I screamed as invisible claws ripped through my womb—not flesh, not blood, but something deeper. Something spiritual. My wolf shrieked in agony as a silver thread was torn free from my core, unraveling like mist in a storm.
“No—no, please!” I sobbed, collapsing to my knees. “That’s my child—stop—Lyra, stop!”
She crouched in front of me, her fingers hovering inches from my abdomen as silver light streamed into her palm, twisting into the shape of a fragile, glowing shard.
An unborn soul.
“You don’t get to claim heirs anymore,” she said softly. “That right belongs to me now.”
The shard dissolved into smoke and vanished into her chest.
I screamed until my throat bled.
By the time Kael finally arrived, I was curled on the cold stone floor, my body shaking uncontrollably as blood-magic residue crawled across my skin like frostbite.
He didn’t rush to me.
He stopped three paces away.
“What did you do?” he demanded, his voice low and sharp.
I lifted my head, tears blinding me. “Kael… our baby—something’s wrong. I can’t feel the Moon anymore. I need you—please—”
Lyra stood smoothly and stepped into his arms.
“She rejected the blessing,” Lyra said calmly. “I walked in just in time to see her tear apart the ritual circle.”
My heart shattered.
“That’s a lie,” I whispered. “She stole our heir. I felt it. She used blood-keys—”
Kael’s eyes hardened.
“You expect me to believe that?” he snapped. “Do you have any idea how dangerous those relics are? Only the Council Elders can—”
“—access them,” Lyra interrupted gently. “Which is why I came running the moment I sensed the distortion. I thought you deserved to know the truth before the pack does.”
His jaw tightened.
“Elira,” he said coldly, “you lost control. And now you’re inventing accusations to hide your failure.”
Failure.
The word lodged in my chest like a poisoned blade.
“I didn’t fail,” I whispered. “Our baby was taken.”
“You rejected the Moon,” he said, each word deliberate. “There is no heir without blessing. That is law.”
I laughed weakly, hysterically. “You think I chose this? You think I would throw away my own child?”
He didn’t answer.
That silence was my sentence.
The healers were summoned—not to restore me, but to cleanse the chamber of “corruption.” They spoke in hushed tones as they brushed salt and ash across the floor where I had bled spirit instead of blood.
I was not taken to the infirmary.