It begins, as most magical mischief does in Crescent Moon Pack, with too many pastries, unchecked sarcasm, and two very smug she-wolves tempting fate.
Sasha and Lexie lounge like two queens on the Beta house patio, their feet propped on enchanted footstools that massage tired soles and hum soft lullabies. They're surrounded by steaming mugs of cinnamon-hazelnut brew, half-eaten blueberry danishes, and a shameful number of bakery wrappers fluttering like fallen autumn leaves.
A breeze...no doubt summoned by some bored woodland spirit...drifts lazily through the trees. Wind chimes tinkle above like mischievous laughter from the stars. A squirrel, perched on a nearby branch, narrows its eyes at them with unholy judgment, its twitching tail clearly tallying their sins.
Lexie licks icing off her thumb, sighing dramatically. "So...Darius is now a certified mate-zombie."
"Mate-zilla," Sasha corrects with a regal nod, sipping from her mug. "The man is one backwards heartbeat away from wrapping Cassandra in enchanted bubble wrap and installing padded floors."
"I caught him yesterday glaring at the garden hose like it was a potential threat to her womb."
Sasha mock-gasps. "Not the evil hose!"
They burst into laughter, collapsing against each other like tipsy witches. Sasha stretches luxuriously, arms overhead, basking in the smug glow of schadenfreude. "Honestly? I'm just glad it's not us. Let them deal with hormone hurricanes and mood tornadoes. I'm quite content sleeping through the night and not crying at perfume ads."
Lexie raises her mug in a dramatic toast. "To freedom. And dry eyes."
They clink their cups, grinning in solidarity.
And just like that, the Moon Goddess hums.
It starts as a vibration, low and ancient. The air thickens...not ominously, but with a mischievous glee, like the universe is leaning in, waiting for the punchline. Leaves rustle unnaturally. The breeze turns colder and...sparkly. Somewhere in the distance, a fox sneezes.
Sasha blinks. Then frowns.
Lexie immediately picks up on it. "What?"
Sasha lowers her cup, hand sliding protectively to her stomach. "I...don't know. I just felt this...flip. Like weird magic butterflies. Like...something I had forgotten, now a glaring reminder."
Lexie leans forward, serious now. "Felt what? Forgotten what? Cramps? Nausea? Rogue enchantments?"
"It's like my stomach did a cartwheel. And...Moon help me...I've been dizzy all week. And crying. Aidan thought I was possessed."
"You did cry during that soup commercial," Lexie says flatly. "The one with the floating carrots."
"It was heart warming!" Sasha defends, voice cracking.
Lexie's eyes widen, something clicking into place. Her voice rises an octave. "No. No, no, no. I've had fairy root tea daily. Daily!"
"You steeped it in cinnamon water," Sasha reminds her gently.
Lexie gasps as if struck. "Cinnamon cancels the potion?!"
Sasha nods with exaggerated slowness, lips pursed.
Lexie stares at her mug like it betrayed her. The squirrel lets out a single ominous chirp, tail twitching in judgmental confirmation.
They don't even finish their pastries...which, in this pack, is the truest sign of emergency.
By the time they burst through the clinic doors, both are pale and breathing like marathon runners.
Dr. Reid doesn't even look up from his notes.
"You two again," he mutters, reaching for their files with the weariness of a man who has witnessed too many magical mishaps. "What now? Did someone turn the Alpha's hair into flowers again?"
Sasha drops into the nearest chair. "We think we might be..."
"Hexed," Lexie interrupts. "Mildly hexed."
Dr. Reid's eyebrow twitches. "Symptoms?"
"Heightened emotions, nausea, glowing skin, possible prophetic soup dreams," Sasha lists.
"I sobbed at a picnic cloud. It looked like a sleeping pup," Lexie adds, pulling a sweater over her face.
Dr. Reid stands. Walks behind them. Flicks his diagnostic charm with a sigh.
It glows a vibrant, unmistakable swirl of pink and blue.
"Congratulations," he says flatly. "You're both pregnant."
Sasha freezes. Lexie.. lets out a sound that is part wheeze, part scream.
Lexie stammers, "You didn't even...You can't...You didn't run any tests!"
Dr. Reid gestures at the still-glowing charm. "The charm ran them. It's literally glowing. Honestly, the last time it glowed this bright, it was because someone ate an entire enchanted fertility pie."
"That pie said 'good luck' in cursive," Sasha mutters.
Dr. Reid hands them enchanted wellness pouches and a folder labelled So You've Been Chosen by the Moon Goddess: A Survival Guide for the Bewildered. "Tell your mates gently. Or don't. I don't care. But you might want to do it before the Moon throws in something extra, like twins. Or prophecy babies."
Lexie narrows her eyes. "What's a prophecy baby?"
"You don't want to know."
Back at the main house, Darius, Michael, and Aidan are deep in strategy mode. The conference table is covered in maps, glowing runes, and a suspiciously large bowl of trail mix.
"We need more subtle perimeter traps," Michael argues. "Last time you triggered your own enchantment and shouted at a tree for five minutes."
Darius glares. "That tree was being smug."
"It was a tree."
Aidan raises a brow. "To be fair, it did resemble your father during a lecture."
Before anyone can respond, the conference door creaks open.
Lexie and Sasha step inside like two women returning from war. Cassandra, oblivious to the building storm, trails behind, giggling with Grace about Luna ceremonies and moonbeam spa ideas.
Lexie strides to Michael, takes both his hands.
He frowns. "You look suspiciously affectionate. What did you blow up?"
"Michael," she says softly, her voice shaking, "you're going to be a father."
Dead silence.
Michael stares at her. Then at her stomach. Then at her again.
And promptly faints.
Aidan, without flinching, catches him mid-fall. "I am not dragging him to the infirmary again."
Sasha steps forward and clears her throat. "So...funny story."
"No," Aidan says immediately, backing up a step.
"I might also be pregnant."
He blinks. Looks from her to Lexie, then to the ceiling, as if hoping the gods will provide clarification or liquor.
Then he turns to Darius. "Do you still have that emergency whiskey stash?"
Cassandra's eyes snap wide. "Wait...what?!"
Lexie fans Michael, who's babbling about emergency checklists and magical baby-proofing spells. Sasha flops into a chair like a knight after battle, eyes glazed.
Darius stares at both women, speechless for the first time in recorded history.
Grace walks in, freezing when she sees the chaos. "Sasha?"
Sasha lifts a hand weakly. "Hey, Mom. Surprise?"
There's a beat of stunned silence...then Grace lets out a delighted laugh, clapping her hands together. "Pups. One moon cycle. The Goddess is showing off."
Luke saunters in with a mug of something suspiciously alcoholic, surveying the room with an amused smile. "Do we need to build a nursery wing or an ark?"
Darius groans, rubbing his temples. "This is going to be chaos."
Cassandra, still reeling, grabs Sasha's hand. "You mean I'm not the only one?"
"Nope," Sasha sighs. "Welcome to the club. We have mood swings and midnight snack rations."
Grace is practically glowing. "Pups! This is the future of the pack."
Luke leans down to whisper, "We're going to need a bigger house."
Grace whispers back, "We're going to need a second pack."
Michael begins to wake, whispering nonsense about baby spreadsheets and crib defence systems. Lexie gently slaps him. "No, you may not name the baby 'Spreadsheetius.'"
Sasha raises her mug high, voice ringing with mock-seriousness. "To the Moon and her chaotic sense of humour."
The room groans, but laughter soon follows.
The inner circle is growing.
The future is arriving faster than expected.
And Crescent Moon Pack is about to get much, much louder.