Chapter 5
1191 Words
THE PAST
The full moon hung heavy above Whitecliff Castle, so brilliant that its pale light transformed the ancient white stone walls into shimmering silver. Its radiance washed over every tower, battlement, and courtyard, cloaking the sprawling fortress in an almost sacred glow, as though the Moon Goddess herself had descended from the heavens to bear witness to a moment that would forever alter the fate of her children.
Within the queen's chamber, however, there was no beauty in the night.
Torchlight danced against richly woven tapestries, casting restless shadows that crawled across the walls like living things. The room was thick with the mingled scents of crushed herbs, burning oils, sweat, blood, and fear. Servants hurried anxiously from one corner to another, carrying steaming bowls of medicinal brews, fresh linens, and bundles of healing herbs while Whitecliff's most skilled healers crowded around the grand bed at the chamber's center.
Upon it lay Queen Serena Hale.
Every breath she drew was ragged.
Every cry that escaped her lips echoed through the chamber like a plea to the gods themselves.
Her trembling fingers dug into the silk sheets until her knuckles turned bone white. Golden strands of hair clung damply to her temples, soaked with perspiration as another contraction tore mercilessly through her body.
King Alaric Hale stood only a few paces away.
He had faced rogue wolves, rival Alphas, and b****y wars without ever flinching.
Yet nothing had prepared him for the sight of his mate suffering beyond anything he could protect her from.
His fists remained tightly clenched at his sides, his nails biting into his palms until blood trickled between his fingers. Every instinct screamed at him to take away her pain, but even the strongest Alpha in the kingdom was powerless against childbirth.
"Push, Your Majesty," the head midwife urged, kneeling beside the bed. Though her voice remained calm and practiced, worry flickered unmistakably within her tired eyes. "One more. The child is coming."
Serena nodded weakly.
She gathered every remaining ounce of strength within her aching body.
Then, with one final, heart-rending scream that seemed to shake the very walls of Whitecliff Castle, she pushed.
A newborn's cry shattered the silence.
For one suspended heartbeat, the entire chamber froze.
Then relief washed over every face.
"A boy," one of the healers whispered, her voice breaking into joyful laughter.
"A prince!"
The infant wailed furiously, his tiny fists clenched as though protesting the world that had summoned him into existence. Strong lungs. Strong heartbeat.
Healthy.
Alive.
The midwife smiled through tears as she gently wrapped the newborn in soft white wolf fur before placing him into the waiting arms of another healer.
"The heir..." a servant breathed in awe.
"The kingdom has its future."
Smiles spread throughout the chamber. Several servants wiped tears from their cheeks, while others quietly thanked the Moon Goddess for delivering the child safely.
At last...
It was over.
Or so everyone believed.
Before anyone could utter another word—
Serena screamed.
The sound was unlike anything that had come before.
It was sharper.
More desperate.
More terrifying.
Her body arched violently against the mattress as another contraction seized her.
"No..." she gasped between frantic breaths. "No... not yet..."
Confused murmurs rippled through the room.
The head midwife immediately returned to Serena's side, placing careful hands against the queen's stomach.
Her expression changed instantly.
Confusion.
Disbelief.
Then utter horror.
Her hands trembled.
"There are..." she whispered.
No one moved.
No one breathed.
Slowly, she lifted frightened eyes toward King Alaric.
"There are two heartbeats."
Silence crashed over the chamber.
Even the newborn prince seemed to stop crying for the briefest moment.
Twin heirs.
Impossible.
Throughout Serena's pregnancy, every examination, every healer, every elder gifted in sensing life had spoken of only one child.
No one—not even the Moon Priestess—had foreseen this.
The realization swept through the room like lightning striking dry timber.
Then another violent contraction tore through Serena.
Her cry echoed through the castle halls.
The celebration that had begun only moments before dissolved into frantic urgency.
Fresh towels.
More herbs.
More boiling water.
The healers sprang back into motion.
Minutes stretched into an eternity.
Each breath Serena drew became weaker than the last.
Her strength was fading.
Alaric dropped to his knees beside her.
His hand found hers.
She squeezed it with surprising strength.
"If..." she whispered through trembling lips.
"No," he interrupted immediately.
His voice cracked.
"Do not speak like that."
She managed the faintest smile.
"If anything happens..."
"It won't."
"Promise me."
He could not.
His silence told her everything.
A single tear escaped Serena's eye as she looked toward the tiny bundle lying safely nearby.
"Our son..."
"Our sons," Alaric corrected softly, though his voice trembled with fear.
She closed her eyes.
Then another wave of agony seized her.
The room erupted once more.
"Push!"
"You can do it!"
"One more!"
Another scream.
Another desperate effort.
Then—
A second cry pierced the chamber.
High.
Strong.
Beautiful.
The second prince had arrived.
Another boy.
Smaller than his brother, yet no less spirited. A faint birthmark rested against his temple, shaped like a delicate crescent kissed by moonlight.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
The impossible had happened.
Twin princes.
Born beneath the same full moon.
The oldest legends spoke of twins born under a full moon as children blessed by the Moon Goddess herself—one destined to lead with strength, the other with wisdom. Whether the tales were true or merely stories passed from one generation to the next, no one could say.
But every soul in that room knew they had witnessed something extraordinary.
Tears of relief flowed freely.
Laughter returned.
The line of House Hale had never appeared stronger.
The head midwife hurried toward the great balcony overlooking the castle grounds. Throwing open the heavy doors, she lifted Whitecliff's ceremonial horn toward the heavens.
She inhaled deeply.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
The sound rolled across the mountains like thunder.
It echoed through forests, over rivers, and into every village within the kingdom.
A long pause followed.
Every citizen knew the ancient tradition.
One set of three blasts announced the birth of an heir.
A second...
Only one thing could mean a second.
The horn sounded again.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
For one breathless heartbeat, Whitecliff stood still.
Then the kingdom erupted.
Howls rose from every corner of the mountains.
Wolves lifted their muzzles toward the brilliant moon, their voices joining in a chorus that echoed for miles.
Castle guards abandoned their rigid discipline, laughing as they embraced one another.
Villagers rushed into the streets carrying lanterns and torches.
Bonfires blazed atop the cliffs.
Wine casks were opened.
Children danced through village squares.
Musicians filled the air with joyous melodies while elders declared the night a blessing unlike any Whitecliff had known in generations.
Twin princes.
An omen.
A miracle.
A promise that House Hale would stand unshaken for decades to come.
For one glorious night, every soul in Whitecliff believed the Moon Goddess had smiled upon them.
They believed they had been given everything.
None of them realized fate had demanded a terrible price.....
- Writer
