"Push, my lady—push! One, two, three! You're doing so well!" Genie's voice trembled as she coached Aster through the pain.
Sweat soaked Aster's pale face. Her screams were muffled, forced behind clenched teeth as she bit down hard on a strip of cloth. She couldn't afford to be loud—not now, not when the enemy could be just steps away.
This wasn't a royal birthing chamber. It was a cold, damp cave hidden behind a waterfall, deep within a forest crawling with danger. The air was sharp with mist, fear, and blood.
A final cry escaped her lips as her entire body shook with the force of one last push.
Then—silence.
A moment passed.
And then—
A baby's cry pierced the air.
Tears streamed down Genie's cheeks as she cradled the newborn. "A boy... A strong, beautiful boy... You did it, my lady," she whispered.
But Aster didn't respond.
She had slipped into unconsciousness, her body giving in to the agony of bringing a Lycan heir into the world.
---
By sunrise, Aster stirred.
Her first thought wasn't of herself—but of the baby.
Her voice was hoarse. "Where is he?"
Genie's warm smile greeted her. "Right here, my lady," she whispered, gently placing the child into her arms.
The baby's tiny fingers curled around Aster's thumb, his cry now soft and rhythmic. "He's perfect," Aster murmured, tears pooling in her eyes.
"You need to eat," Genie said softly. "If you regain your strength in three days, we can move. But until then, rest. You've done the impossible."
"I can't stay long," Aster whispered. "They'll find us eventually. I won't let them take him."
Genie bowed her head. "We'll leave tomorrow at dawn. I've already prepared everything."
The two women sat quietly in the cave, wrapped in shadows and silence—nurturing the future, fearing the storm.
---
Before the first light of day, they began their escape.
The forest was dark, its towering trees draped in fog. The scent of pine and damp earth filled their lungs—but beneath it, a new scent lingered.
The unmistakable, magnetic scent of a newborn Lycan.
And it didn't take long for their enemies to find them.
A pack of rogue werewolves stepped into their path, their eyes glowing with malicious intent.
"Hand over the child," the leader barked, his voice like gravel, cold and lethal. "We've waited too long for this."
Aster clutched her baby tighter, her arms trembling. "You'll never have him," she spat. "You'll have to kill me first."
A cruel smirk twisted across the werewolf's face. "Gladly."
He raised his bow, the tip of a poisoned arrow gleaming under the moonlight.
"No—!" Genie cried out.
But it was too late.
The arrow flew.
Aster turned her body, shielding her baby with her own flesh.
The arrow pierced her arm.
Blood sprayed. Her knees buckled. But she stood her ground.
With a shaky breath, she raised her hand and muttered an incantation. A dense fog erupted from her palm, swallowing the forest floor in a thick, ghostly white.
"Damn it! She's a witch?!" the werewolf leader shouted, his voice distant through the fog.
"She fooled us all! Find her! Kill her! Bring me the heir!"
But Aster and Genie were gone.
---
They ran until their legs gave out, until Aster's blood left a trail behind them.
"My lady, you're bleeding too much!" Genie gasped. "Let me take the baby—please!"
"No," Aster panted. "If they catch us… I won't let them take him."
Her lips were blue. Her skin turned ashen.
"The poison... it's spreading…" she whispered, her body collapsing against a tree.
"No! We're almost out!" Genie cried, clutching Aster's shoulder. "I can see the road—we just need a few more steps!"
But Aster knew. Her time had run out.
"Genie… I can't make it," she said, her voice barely audible. "Take him. Please. Protect him. Bring him to Carl."
"My lady… no... I can't leave you…"
Aster smiled through the tears. "You're brave. You're strong. Promise me... you'll love him like your own."
"I promise," Genie whispered, cradling the baby close as her tears fell like rain.
Aster leaned down and kissed her son one last time, brushing a trembling finger against his cheek. "Live, my love. Live for both of us."
With the last of her magic, she whispered a spell—an enchantment of protection and concealment.
A golden light pulsed from her fingertips, wrapping around Genie and the child.
"Now run," Aster said, her body slumping.
"No—please—no—" Genie sobbed, shaking her head, but the spell pushed her forward, forcing her toward safety.
Behind her, the last daughter of mankind and mother of a Lycan heir collapsed beneath the trees—her blood soaking the forest floor, her final breath fading into the wind.