Lina sat on the edge of the bed, hand pressed to her still-flat stomach. The dreams had become nightly now—black smoke curling around a tiny heartbeat, whispers in a language she didn’t understand.
Zane knelt in front of her, hands covering hers. His eyes—usually so steady—were filled with fear he tried to hide.
“Elara’s sure?” he asked again, voice low.
Lina nodded. “She did the blood ritual twice. The remnant didn’t die with the curse. When we broke it, it… latched onto the bond. And the bond is strongest where new life is forming.”
Zane exhaled sharply. “Our child.”
“Our child,” she repeated softly. “And it’s carrying the last piece of the curse.”
Elara stood by the door, arms crossed, face grim. “Not the full curse. Not like it was on you, Zane. But a shadow. A fragment. The baby
