The child slept soundly in Elias’s arms, but even in slumber, he seemed to radiate power. His tiny chest rose and fell with steady breaths, yet the pack gathered outside the chamber could feel him—an energy that rolled like a tide through their bond.
“He needs a name,” Elias whispered, stroking the infant’s downy hair. His voice was weak from exhaustion, but his eyes never left the baby.
Kieran sat beside him, one arm curled protectively around Elias, the other gently cradling his mate’s shoulder. “A name worthy of who he is.”
As if in answer, a cool breeze swept through the room, though no window stood open. The moonlight shimmered, bending toward the child. Elias gasped softly as a voice brushed his soul again—the Goddess.
Call him Lucian, she whispered. Child of light, child of nigh
