Kiera's P.O.V.
The moment my child entered the world, I felt it—the shift, the raw energy crackling through the air like a brewing storm. My body sagged with exhaustion, but my heart thundered, my pulse racing with something primal, something beyond comprehension.
The healers stilled. Their glowing hands hovered over my child, eyes wide in reverence. One of them, the eldest, let out a shaky breath. “Blessed by the Moon Goddess,” she murmured, barely above a whisper.
I turned my head, my vision blurred with sweat and exhaustion, but I saw him—my son. Small, but impossibly strong, his tiny body cradled in the healer’s arms. His cry had stopped, but the energy hadn’t. The torches lining the walls still burned unnaturally bright, the very ground beneath us humming with power.
Damian moved
