The days after that night passed in a strange blur—moments of fierce clarity tangled with creeping shadows. Aelira could feel the dark pulse inside her growing stronger, like a living thing stirring beneath her ribs. It wasn’t just hunger anymore; it was something alive, something insistent.
She woke one morning with a hollow ache deep in her belly, a tightness that wasn’t there before. At first, she thought it was the exhaustion catching up to her, or maybe the remnants of the fire that had consumed her and Astren. But then, the nausea came—sharp and sudden, twisting her stomach like a knife.
Astren noticed right away. His silver eyes darkened with concern as he watched her pull away from the fire, pressing a shaky hand to her belly.
“You’re not… sick, are you?” His voice was low, tent
