Chapter 149

The path ahead illuminated by moonlight that felt like a blessing rather than mere chance. Caelion walked beside me, his hand in mine, our fingers intertwined so tightly I could feel the tremor that still hadn’t left him. Every few steps he would glance at me, his sea-glass eyes catching the moonlight, his expression a mixture of wonder and disbelief, as though afraid I might vanish if he looked away for too long.

Ravin walked on my other side, steady and solid as the earth itself, but I caught him smiling too, his tail swaying with a contentment I hadn’t seen in weeks.

I was pregnant.

The words kept echoing in my mind, foreign and familiar all at once. Another child. Caelion’s child.

The thought made my chest ache with a happiness so profound it felt like pain. I had given him this; given him the one thing he had waited for, hoped for, dreamed of in those quiet moments when he thought no one was watching. I knew his story, knew the loneliness that had shaped him, the rejection that had forged his silences. The father who chased after love that will never come, forgetting the son who stood in his shadow. The mother, whose hatred for her mate ran so deep she refused to even acknowledge the child they had made together. I had seen the way they treated him, like a waste of space, like a burden, like something that should have never existed.

I saw it still, in the way he tenses in the presents of his parents, in the way he never begged for attention, scared that he might annoy me for asking for too much. He had been unloved in his own home, unwanted by the two people who should have cherished him most. Cast aside. Forgotten. Made to feel like he owed them simply for drawing breath.

And now... now he would have this. A piece of himself made flesh, yes, but more than that; a family that would love him without condition. He already had that with our other children; they adored him, and he loved them with a fierceness that surprised even him. But I knew, deep in the quiet places of my heart, that having your own flesh and blood was something different. Something sacred. Not that he would love our older children any less; love doesn’t divide like that, it only multiplies, but this... this was something he had never dared to hope for. A child who would carry his eyes, his laugh, his stubborn streak. A child who would look at him with wonder rather than disappointment, who would reach for him with trust rather than resentment. Our baby would know only love, only safety, only the warmth of parents who had chosen each other, chosen this, chosen to weave their lives together into something unbreakable.

I squeezed his hand, feeling the calluses there, the strength that had protected me so many times. He turned to look at me, and I saw the question in his eyes; the fear that this was too good, that he didn’t deserve it, that it would be taken away.

"It’s real," I whispered, bringing his hand to my stomach, pressing his palm flat against my stomach that hadn’t taken shape yet. "You’re going to be a father, Caelion. And you’re going to be the kind of father you needed. The kind you never had."

His breath hitched. His eyes glistened. He didn’t speak; he couldn’t, I think. But I felt the tremor in his hand, the way his fingers spread wide as if trying to cover as much of me as possible, as if he could hold this moment, hold me, hold our future, and never let go.

"You have me," I told him. "You have all of us. Unconditionally. Forever."

And for the first time since I’d known him, Caelion smiled without reservation, without the shadow that usually lurked at the edges. He smiled like a man who had finally, finally come home.

When we reached the house, the lights were still burning. Soryn met us at the door, his emerald eyes concerned, his tail lashing with worry. "You’re back late," he said, his gaze scanning my face for signs of distress. "Is everything—"

"Caelion is going to be a father," I said, the words bursting from me like birds taking flight.

Silence.

Then chaos.

The children materialized from every corner of the house, summoned by the commotion, rubbing sleep from their eyes or abandoning their games. My mates converged, Leon dropping the wood he was carrying, Veylan appearing from the shadows, Aureon rushing from the back rooms.

"What?" Soryn’s voice was barely a whisper, his eyes wide, his scales seeming to shimmer with sudden color.

"I’m pregnant," I said again, louder this time, letting the joy of it fill my voice. "Caelion’s baby. Mer baby."

The children erupted.

"Another one!" Atlas crowed, punching the air. "I knew it! I knew Mama was getting fat!"

"I’m not fat," I laughed, swatting at him. "I’m pregnant."

"Same thing," he grinned, dodging my hand.

"Boy or girl?" Chase pushed forward, his eyes bright. "I bet it’s twins. Two babies. Double the trouble."

"Twins?" Caelion laughed, the sound rich and disbelieving. "Chase, Mer folk don’t commonly have twins. One child is the blessing, the standard. Twins would be... extraordinary. A gift from the depths themselves."

"So you’re saying it’s possible?" Chase pressed, undeterred.

"Possible," Caelion admitted, his hand settling possessively on my stomach, his expression softening. "But rare. Very rare."

Jasper, never one to be outdone by his brothers, stepped forward with a seriousness that was entirely feigned. "Triplets," he declared, his chin lifted. "Three babies. Three times the love."

Caelion threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoing through the house, joyous and free. "Triplets?" he repeated, wiping his eyes. "Jasper, my boy, that would be a miracle. Twins are rare enough to be celebrated for generations. Triplets?" He shook his head, still smiling. "That would be the stuff of legends. Songs would be written. The sea itself would rise to honor such a birth."

"So you’re saying there’s a chance," Jasper said, completely serious.

"There’s always a chance," Caelion conceded, his eyes meeting mine with a warmth that made my knees weak. "But one healthy child is more than I ever dared hope for. One perfect, beautiful baby with their mother’s eyes and their father’s... well, hopefully not my temper."

"Definitely your temper," I teased, leaning into him. "And your stubbornness. And your kindness, your strength especially."

The children laughed, the sound filling the house like music. They crowded around us, touching my stomach with reverent fingers, asking questions in a tumult of voices that overlapped and collided.

"Will it have a tail?"

"Can it breathe underwater?"

"Will it be born in an egg or a belly?"

"Can I teach it to hunt?"

"Can I teach it to read?"

I laughed, holding up my hands to stem the tide of questions. "I’m not sure," I admitted, my smile wide and helpless. "This is my first Mer baby, after all. We’ll learn together."

The children exchanged glances, processing this, then immediately began debating among themselves what that might mean, their imaginations running wild with possibilities of tailed siblings and underwater nurseries.

Later, when the house had settled and the children were tucked into their beds, Caelion found me alone by the fire. He sat beside me, his hands clasped between his knees, his expression troubled.

"Krys," he said softly, his voice hesitant. "There’s something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you before."

I turned to face him, my heart skipping at the worry in his eyes. "What is it?"

He took a breath, his shoulders tense. "Mer children... they’re different from land beasts. The pregnancy, the birth, and the first years; everything is different." He looked down at his hands; guilt etched across his features. "You’ll need to be near water almost constantly as the pregnancy progresses. The baby will draw water from you, this is why you are experiencing dehydration. And when it’s time..." He swallowed hard. "You’ll have to give birth in the water. The baby will be born with a tail, and for the first year, they must live in the ocean. They can’t survive long on land until their lungs fully develop, until they can learn to change their form."

He finally met my eyes, his own glistening with unshed tears. "I’m sorry. I should have told you what to expect before we ever... before I let this happen. I was selfish. I wanted you, wanted this, and I didn’t think—"

"Caelion," I interrupted, taking his face in my hands. I could see the fear there, the belief that this burden would be too much, that I would resent him for it. I smiled, feeling that familiar optimism rise in my chest, the same spirit that had carried me through every challenge this world had thrown at me. "I told Merena I would visit her soon. So when the time is near, let us go to her home; the island with the lagoon. I’ll have the baby there, in the water, surrounded by family." I pressed my forehead to his, my voice steady and sure. "We’ll handle it together. It’ll be a new adventure. One we can enjoy together."

He stared at me, disbelief warring with hope in his expression. "You’re not angry?"

"How could I be?" I asked, pressing a kiss to his lips. "I’m having your baby, Caelion. A little piece of you and me. A little Mer baby with a tail and probably your stubbornness." I laughed, the sound light and genuine. Plus, I thought to myself, I’ll finally have my own Disney moment. My own little mermaid or merman. I can dress them in tiny seashell bras and take embarrassing photos and; wait, do Mer babies wear clothes? Or are they just... naked little fish people? Do I need to moisturize a baby with scales?

I stopped myself before any of that nonsense could spill out of my mouth, but the smile never left my face. "I’ve survived being thrown into another world, beast men, assassins, and Rina. I can survive a water birth and a year at the beach." I poked his chest lightly. "Just make sure you bring me snacks. And fan me. And tell me I’m pretty even when I’m bloated and cranky and yelling at you for doing this to me."

"I will," he promised, his voice thick with emotion and laughter. "I’ll do all of it."

"Good," I said, settling back against him with a contented sigh.

He pulled me into his arms then, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe, his body shaking with relief, with love, with gratitude.

"Thank you," he whispered against my hair. "Thank you for not being afraid. Thank you for wanting this. Thank you for wanting me."

I held him as the fire burned low, as the reality settled between us; not a burden, but a gift. A new adventure, indeed.

The next morning, I answered the children’s questions, or tried to, my heart swelling with each inquiry, each wide-eyed wonder. They were excited. They were happy. This new life was already loved, already cherished, already woven into the tapestry of our strange, beautiful family.

I found myself standing by the hatching nest, Soryn’s eggs warm beneath my hands.

"Soon," Soryn said, appearing beside me, his arm sliding around my waist. "Any day now, my love. The shells are thinning. I can feel them moving."

I leaned into him, my head on his shoulder, one hand on our eggs, one hand on my own hidden womb. Two miracles. Two blessings. One about to emerge into the world, one just beginning its journey.

"I can’t believe it," I whispered. "So much happiness. It feels like too much."

"It’s exactly enough," Soryn said, his voice rumbling through his chest. "You have given us everything, Krys. And we will spend the rest of our lives giving it back to you."

I closed my eyes, surrounded by love, by family, by the promise of tomorrow.

Life was about to get very, very interesting.