The universe has only ever known two kinds of births.
Those that bring life.
And those that demand it.
This one will do neither.
⸻
The contraction does not feel like pain.
It feels like alignment.
My body arches as the planetary lattice tightens in rhythm with my blood, every stabilizing thread Zane and the heir built snapping into a single coordinated pulse. The sky above Blood Moon burns with spiraling aurora as nourishment and containment fold into one impossible architecture.
Zane grips my shoulders, eyes blazing with terror and devotion in equal measure.
“It’s starting,” he growls. “Not the kind they tried to force.”
Jason staggers at the edge of the sanctum, screaming data into unraveling consoles.
“The birth sequence is synchronizing with the planetary bind! This child’s
