Chapter 130

**ARIA**

I don’t think I’ve ever climbed the stairs so quickly in my life. My legs ached, and the swell of fatigue that had been weighing me down for weeks tried to drag me back, but my heart was too light for tiredness to win today. Leila had done it. She had brought new life into the world.

A daughter.

By the time I pushed open the door to the private room in the infirmary, Adam’s hand steady at my back and Austin just behind us, my breath caught. The air inside was warm, quiet, filled with the faint scent of lavender from the herbs Rosalie had placed in a bowl by the window. The winter sun slanted through the glass, casting golden streaks across the bed where Leila lay propped against pillows.

And there she was.

Skylar.

Tiny, perfect, her head nestled against Leila’s chest. A small tuft of black hair crowned her head, defying gravity like it already knew she was destined to make her mark. Her eyes—open, impossibly wide for such a little one—were the clearest blue I had ever seen. My breath hitched because they were Leila’s eyes. Unmistakably.

Leila looked exhausted, her hair damp against her forehead, but her smile was radiant. Cassius sat at her side, every muscle in his large frame softened by awe as he cradled his daughter with careful hands, as if she were made of spun glass. His pride filled the room.

“She’s beautiful,” Rosalie whispered first, her blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight as she stepped closer. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“She is,” I breathed, though the words felt far too small for the swell of emotion rising in my chest.

Sasha stood near the foot of the bed, rocking slightly on his heels. For once, the constant smirk was gone, replaced by something gentler, a quiet reverence. “She already has more hair than I did until I was five,” he muttered, but his voice was thick, betraying the emotion he tried to hide.

Leila chuckled softly, then winced, placing a hand on Cassius’s arm. He kissed her temple.

“Why Skylar?” Austin asked gently, his voice low so as not to disturb the baby.

Cassius’s lips curved. “Leila chose it.”

Leila tilted her head, eyes flickering toward me. “When I was carrying her, I kept dreaming of open skies. Blue stretching on forever. It felt like freedom… like a future. After everything, I wanted her to have a name that meant hope, that meant she’d always look up and know she wasn’t bound by the darkness we’ve all faced.”

My throat tightened. Skylar. A name born of dreams and hope. A promise whispered into the future.

I moved closer, hesitant at first. My fingers tingled with the urge to touch, but I didn’t dare reach out. Not yet. “May I?”

Cassius nodded, his movements slow and tender as he shifted the tiny bundle into my arms. The moment Skylar’s weight settled against me, something inside me cracked wide open. She was warm, impossibly light, yet I felt the gravity of the moment press against my ribs. Her little fist opened and closed, brushing against the fabric of my sleeve, and when her eyes met mine, the air fled my lungs.

“Hello, Skylar,” I whispered, tears blurring my vision. “Welcome to the world, little one.”

Behind me, I felt Adam’s steady hand on my shoulder, grounding me. Austin stepped closer too, the three of us forming an unspoken shield around this new life, as if by sheer will we could keep her safe from everything outside these walls.

Rosalie sniffled, wiping her eyes shamelessly. “She’s going to change everything, just like you, Aria. Look at her. She’s already shining.”

I smiled through my tears, leaning down to brush my cheek against Skylar’s soft hair. A faint baby scent rose—sweet, new, full of promise. “She’s perfect.”

Leila’s eyes closed briefly, exhaustion pulling at her, but her hand remained linked with Cassius’s, their bond so clear it filled the room with warmth. Cassius kept his gaze locked on their daughter, as if the world beyond her didn’t exist.

“I never thought I’d see him like this,” Adam murmured near my ear, his voice thick with quiet wonder. “Your brother, the force of nature, holding a baby like he’s afraid to breathe too loud.”

I laughed softly, even as my chest ached with tenderness. Cassius had always been the protector, the warrior. Now he was a father. And in that moment, the prophecy, the battles, the looming shadow of Alaric—everything else faded.

Austin brushed his knuckles lightly over Skylar’s tiny hand, and she curled her fingers around him, strong for someone so small. His lips parted in wonder. “She’s got a grip,” he said, a laugh breaking out, but I caught the sheen in his eyes.

Rosalie leaned closer, her voice playful now, though it trembled slightly. “So, do we get to fight over who spoils her the most? Because I call dibs on her first spell lessons.”

Sasha snorted. “Please. She’s going to need someone to teach her to bend the rules. That’s me.”

“Not a chance,” Adam said dryly, though his smile gave him away.

Their banter filled the room with lightness, weaving joy through the exhaustion, through the shadows that had been hanging over us. I held Skylar tighter, rocking gently, as if I could shield her from every dark whisper of the world outside.

“She’s going to be loved,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if I was saying it to Leila, Cassius, or myself. Maybe all three.

Leila’s tired smile deepened. “That’s all I want for her.”

The room quieted again, the weight of the moment settling on us like a soft blanket. I could feel Adam’s hand lingering on my shoulder, Austin’s quiet strength at my side, Rosalie’s warmth, Sasha’s restless tenderness, Cassius’s fierce devotion, and Leila’s gentle pride.

Skylar yawned, a tiny, squeaky sound that made all of us laugh quietly. Her eyelids fluttered, and she drifted into sleep, safe in my arms.

As I handed her carefully back to Leila, a vow burned in my chest. Whatever came next—Alaric, betrayal, the prophecy—none of it would take away this. None of it would touch her.

Skylar’s name was written in the sky, a promise of freedom, of hope, of futures unbound.

And as I looked around at my family, I believed—just for this moment—that the prophecy wasn’t only about war or sacrifice. It was about this. About making sure little girls with blue eyes and tufts of black hair could grow up under open skies.