The air in NorthHill is thick with tension. A kind of stillness that holds everyone’s breath in place. No one says it aloud, but they all know—something is happening in the East Wing.It’s been building for hours.Lumina feels pain bolts through her waist again, "Arghhh" she screams. Bianca and the healers standing above her.Theon paces outside the room, back and forth, jaw clenched tight. His shirt is soaked from the storm that hit earlier, but he hasn’t noticed. Every time someone opens the door, his head snaps toward it like a loaded weapon.Bianca steps out at last, shutting the door gently behind her.“She’s in active labor,” she says. “The first pup is crowning.”Theon doesn’t move for a beat.Then he says, “And she?”“She’s strong,” Bianca says. “Focused. No signs of complications yet.”Yet.The word lands like a hammer in his chest.He nods, stepping back as Bianca goes in again. The door closes.He breathes once. Then again.Inside, the room is quiet except for the sounds of
Months have gone by, and Lumina’s pregnancy has shifted from wonder to routine. Her scent fills every corridor of the NorthHill packhouse, soft and thick, a blend of ancient magic and motherhood. But while the attention remains mostly on the Luna, and her unborn twins, something else has been quietly unfolding beneath the surface.In the late hours of the afternoon, Theon is seated in his study, a file open in front of him but barely read. His mind is already elsewhere when a knock lands on the door. Not rushed. Not hesitant. Just firm enough.“Come in,” Theon says.Bernardo steps inside. His posture is stiff, but not with fear. More like someone bracing for something heavy. Behind him, the door closes gently, shutting out the hallway noise. Theon watches him closely.“Alpha,” Bernardo says, bowing his head.“You don’t need formalities,” Theon replies. “Speak.”Bernardo clears his throat, then glances back toward the door as if to make sure no one is listening. “There’s something I’ve
The black car rolls to a stop just past PhantomMoon’s border, quiet under the orange spread of dusk. Lumina steps out first, brushing her palm against the fabric of her dress. It’s simple—soft blue, high collar, loose around the stomach. She’s pregnant, and it shows, though just slightly. Her presence, though, speaks louder than her bump.Two NorthHill guards flank her, one tall and silent, the other a few years younger but alert. They say nothing as she steps forward alone, her hands at her sides, her posture calm.“I won’t be long,” she tells them without looking back. “Stay with the car. Don’t enter the compound.”They hesitate. The older one nods eventually. “Yes, Luna.”She walks ahead, steps slow, her pulse steady. PhantomMoon Pack is smaller, more compact, surrounded by clustered trees and clean brick. It’s not home, but it once felt like peace.The moment she passes the gates, heads turn. Wolves lounging near the patrol shed rise to their feet. No one stops her. They’ve heard
She leans closer, eyes dropping slightly.“You know.”He stares at her.She grins. “Sex. It’s ridiculous. I woke up needing it. I nap and dream about it. I walk past you and practically combust.”“Okay. That’s graphic.”“It’s true.”He raises a brow. “You’re sure it’s safe?”“Yes,” she says. “They get calmer after. I swear.”“That’s… deeply weird.”She nudges him. “Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. I basically try to climb you every time you sit too long.”“I thought you were cuddly.”“I was starving.”He smiles at her. She rests her head on his shoulder.“You’re glowing,” he says after a moment.“I’m bloated.”“You’re beautiful.”She closes her eyes, letting herself lean into him. Their breathing syncs.Then she pulls back.Her hand finds his. “Do you think they’ll be like you?”“I hope they have your strength,” he says. “Your calm.”She lifts a brow. “Calm?”He nods. “There’s something… different about how you carry them. You’re not afraid. Not even a little.”“I was afraid. That f
A few weeks later***The night air is thick with anticipation.The courtyard of the NorthHill packhouse is lit with dozens of floating lanterns, glowing softly against the deep velvet sky. The full moon hangs low above the gathering like a silent witness, silver and round, casting its light over everyone below.Warriors line the outer perimeter. Elders sit to the right. Nana stands near the altar, hands clasped, her head bowed. There’s a subtle hum of magic in the air—gentle, protective, ancient. It pulses faintly beneath the ground.Theon stands at the top of the stone steps, dressed in ceremonial black, trimmed with silver. A cape falls from his shoulders, clasped at the neck with the insignia of NorthHill. His expression is unreadable. Steady. But his eyes keep scanning the crowd, searching for her.And then she appears.Lumina walks into the courtyard slowly, dressed in ivory silk, the fabric flowing like water around her legs. Her silver hair is woven up, braided and crowned w
Months passed peacefully in NorthHill. The pack bloomed. Smiles returned to the faces of its members again. Children returned to playing in the courtyards. Warriors trained without the fear of undead claws looming over them. And though many still mourned — those who’d lost siblings, parents, mates — they did so with a strange kind of peace. A peace that came with knowing they’d fought darkness and lived to see morning.Theon is still in the war room when the gate alarm rings once… then again.Low. Short bursts.A warning signal.He doesn’t lift his head immediately. Just stares at the map, his mind already calculating.One of the guards bursts in, chest heaving like he ran the whole stretch of the eastern wing.“Alpha,” the guard pants, eyes flicking between Theon and Bernardo. “There’s a visitor… from PhantomMoon.”Bernardo’s brows lift. “PhantomMoon? Now?”Theon finally looks up. “Who?”The guard shifts uneasily. “Alpha Orion.”The name drops like a slab of stone in still water. The