Chapter 85: a Storm Within
Warm lantern light flickered off the stone walls of the sanctum, bathing everything in gold and rose.
Elena laid back on a pile of woven cushions, her dark curls spilling over her shoulders. Her face was flushed with warmth and fatigue, her hands resting on her rounded belly. The triple spiral pendant rested loosely on her collar bone.
"I'd say you're about six months along, mi Doña."
The Behike smiled gently, her glowing hand pressed to Elena's abdomen. Magic swirled through her fingers like gentle threads, assessing both mother and child with quiet reverence.
Elena's spiraling scars faintly glow with the Behike's touch.
She half-smiled, her own hand joining the healer's. She could feel the life within her, solid and firm now. Her pelvic muscles ached from the weight, and she needed to relieve herself constantly, but it didn't matter.
She was alive. The child was alive.
And Niegal… was with her.
Across the room, Niegal sat silently as a healer changed the bandages over his side. He winced once, jaw clenched, but never looked away from Elena.
Their eyes met.
There was a stillness there. A thousand thoughts shared in a single glance.
Joy. Pain. Awe. Gratitude.
"Do you think the child might come early?" Niegal asked, his voice low and serious.
The Behike chuckled softly, never ceasing her examination.
"Trust me," she said, "you do not want to rush these things."
Elena laughed gently. It was so like him- to worry more than dream.
She stretched a little, longing to walk beneath the sun again. Her skin hadn't seen true daylight in months, hidden here beneath layers of mountain and spell.
Across the room, Niegal sat silently as a healer changed the bandages over his side. He winced once but never looked away from Elena.
Their eyes met.
There was a stillness there. A thousand thoughts shared in a single glance.
Joy. Pain. Awe. Gratitude.
"Should we worried about the timing?" Niegal asked, his voice low and serious.
The Behike chuckled softly, never ceasing her examination.
"Trust me," she said, "you do not want to rush these things."
Elena laughed gently. It was so like him; to worry more than dream.
The healer finished Niegal's dressings. He rose, pulling on a loose shirt and wincing at the familiar tug of healing skin.
He crossed to her, sitting beside her on the floor.
Elena leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder.
The Behike stood, brushing her hands off. Her voice turned serious.
"In another week," she said, "you may be strong enough to move. I'll prepare transport to the Red Chapel."
At that, both Elena and Niegal reached for each other's hands.
The weight of her words settled.
The world outside still hunted them. The war still raged.
But they were ready.
Almost.
Just then, a sudden bump from within made Elena gasp. She clutched her belly, eyes wide.
"They're strong," she whispered, smiling despite the discomfort. "Like you."
Niegal placed a large, calloused hand over her stomach, his palm trembling slightly.
He felt the nudge. The life.
"Amazing…" he breathed.
He never expected this.
A child. A second chance. A future.
For so long, he had believed the family name and legacy would die with Seamus. That his time had passed, that fatherhood was not in the cards.
But here, now, this moment shimmered like a miracle.
Despite the lingering pain in his side, Niegal's chest swelled with pride.
He bent down and kissed Elena, long and soft, one hand on her belly and the other cupping her cheek.
A kiss of promise.
Of hope.
Of what's to come.
Elena hummed a quiet lullaby, one the Behike had taught her. Her voice was soft and low, and as she sang, the baby settled again.
In that stillness, with their foreheads pressed together, the weight of the world melted.
It was the calm before the storm.