Chapter 137
**ARIA**
The night after Alaric’s visit felt different. The air in the apartment still carried the faint trace of frost, as if he’d left a mark on the walls themselves. Adam and Austin tried to hide it, but I could feel their worry pressing at me through our bond—sharp, relentless, impossible to ignore.
I should have been afraid. Maybe I was, in a way. But underneath the fear was something else: a quiet certainty. The moon’s song hadn’t left me. It lingered, pulsing in my veins, reminding me that I was more than what Alaric wanted me to believe.
The babies stirred, not restless but insistent. Strong. Ready.
I wrapped my robe tighter around me and sat on the edge of the bed, hand circling over my belly. Soon, I thought, though I wasn’t sure if I was talking to them or myself.
The next morning, the community was buzzing. Patrols doubled, borders reinforced, Rosalie weaving protective wards so thick the air shimmered in places. Fares and Sasha sparred in the courtyard, their movements sharp and purposeful, while Cassius refused to leave Leila’s side after the baby.
I moved through it all like a ghost. Everyone’s eyes followed me—some with trust, some with fear, some with awe. I didn’t want any of it. I just wanted to walk in the sun without feeling like a prophecy made flesh.
Rosalie joined me on the terrace, her blond hair catching the winter light. She handed me a cup of mint tea, studying me with that gaze that always seemed to see too much.
“You’re glowing,” she said softly.
I laughed. “That’s one word for it. I feel like a furnace.”
“Not just from the pregnancy.” Her voice was quiet.
“The power. It’s settling in you now.”
I swallowed, my throat tight. “And yet, Alaric walked right into my home."
“You sent him away.” Rosalie’s eyes sharpened.
“Don’t forget that.”
I didn’t. The memory of the net of light, the song in my bones, the way he’d stopped—that was mine. Still, his words gnawed at me. If I do not take you, they will.
The babies shifted again, two heartbeats pressing against my own. My chest ached with love and terror in equal measure.
By evening, the unease had grown heavier. Austin paced the apartment, restless, his jaw tight. Adam tried to bury himself in strategy, sketching patrol rotations on a notepad, though I noticed the ink smudges where his hand shook.
“Stop,” I said finally.
They both looked at me.
“You’re wearing yourselves out before the fight even starts,” I continued. “We need strength. We need… faith.”
Austin muttered something under his breath, but when I reached for his hand, he sat beside me. Adam joined on the other side, his blue eyes softening as if he’d been waiting for me to remind him to breathe.
“You felt it, didn’t you?” I asked quietly. “When he was here. The moon answered me. It’s not just me anymore—it’s us. Them.” I rested my hands on my belly.
Adam exhaled slowly. “I felt it. Like the air itself was listening.”
Austin’s shoulders tensed. “And what happens when Alaric realizes you’re stronger than he thought? He won’t stop. He’ll come harder.”
“Then we meet him harder,” I said simply.
For once, they didn’t argue.
That night, sleep came in fragments. Dreams blurred with reality: snow turning to ash, wolves howling under a blood-red sky, voices whispering soon. Each time I woke, the babies moved, steady and strong, as if reminding me they were still there.
Near dawn, a sharp pain lanced through me. Not unbearable—just enough to steal my breath. Adam stirred immediately, his hand on my shoulder.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.” I forced a smile. “Maybe they’re just stretching.”
But deep down, I knew. It was too soon—weeks earlier than planned—but my body didn’t care about plans. The prophecy didn’t either.
The following day, I tried to keep busy. I walked the courtyard, ignoring the watchful eyes. I hummed under my breath, the same low note I’d used against Alaric, testing its edges. The wards nearest me shivered like strings plucked on a harp. No one else seemed to notice, but I did.
The twins kicked hard, almost in rhythm, and I froze. It wasn’t random. It was… a pattern. I pressed my hand to my stomach, whispering, “What are you trying to tell me?”
No answer, of course. Just another surge of movement, insistent, alive.
By the time I returned upstairs, Adam and Austin were waiting, their expressions tight.
“Another message came,” Adam said grimly. “Intercepted at the border. Alaric’s people are closer than we thought.”
Austin added, “He wants you alive. That makes you the prize.”
“I’m not a prize,” I said. “I’m the fight.”
They didn’t like hearing it, but it was true. Every instinct told me Alaric wasn’t going to wait much longer. Neither were the babies.
That evening, Rosalie stopped by again. She pressed her palm lightly against my stomach, her eyes fluttering shut.
“They’re strong,” she murmured. “But Aria… your body’s already shifting. It won’t be long now.”
A strange calm washed over me. Fear, yes—but also readiness. The world was teetering, Alaric circling, betrayal fresh in our veins. And yet here, in this fragile body of mine, something unstoppable was stirring.
I looked at Rosalie, at Adam, at Austin. At the people who had already bled for this vision of peace.
“They’re coming soon,” I said, resting both hands over the swell of my belly. “And when they do, no one—Alaric or anyone else—will stop them.”
The words weren’t bravado. They were truth.
Because for the first time, I didn’t just believe in the prophecy.
I felt it.
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