Lux's Light

Chapter 26

 Lux’s Light

The camp was quieter than I’d ever heard it.

Not peaceful never that but the kind of quiet that comes when exhaustion drapes itself over every living thing. The fight was over, but its echoes clung to us: the metallic tang of blood, the acrid stench of gunpowder, and the low, ragged breathing of those too injured to move.

I sat on the edge of my tent, staring at my hands. The mark on my palm had faded back to its pale silver etching, but I could still feel its heat lingering under my skin. It was the same heat I’d felt during the fight an impossible, guiding warmth that had pulled me away from death more than once.

It was the same warmth I felt when I thought of her.

Lux.

The Wounded

Garrick came up behind me, his voice a rough scrape. “We’ve moved the injured to the north alcove. Miri’s tending to them. Two more might not make it through the night.”

I stood, the weight in his words sinking into my bones. “Take me there.”

We walked across the camp, the ground soft and dark where blood had seeped into it. Wolves moved like shadows between tents, their eyes flicking toward me and then away. Some bowed their heads. Others just stared.

The alcove was sheltered between two massive boulders, a natural cradle against the wind. Inside, the air smelled of herbs and copper. Miri knelt beside a young rogue barely eighteen who had taken a silver round to the side. She was humming something low and soft, her hands slick with a salve that hissed faintly when it touched the wound.

I crouched next to her. “How bad?”

Her gaze flicked to me, steady but tired. “Bad. If the fever climbs any higher, we’ll lose him.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Use whatever we have left. I don’t care if it’s the last of the silverroot.”

Miri nodded once, already moving to fetch it. I stayed a moment longer, my hand resting lightly on the boy’s forehead. His skin burned against my palm.

And then faint but unmistakable I felt it. A pulse.

Not from him. From me.

From her.

The First Sign

I pulled my hand back slowly, staring at my palm. The mark was glowing faintly again, a thin thread of silver light weaving through its lines.

No one else seemed to notice.

I slipped out of the alcove and made my way back to my tent. Once inside, I closed the flap and sank to the ground, pressing a hand to my stomach.

“Lux,” I whispered.

The air around me seemed to hum. My wolf stilled, her ears pricking inside me. And then I felt it again that pulse, like a heartbeat, but not mine. It radiated outward, soft and warm, until the entire tent felt touched by it.

Images flashed in my mind not visions exactly, more like impressions.

Light through a canopy of leaves. The scent of wildflowers. The sound of a river rushing over stone.

And then, a shadow long and jagged stretching toward me.

The warmth dimmed, but didn’t vanish.

She knows, my wolf murmured. She sees.

Confiding in Caleb

I found Caleb by the central fire, sharpening his blade. He looked up when I approached, his brow furrowing at whatever he saw in my face.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” he said.

“Not a ghost.” I sank onto the log beside him. “Something else.”

I told him about the mark, about the pulse, about the images. His jaw tightened as I spoke, but he didn’t interrupt.

When I finished, he exhaled slowly. “You think it’s her. Lux.”

“I don’t think, Caleb. I know.”

He set the blade aside, leaning forward. “Adelina… you’ve seen what Sylvia’s capable of. If Lux has power, it makes her even more of a target.”

“I’m already a target,” I said. “So is everyone in this camp. But this” I pressed my palm flat against my stomach. “This means something. She’s not just surviving in there. She’s… helping.”

Caleb’s eyes softened for just a heartbeat. “Then we need to figure out how.”

The Gathering

That night, I called the rogues together. The fire crackled in the center of the circle, casting long shadows on the stone walls of the gorge. Faces were tired, eyes hollow, but every gaze turned toward me.

“We survived today because we fought together,” I began. “But survival isn’t enough. We’re being hunted, and it’s only going to get worse.”

Murmurs rose in the circle, low and uneasy.

I held up my hand, the mark catching the firelight. “Some of you know what this is. Some of you don’t. But it’s not just mine anymore. My daughter Lux made herself known today. And whether you believe it or not, I believe she’s part of why we’re still breathing.”

Garrick’s brow furrowed. “You’re saying the unborn child guided the fight?”

“I’m saying we’re not alone,” I replied. “And if that’s true, then we need to listen. Because this ” I gestured to the wounded alcove. “ isn’t the last time Sylvia will test us.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not hostile. I could feel them weighing my words, deciding if they could believe in something that sounded like prophecy.

Then Miri stood. “If the Moon Matron’s bloodline is truly alive in her,” she said, “then perhaps it’s time we stop hiding like prey.”

The murmurs turned to low growls of agreement.

The Light

Later, after the circle dispersed, I stayed by the dying fire. The night was cold, the stars hard and bright overhead. I wrapped my arms around myself, listening to the faint rustle of wolves moving through camp.

And then, without warning, the mark on my palm flared again.

This time the light spilled outward not just a faint glow, but a soft, steady radiance that bathed the ground around me in silver-white. The air smelled of rain on dry earth, sharp and clean.

Across the camp, Garrick froze mid-step, his eyes locked on the glow. Miri emerged from her tent, her mouth parting in silent awe.

The light lasted only a few breaths. Then it faded, leaving only the crackle of the fire and the pounding of my heart.

But something had changed in their eyes.

Belief.

And maybe… hope.

The Weight of It

Back in my tent, I lay down and stared at the canvas ceiling. My wolf was quiet, watchful. Lux’s presence lingered, not a constant hum but a steady assurance, like the warmth of a hand in mine.

It scared me what it meant, what it could cost but it also steadied me in a way nothing else had.

I didn’t know how long we could hold the gorge. I didn’t know if we’d survive the winter. But I knew this:

Sylvia Reyes had no idea what was coming.

And when the time came, it wouldn’t just be me she’d have to face.

It would be both of us.