scattered flames. A group of pack members circled something or someone on the ground. Rhea pushed through them, breathless.
A young girl lay twisted in the dirt, her eyes wide with terror. Claw marks scored the earth around her, but no attacker was visible.
"What happened?" Rhea demanded.
"She said… something pulled her from the shadows," one of the sentries said. "Something cold. With eyes like smoke."
Rhea knelt beside the girl. "Can you speak, little one?"
The girl blinked, trembling. "It whispered to me. Said the light must die. That the child must not be born."
Silence fell like a blade.
Lysandra appeared, her face grim. "The darkness has begun to manifest. It's no longer hiding in curses or rumors. It's here. And it knows."
Rhea rose slowly, her hand once again over her womb. The child within pulsed again stronger now. Like it, too, had heard the threat.
"This isn't just war," Rhea murmured. "It's a reckoning."
Lysandra nodded. "You'll need allies beyond this pack. The Forgotten Vale. The Moonborn. Even the witches of Ashfen Hollow. All must choose a side."
"And what if they don't?" Rhea asked.
"Then we face oblivion."
The wind picked up, curling around them with a low growl. Far in the distance, beyond the trees and firelight, the shadows watched and waited.
And in Rhea's belly, the child of prophecy stirred, its heartbeat steady against the night.