he receiver does not wake with a scream.
It wakes with a whisper.
A faint pressure curls through my blood just before dawn—subtle as the memory of pain rather than pain itself. The heir stirs in my womb with a slow, uneasy turn that is not fear… but awareness.
Something has shifted.
Not near us.
Far away.
Still connected.
I sit upright in the low light of the sanctum, breath tight in my chest. Zane is asleep in the chair beside the bed, his hand still loosely resting over my belly as if his body never learned how to stop guarding.
The bond hums faintly.
Steady.
Strong.
And yet—
Underneath it, barely perceptible, a foreign rhythm begins to pulse.
Once.
Twice.
Gone.
My blood goes cold.
⸻
Jason confirms it an hour later.
His magic array is lit in frantic blue as he recalibr
