Chapter 17: The Choice of the Unborn

The clearing reeked of gunpowder, sweat, and something unearthly. The unconscious bodies of the Dominion soldiers lay scattered like fallen chess pieces, their weapons untouched and their eyes closed as if in a trance.

Ivy stood in the center, panting, her hands trembling. The shock of what had just happened reverberated in her bones. Her unborn child had spoken—not in words, but in sheer power. In will.

And now, that will was no longer aligned with her own.

“Ivy…” Mira’s voice was shaky. “That wasn’t you… was it?”

Ivy swallowed hard. “No. That was them.”

She looked down at her stomach, her heart beating louder than the footsteps of retreating soldiers. Her baby had defended her, yes—but there was something off. Something she couldn’t name.

Something cold.

Lilith limped toward her, clutching her side where a shard of bark had cut deep. “The child has chosen,” she whispered, her face pale. “But the question is—what have they chosen?”

“What does that mean?” Ivy asked. “They’re just a baby—my baby!”

“No,” Lilith said, her voice sharper now. “Not anymore. That surge? That was a conscious act. You don’t understand the scale of what’s happening.”

“I don’t understand!” Ivy shouted, stepping away. “No one’s told me anything since this all started! Isla shows up out of nowhere, claiming to be my sister, my child is speaking in waves of energy, and now you’re telling me they’re making decisions?”

Aiden placed a firm hand on her shoulder, trying to ground her. “We need answers. Now.”

Lilith hesitated. Then—she spoke.

“The prophecy of the twin bloodlines wasn’t about you and Isla,” she said. “It was never about sisters. It was about generations. One would carry the flame. The other… would carry the void.”

Mira blinked. “Void?”

Lilith nodded. “A being born not of light or fire, but of balance—neither good nor evil. A force of reckoning. That’s the child Ivy carries.”

Ivy’s heart stopped.

“You’re saying my baby… isn’t human?”

“I’m saying they’re more than human,” Lilith replied. “And that kind of power doesn’t stay dormant for long.”

A low hum filled the air again.

The baby.

It was subtle, but Ivy could feel it—something shifting, like a veil lifting between realities.

Then—she heard it again.

“They will come. You must choose.”

This time, the voice wasn’t as soft.

It echoed through the minds of everyone present.

Aiden stepped forward. “Choose what?”

But no answer came.

Only a sudden, deep silence.

And then—an explosion.

The western trees went up in a plume of black smoke as new figures stormed the clearing—these ones not military, but robed in deep crimson, their faces hidden behind bone-like masks.

“Followers of the Flame,” Mira breathed.

Isla’s army.

At their center stood Isla herself, no longer hiding, her scarred face twisted with triumph.

“I warned you, Ivy,” she called, raising her hand. “Refuse the pact, and war would follow.”

Ivy raised her hands instinctively, shielding herself as magic collided mid-air with Aiden’s defense barrier.

Flames burst around them.

Chaos exploded.

But Ivy wasn’t focused on Isla.

She was focused on her child.

Because something—someone—was whispering in her mind again.

“Let me out.”

Panic surged through her.

Let them out?

No.

No, that couldn’t happen. Not now. Not when she didn’t even know what they truly were.

She stumbled backward as the energy inside her surged again, wild and untamed.

Lilith grabbed her. “You can’t release them. Not here. Not now. It will tear everything apart.”

“But they’re—”

“Not ready,” Lilith snapped. “Neither are you.”

Suddenly, Aiden shouted, “They’re breaking the barrier!”

Flames licked at the dome around them, cracking the protective spell he’d cast.

Mira swore under her breath. “We can’t hold them!”

“Then we run,” Ivy said, tightening her grip on the dagger still hanging at her waist. “We run and find somewhere safe.”

But there was nowhere safe anymore.

Not with two factions hunting her.

Not with her baby evolving into something ancient and terrifying.

They fled into the woods, ducking low branches, dodging magic strikes that turned trees to ash. Behind them, Isla’s army gave chase—but so did something else.

The Dominion.

They weren’t down.

And now they were angry.

As Ivy darted between trees, she felt another surge—this time painful.

She fell to her knees.

“Ivy!” Aiden turned, lifting her. “What’s happening?”

She gasped. “It’s the baby—they’re trying to—”

A blinding light burst from her body, knocking Aiden back.

She rose—eyes glowing gold, her feet no longer touching the ground.

The forest stilled.

A voice filled the space—clear, chilling.

“The mother is weak. We must rise.”

A pulse exploded from Ivy’s stomach, and suddenly… she wasn’t alone.

Floating before them was a silhouette—an unborn figure, glowing and translucent, like a ghost made of starlight.

Everyone froze—Isla, the soldiers, even Lilith.

The figure looked at Ivy with eyes that matched hers… and yet older. Wiser.

Colder.

“You gave me life,” it said. “But I am not yours alone.”

“What… what are you?” Ivy whispered.

“I am the balance,” the child replied. “Born from blood. Chosen by flame. Fed by void.”

“Come back,” she begged. “You can’t be out here—not like this. Not before your time.”

But the child shook its head.

“They seek to bind me. You seek to protect me. But no one asked what I wanted.”

Mira was shaking. “This isn’t possible. They haven’t even been born.”

“I was never meant to be born,” the figure said. “I was meant to awaken.”

And with that—

The figure vanished.

Ivy collapsed to the ground, clutching her stomach, now flat again.

A strangled cry escaped her lips. “No… no… no!”

Lilith ran to her. “Ivy—what happened?”

“I—I don’t know,” Ivy whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I felt them leave. Like a cord snapping inside me.”

Aiden dropped beside her, touching her belly.

There was still a heartbeat.

But faint.

Barely there.

“They’re still with you,” he said softly. “But they’re no longer just within you.”

Ivy looked around—the flames had stopped. The soldiers frozen. The forest unnaturally still.

As if the world had paused.

Then—

A new voice.

Rough. Familiar.

From the shadows stepped Killian.

Hair disheveled. Blood on his shirt. But eyes burning with something Ivy couldn’t read.

“I came to protect you,” he said quietly. “But I see I’m already too late.”

“Killian…” Ivy stood, her legs trembling. “What are you doing here?”

He looked at her—not with love, not with hate, but with resolution.

“You’re still pregnant,” he said. “But your child no longer belongs to either of us.”

He raised his hand—and revealed a shard of the broken altar stone, still glowing faintly.

“The only way to save them now,” he said, “is to destroy them before they’re reborn.”