Chapter 5: Child of The Unknown

The vomiting started again before sunrise.

Kaelith barely reached the wash basin before her knees slammed painfully against the wooden floor. Her stomach twisted violently, sending another wave of nausea crashing through her body until bitter water burned the back of her throat.

Nothing else came up.

Only pain.

She gripped the edge of the basin hard enough for her knuckles to turn white while uneven breaths shook her chest.

Behind her, Lyra groaned sleepily from the bed.

“That better not be death,” she muttered into her pillow. “Because I am far too tired to bury anyone this early.”

Kaelith leaned her forehead against the cold metal basin and groaned weakly.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Another painful spasm bent Kaelith forward instantly.

Lyra sat upright at once.

“Okay,” she said more seriously, pushing tangled red braids away from her face. “That one sounded real.”

Kaelith stayed crouched there for several long moments, breathing unevenly until the nausea finally eased enough for her to stand.

A month had passed since the masquerade.

A month since the stranger with molten-gold eyes touched her hand beneath the chandeliers and awakened something impossible inside her.

And ever since that night, nothing had felt normal.

The silver mark beneath her collarbone appeared randomly now. Sometimes it burned so hot it stole the breath from her lungs. Other times it glowed faintly beneath her skin while she slept, illuminating the darkness around her like moonlight trapped beneath flesh.

Worse still, Moonshadow—the wolf spirit that had finally awakened inside her after years of painful emptiness—had become strangely protective.

Especially during the past two weeks.

Kaelith rinsed her mouth slowly before standing on shaky legs.

Lyra was already watching her carefully now.

“You’ve been sick every morning.”

“I know.”

“You nearly fainted carrying flour yesterday.”

“I know.”

“And your sense of smell has become terrifying.”

Kaelith narrowed her eyes slightly.

“You smell like burnt onions.”

Lyra looked deeply offended.

“I cooked once.”

“You committed a crime against food.”

Normally, that would have earned at least a small laugh.

Not today.

Silence stretched heavily between them.

Then Lyra’s expression slowly changed.

“Kae…” she said carefully. “When was your last blood cycle?”

Kaelith froze.

Her stomach dropped so suddenly it felt like falling off a cliff.

Deep inside her soul, Moonshadow stirred.

You already know the answer.

Kaelith immediately looked away.

“No.”

Lyra pushed the blankets aside and stood from the bed slowly.

“Kaelith.”

“No.”

Her voice cracked this time.

Because suddenly every piece fit together too perfectly.

The nausea.

The exhaustion.

The strange warmth beneath her skin.

The heightened senses.

And the memory of that night hidden behind velvet curtains.

The stranger’s hand against her waist.

His breath near her throat.

The dangerous hunger burning inside those molten-gold eyes.

Kaelith’s pulse became uneven.

“No,” she whispered again, though the denial sounded weaker this time.

An hour later, they stood inside a small apothecary hidden deep within the lower districts of Varethis.

Rain hammered steadily against the narrow windows while Kaelith sat rigidly near the examination chair, clutching her cloak tightly around herself.

The apothecary smelled of herbs, smoke, old parchment, and dried lavender hanging from ceiling hooks.

A gray-haired healer shuffled quietly between shelves lined with jars and strange powders.

Master Theron.

One of the few healers willing to treat poor citizens without demanding noble payment first.

Kaelith sat on the edge of the chair while Lyra remained beside her like an angry guard dog prepared to bite someone at any moment.

Master Theron adjusted his glasses carefully before looking toward Kaelith.

“How long have the symptoms lasted?”

“Two weeks.”

“Nausea?”

“Yes.”

“Dizziness?”

“Yes.”

“Fatigue?”

Kaelith gave him a tired stare.

“I nearly fell asleep standing yesterday.”

The old healer hummed thoughtfully.

Inside her mind, Moonshadow paced restlessly.

Protect the pup.

Kaelith blinked slowly.

What?

The wolf spirit ignored her panic completely.

The pup matters now.

Kaelith’s hands began trembling.

Master Theron noticed immediately.

“You don’t need to be frightened, child.”

Easy for him to say.

The healer gently pricked her fingertip and collected a small vial of blood before moving toward a cluttered table covered with glowing crystals and strange silver powders.

The room became painfully quiet.

Kaelith stared at the wooden floorboards while Lyra squeezed her hand tightly.

Neither of them spoke.

Minutes crawled by endlessly.

Finally, Master Theron returned.

And the expression on his face confirmed everything before he even opened his mouth.

“You’re carrying a child.”

The world stopped.

Kaelith heard Lyra inhale sharply beside her, but the sound barely reached her ears.

A child.

The stranger from the masquerade.

The unknown Alpha with ancient golden eyes.

Something hot pressed painfully behind Kaelith’s ribs.

Fear, confusion mixed with disbelief.

And beneath all of it…

Something terrifyingly soft.

Moonshadow’s voice gentled instantly.

Ours.

Kaelith swallowed hard.

“No…”

“You’re approximately six weeks along,” Master Theron continued carefully. “But that is not the only unusual thing.”

Kaelith looked up weakly.

The old healer studied her blood sample again with growing concern.

“There’s energy moving through your body unlike anything I’ve ever encountered.”

Lyra frowned immediately.

“What does that mean?”

Master Theron hesitated before pointing toward the crystal vial resting on the table.

“Your blood reacts strangely to moonstone.”

Kaelith stared.

Silver veins glowed faintly inside the vial.

Not red.

Silver.

A cold chill crawled slowly down her spine.

Master Theron looked deeply disturbed now.

“I don’t know who fathered this child,” he admitted quietly, “but his bloodline is ancient.”

Moonshadow growled softly inside her mind.

Not ancient.

The wolf’s voice deepened.

Royal.

Kaelith’s stomach dropped instantly.

Lyra looked between them nervously.

“Kae?”

Kaelith realized her breathing had become uneven again.

Master Theron lowered his voice carefully.

“You need to be extremely cautious.”

“Why?” Lyra asked immediately.

“Because if the noble houses discover a child carrying an unknown royal bloodline…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t need to.

In Varethis, powerful bloodlines meant power.

And power attracted monsters.

Master Theron handed Kaelith a small pouch filled with herbs.

“Eat properly. Rest whenever possible. Your body is severely weakened already.”

Kaelith accepted the pouch numbly.

A child.

She was carrying a child.

Part of her wanted to panic.

Part of her wanted to cry.

But another feeling slowly rose stronger than the fear.

Protectiveness.

Violent.

Moonshadow pressed closer inside her soul.

No one touches the pup.

The ride back toward Blackthorne Keep felt endless.

Rain pounded against the carriage roof while Kaelith sat silently beside Lyra, her thoughts spiraling endlessly.

“You don’t have to go back there,” Lyra said quietly after a long silence.

Kaelith kept staring out the rain-covered w

indow.

“Yes, I do.”

“They already threw you away once.”

“And if they hear this news from someone else first,” Kaelith replied softly, “it’ll become worse.”