The storm started three days before the baby came.No rain.No thunder.Just wind that never stopped.It circled the house like something searching for a way inside.Lily sat on the edge of her bed, one hand pressed to her stomach, breathing through another wave of pain.This pain felt different.Not like injury.Not like magic backlash.Something deeper.Something final.Across the room, Luna paced like a caged animal.“You should be at the capital,” Luna muttered. “You should be somewhere with healers. With wards. With soldiers.”“He would find me,” Lily said.They both knew who he was.So Luna stayed.Another contraction hit.Lily gasped, folding forward, fingers gripping the blankets.Her power flared automatically — blue light bleeding into the air around her, dim and unstable.Luna swore under her breath and knelt in front of her.“Stay with me,” Luna said.Not commanding.Begging.“I’m here,” Lily whispered.Time lost meaning after that.Pain.Breathing.Luna’s voice.Cold clot
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