Chapter Forty-Four – The Price of Fire and BloodThe hall trembled beneath

The hall trembled beneath the weight of silence.

Not the peaceful kind.

The kind that came after a scream. The kind that promised something worse than sound.

Raina stood with her back to the remnants of the council chamber, the silver mark on her skin still glowing like hot coal. She hadn't moved since Elias spoke since those words fractured the air like a curse.

"The child must be protected," he had said.

But what he hadn't said what none of them had dared say aloud hung between them like a blade:

The child is the key.

Behind her, Lucien's footsteps echoed softly as he approached. He didn't ask how she felt. He didn't offer comfort. He just stood beside her, letting his presence be enough.

Until she broke the silence.

"So it's true," she said. Her voice felt foreign in her throat. "The prophecy… the power that slumbers in the bloodline. It wasn't about me."

Lucien didn't deny it. "It was always about what comes after."

Her breath caught. "Then I was just the vessel."

"No," he said, sharply now. "You were the spark. The one who defied fate. Who survived when every path tried to break you."

She turned to him. "And what kind of mother am I supposed to be now, Lucien? When war still stalks our doorstep and my body burns like it's still unraveling?"

Lucien didn't flinch. "You'll be the kind of mother who rewrites destiny."

The meeting had ended in disarray.

Maeva, bloodied and breathless from the latest battle near the southern wall, had brought news: a new Coven force had been spotted larger, stranger, pulsing with corrupted magic and bone-clad beasts. The war wasn't just lingering. It was evolving.

And somewhere in the middle of that, Elias had dropped the truth like a blade onto the table.

"You carry the Flameborn," he had said. "The last Huntress. The one who ends the line… or begins it anew."

The council had scattered soon after. Fear did that to people.

But Raina stayed.

She always did.

Even when it broke her.

Later that night, the corridors of the Keep were unusually quiet. As if the stones themselves were holding their breath.

Raina wandered them alone, cloak pulled tight around her frame. Her body still felt foreign too much power blooming beneath her skin, too many visions crawling at the edge of her thoughts. Memories that weren't hers. Voices that hadn't been born yet.

And always, beneath it all, the pulsing heat at her core.

Not just magic.

Life.

A child.

Lucien's child.

The realization still felt surreal. Terrifying. Sacred.

She paused before the great mirror at the junction of the Moonhall. In it, she barely recognized herself. The woman staring back had eyes like silver fire, a mark that now curled up her throat like a crown of flame, and shoulders no longer bowed by fear.

She looked like a goddess of war.

But she felt like a woman unraveling.

"Is this what power costs?" she whispered.

The reflection did not answer.

But someone else did.

"You're not unraveling, Raina. You're becoming."

She turned.

Maeva stood in the archway, arms crossed, her expression gentler than usual.

"I heard the child quickened," she said softly.

Raina nodded. "Elias confirmed it. The flame runs strong. Too strong."

Maeva walked to her, their reflections side by side now. "You know, when I first took up the blade, they told me women like us couldn't lead. That we were too soft. Too emotional. That love was a liability."

Raina tilted her head. "Was it?"

Maeva smiled faintly. "It was the reason I fought harder. Not less."

They stood in silence a moment before Maeva continued. "War is coming faster than we hoped. You won't be able to hide this pregnancy much longer."

"I don't intend to hide it," Raina said. "But I need to finish this before it finishes me."

Maeva's eyes darkened. "Then let's buy you time."

By morning, the Keep was stirring with whispers.

The Flameborn carried more than prophecy now.

She carried life.

Lucien watched her from the balcony as she trained. Despite everything, she still insisted on leading by example sword in hand, sweat on her brow, power crackling beneath her skin like a brewing storm.

He wanted to lock her away.

Wrap her in silk and shadows.

But he knew better.

She would set fire to any prison, even one made from love.

So instead, he walked toward her. Let her feel him coming. Let her choose.

She didn't turn until he was only a foot away.

"You're bleeding," he said.

She glanced at the gash on her arm. "It's nothing."

"It's something to me."

He took her arm gently, pressing cloth against the wound. Their eyes met, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

"I want to protect you," he said, voice rough.

"You do," she replied.

"I want to protect our child."

"You will."

His jaw tightened. "I want to burn the world before it touches either of you."

She stepped closer. "Then stay beside me, Lucien. Fight with me. Not in front of me. Not behind. Beside."

He exhaled, slow. Nodded.

And kissed her like it might be the last.

By dusk, the scouts returned with news.

The new Coven force wasn't just a battalion.

It was an army.

And at its head…

Was a creature none of them had ever seen.

Shrouded in smoke. Antlers like charred bone. A face made of shifting masks.

It didn't march.

It glided.

Lucien read the report with a dark frown. "They call it The Veil King."

Maeva hissed. "He was a myth. A phantom from the old texts. A general of the first rebellion."

Elias folded his arms. "If the Veil King is real, then we are no longer dealing with a war of survival. This is extinction."

Raina stared at the sketches the scouts had drawn.

There was something familiar in the shape of that mask. In the fire that trailed behind it.

And in the voice that had haunted her dreams since the night she awoke as the Huntress.

"It's not just the Veil King," she whispered.

They all turned.

"It's someone else," she said slowly. "Someone tied to me. To the Huntress bloodline. I can feel it in my bones."

Lucien's voice was low. "Then who is it?"

Raina looked up, fire dancing in her eyes.

"We'll find out on the battlefield."

That night, the moon rose behind clouds like torn parchment, red and watching.

Raina stood in her chamber, armor half-donned, blade at her side.

She looked down at her stomach still flat, still silent.

But she knew what it carried.

Not a weakness.

A future.

Lucien joined her wordlessly, his arm sliding around her waist.

"I'm with you," he said.

"Until the end?" she asked.

"No," he replied. "Until the beginning."

They didn't sleep that night.

There were no more dreams.

Only fire.

And tomorrow.

And war.