Aster's condition worsened with each passing day, as if a shadow had curled its fingers around her soul and was slowly squeezing the life out of her. Her body—frail, trembling, pale—was fighting a war no one could see.
The maids tiptoed around her like she was made of glass. Cane, her silent guardian, watched over her like a hawk. But today, something had shifted. His gaze was sharper. His tone, unusually gentle.
"Aster… would you allow me to transfer you to the old mansion's clinic?" Cane asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "You need constant monitoring now. Machines, specialized tools—everything's there."
Aster blinked, her lips quivering into a ghost of a smile. "Quit pretending, Cane. I'm a doctor."
She reached out, resting a cold hand over her belly, tears slipping freely down her cheeks.
"I already know. I'm pregnant. And my body... it's breaking. Whatever's growing inside me isn't human. It's a Lycan."
Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence.
"Our chances are fifty-fifty, aren't they?" she continued, her voice cracking. "Either the baby dies... or it devours me from the inside. This has never happened before. A human, pregnant with a Lycan child? This is history. A tragedy in the making."
Cane's throat bobbed. His fists clenched. "Aster... I wanted to protect you from the truth. I've been trying to contact Carl—he needs to know. But he's still unreachable. And we can't risk the Council or our enemies discovering the child. You're a target now."
Aster looked out the window, the sky outside overcast. "How far along?"
"Eight weeks."
"And a Lycan pregnancy lasts...?"
"Twenty weeks," Cane admitted. "They grow faster, stronger, more demanding."
"Then why can I feel it move already?"
Cane blinked, stunned.
Aster's lips curled into a quiet, almost defiant smile. "Because this child wants to live. And I'll make sure it does."
---
12th Week – The Safe Cage
The old mansion was ancient, regal, and fortified like a fortress. Within its cold stone walls, Aster lay in a room flooded with filtered sunlight. She was no longer the ghost of herself—her cheeks had regained a hint of color, and the roundness of her belly announced her secret loud and clear.
Only eight more weeks.
Every day was a tightrope walk between hope and despair. Monitors hummed quietly around her. Injections kept the fetus alive. Carefully curated meals restored her fading strength. And in the afternoon, she played chess with Master Landon, the former patriarch—witty, sharp, and oddly fond of her.
Genie, a bright-eyed doula with a cheeky sense of humor, stayed by Aster's side like a sister. She reminded Aster of Jean—her long-lost best friend—and the comfort of that memory kept her sane.
Still, the world outside moved dangerously.
From S Country, news arrived. Carl was close. The enemy was almost cornered.
But Carl didn't know.
Didn't know she was carrying his child.
Didn't know the heir of two worlds—the human and the Lycan—was growing inside her, quietly, secretly.
---
20th Week – The Calm Before the Storm
Any moment now.
That's what the doctors whispered. The baby was strong. The mother, barely holding on.
They had decided on a C-section. It was the only way to ensure both mother and child would survive. But they'd wait—wait until the first contraction.
Until nature made its move.
Aster, confined to bed rest, stared endlessly at the ceiling. Her fingers twitched with the need to move, to breathe the outside air.
"Just five minutes outside, Genie," she pleaded.
Genie, stubborn as ever, shook her head. "No, my lady. Not a chance. The baby could come any time. We can't risk it."
So Aster sighed. Closed her eyes. And drifted into uneasy sleep.
---
The Fire That Came in the Night
"Lady Aster! Wake up—wake up now!"
Aster's eyes flew open to the sight of Genie's pale, frantic face. The air reeked of smoke and blood.
"What's happening?!" Aster gasped, struggling to sit up.
"We're under attack! The mansion's compromised! The enemy knows Carl isn't here—they've chosen now to strike!"
Genie was already packing a small bag with supplies. Her hands shook as she shoved boots onto Aster's feet and threw a coat over her shoulders.
"Cane and the old master are distracting them. We have to run. Now!"
The sounds of chaos echoed from below—shouts, gunfire, the unmistakable roar of battle.
Genie moved the cabinet aside, revealing a hidden passage behind it.
Aster's heart pounded as they slipped into the secret tunnel. Darkness surrounded them, but it was better than dying upstairs.
Minutes? Hours? She didn't know how long they ran. Only that her lungs burned and her legs ached when they finally stopped—at a cave hidden near a rushing waterfall.
"Here," Genie said, breathless. "We rest here for tonight. I'll prepare something for you to eat. We'll travel again at first light and find a safe place to send a distress signal."
Aster collapsed onto the soft moss floor. She looked back, eyes catching a faint glow through the trees.
Flames.
The old mansion—the only safe place left—was burning to the ground.
Tears spilled down her face.
"They're gone…" she whispered.
She covered her mouth, sobbing silently. The child inside her shifted, almost as if sensing her sorrow.
And then it hit her.
A deep, sharp pain that tore through her abdomen like fire.
She gasped. "Genie—Genie! It's happening!"
"What?!"
"The contractions—it's starting!"
Her body trembled violently. The baby wasn't waiting for morning.
In the heart of the wild, with no equipment, no doctors, no Carl...
Aster was about to give birth.