Semua Bab HIS BABY GROWS INSIDE ME, BUT HIS HEART BELONGS TO HER : Bab 11 - Bab 20

Years passed like river currents soft in some seasons, torrential in others. The storm that once tore through our lives had given way to calm skies and green fields. But within the quiet, a new storm was brewing not of chaos, but of change.Rowan was ten now. Tall for his age, fierce in spirit, with Kael’s eyes and my untamed fire. He never walked when he could run. Never whispered when he could shout. He was all instinct, all heart, and still, when night came, he curled beside me like the same tiny pup he had once been just a boy who wanted his mother near.Elara, just a year younger, moved through the world like a secret silent, watchful, untouchable. Where Rowan blazed, she shadowed. Her mind was sharper than most adults’, her magic strange and quiet. The older wolves whispered that she carried the Bone Tree’s gift in her blood. I didn’t doubt it. When she spoke, even the wind seemed to pause.Despite the blood that tied them to different mothers, Rowan and Elara were inseparable.

We left before dawn, cloaked in silence and shadow. The pack still slept, unaware that its future now depended on two mothers and a shard of obsidian pulsing with forbidden magic.The Highlands stretched ahead of us like a wound in the earth jagged, ancient, and shrouded in mist. Few dared venture beyond the Vale. The Highland Clans were not bound by pack laws. They answered only to their own gods, their own magic, and the memory of blood once spilled between us.But they remembered everything.And that was exactly why we had to go.Lyra rode ahead of me, her cloak snapping in the wind. She didn’t speak much, but her energy crackled with barely restrained tension. She hadn’t wanted to leave Elara any more than I wanted to leave Rowan. But this wasn’t just about our children anymore. It was about something deeper. Something older.Something that had waited in silence for too long and was now waking up.By nightfall, we reached the Wyrm Stones, ancient monoliths twisted by time and cove

The Highland wind was colder than it had any right to be in spring. It howled through the trees like a warning, tugging at cloaks and pelts, whispering secrets that chilled the spine. We stood at the edge of the clearing known only in legend as the Circle of Stone.Twelve towering stones, older than any pack, rose like sentinels from the earth. Each one carved with runes lost to time, their edges worn but still potent with magic. Moss crept along their bases like veins of memory. This was the place of prophecy, where destinies were sealed, and sacrifices demanded.Rowan and Elara stood between Kael and me, their small hands clutching ours tightly. Rowan’s golden eyes flicked from stone to stone, his curiosity untainted by fear. Elara, quieter than usual, leaned into Lyra’s side, her gaze fixed on the center of the circle where the earth was scorched black, as if from ancient fire.Elder Thorne stepped forward, his staff thudding softly against the soil. He was draped in ceremonial rob

The wind carried the scent of scorched earth and singed fur as dawn broke over the Highlands. Smoke still curled from the broken stones of the Circle of Stone, where the blood of the prophecy had been spilled. The Red Moon was gone, retreating like a nightmare that only left behind memories and consequences.Aria stood at the edge of the circle, her cloak trailing in the ash, her son in her arms.Rowan slept, but his body pulsed faintly with a silvery aura, the mark of what he and Elara had done. Across from her, Kael held their daughter close. Elara’s small chest rose and fell steadily, but her eyes fluttered beneath closed lids, as if she still roamed some hidden place between worlds.“We stopped them,” Callen said quietly behind her, surveying the smoldering battlefield. “But this wasn’t the end. Was it?”“No,” Aria said, not turning. “It was only the beginning.”The Shadowborn were dead their High Wraith dissolved by the unleashed bond between the children but something still ling

No one slept the night after the Bone Tree screamed.Not even the stars returned.Instead, a thick fog clung to the Highlands, curling low through the trees, whispering across the tents like a living thing. Every branch creaked as though carrying a weight not its own. The very air tasted like burnt metal.Aria paced the camp’s edge, eyes scanning the dark. She hadn’t left Rowan and Elara’s side until Lyra forced her to rest. But rest was a myth now. The sound of Thrones' voice still echoed inside her bones an echo that didn’t fade, but grew deeper.A war was coming.She just didn’t know when it would strike… until the first body was found.They discovered him at dawn. One of the Highland scouts, ripped open not by claws but by fire.Kael knelt beside the charred corpse. His brows furrowed as he examined the markings scorched into the man’s chest. A perfect circle, crossed by three jagged lines.“Not a rogue’s kill,” Callen said grimly. “This was… ritual.”Aria stepped closer. “What do