Chapter 157

One year has passed since Lumina gave birth to her twins, and the pack has gradually fallen into a season of peace and quiet power. The once restless air now hums with the rhythm of stability… early training drills in the yard, back-to-back council meetings echoing through the west wing, and the sound of toddlers giggling in hallways that once knew only war.

In the middle of it all, Lumina juggles her titles as Luna, Queen Mother of witches, and full-time mother to two barely-tamed forces of nature wrapped in toddler skin.

But this morning... something feels off.

Gray clouds hang too low in the sky. The light filtering through the wide bedroom windows is muted, like it doesn’t want to come in. There’s a stillness to the air, a kind of anticipation that puts the skin on edge.

Inside the Alpha’s private quarters, Theon buttons up a dark tactical coat, its shoulder seams lined in subtle wolf-crest embroidery. His movements are brisk, efficient. He doesn't speak at first, just runs a palm through his hair and checks the time again on his watch.

Bernardo stands near the dresser, organizing sealed scrolls, glancing between his tablet and the hard copy documents. His phone buzzes quietly on the surface beside him. He silences it without looking.

“You sure you packed backup clothing?” Theon asks, eyes still scanning the weapons case on the far wall.

Bernardo snorts, not looking up. “We’re not staging a siege. It’s diplomacy.”

“That’s what we called it the last time before we had to drag two bodies back,” Theon mutters.

Bernardo glances over. “So what …you want to wear armor to a peace talk?”

“I want to come back alive,” Theon answers flatly. “With my Beta.”

The tension isn’t new between them. But this morning, it feels heavier. Present. A pair of young servants rush in silently behind them, carrying Theon’s leather duffel and a hard-case for emergency supplies. One bows slightly before placing the items on the side bench.

“Put the comms and trackers in the inside compartment,” Bernardo says without turning.

“Yes, Beta,” one replies quickly, and within moments, they’re gone again …the door whispering shut behind them.

There’s a knock.

Nioma enters, her satin robe clutched loosely around her frame. Her face is tight, tired eyes skipping right past Theon to Bernardo. She walks up to him, brushing her fingers against his arm, brief but tender.

“I don’t like this,” she murmurs. “They’ve been silent for too long. And that silence... it’s not strategic. It feels like a trap.”

Bernardo kisses her forehead gently. “It’s just a talk, Nio. We’re not staying. Just in and out.”

“That’s what you said when you went to negotiate with the Thornridge Alpha,” she says, her voice sharper now. “And you came back with your shoulder in stitches.”

He offers her a small smile. “This time, we’re smarter.”

She doesn’t respond. Just pulls back and stares at him for a long moment, like she’s memorizing his face.

Outside in the hallway, Lumina moves with slow, careful steps beside Bianca. The corridor is bathed in soft natural light, blending into the warm palette of polished floors and decorative archways. The usual background sounds, servants moving about, faint murmurs from the kitchen wing, a baby’s cry two rooms down, it seem too far away.

The nursery door remains closed. The twins are down for a nap after a chaotic morning of throwing food and howling at Bianca. Their little bodies still hadn’t mastered control over their tiny paws or tempers.

Lumina’s hand smooths over the front of her soft green blouse. Her gaze moves toward the front foyer where Theon and Bernardo prepare.

“You don’t have to go,” she says, her voice quiet but steady. “You could send the council’s representatives.”

Theon steps forward, placing both hands on her waist. His eyes meet hers, they look strong, sure…

“If I send others, it’ll be seen as cowardice. I need them to know I’m not afraid to show up.”

“Then maybe they’re not allies anymore,” she murmurs.

He leans in and rests his forehead against hers. A breath passes between them. No words.

“I’ll be back before nightfall,” he says anyway, lying like they both don’t know better.

She doesn’t argue. Just nods.

Moments later, Bernardo and Theon walk out through the east entrance, flanked by four guards in tactical black. Their coats flare slightly with their movement — modern, sleek, efficient. The front gate gives a reluctant groan as it opens. Theon doesn’t look back.

Once the last engine hums away into the distance, Lumina finally exhales. She turns back toward the nursery, her mind already flicking to the list of things left undone — feeding, the herb treatment for her daughter’s stomach rash, the charm Bianca said she’d place near the cribs.

Bianca follows her silently, arms crossed. But her eyes are distant. Alert.

“They’re getting stronger,” she says finally. “The girl’s aura is clear now. But the boy…”

Lumina pauses. Her hand lingers on the nursery door. “What about him?”

“I noticed something strange,” Bianca says. “His scent. It changed. Just for a second. Like something was on top of it.”

Lumina doesn’t answer. She’s already remembering he cried so much two ago that lasted nearly an hour with no physical cause, or how sometimes the lights flicker when he giggles.

“He’s been fine,” Lumina says, but even she hears the uncertainty in her own voice.

Bianca picks up on it too. “Could be nothing. I just... I’d feel better if you kept a close watch while Theon’s away.”

Lumina nods, finally turning the knob.

The nursery smells like baby powder and warm linen. Soft lullaby music hums quietly from a small smart speaker on the shelf. One of the servants, a young girl from the east wing, bows slightly and quietly leaves as they enter.

The girl is sound asleep, one hand curled around the edge of her plush toy. The boy, though, twists slightly under his blanket. Even in sleep, his brows are pulled together.

Lumina walks to him. She places a gentle hand on his chest. His heartbeat is normal. But there’s a pull there, like the warmth of his body is turning inward, not radiating like it used to.

She sits down beside the crib, silent.

Bianca hovers behind her, hands tucked into the folds of her robe. She says nothing, but her attention is sharp.

Down in the lower halls, Bianca’s steps fall heavy. She doesn’t head to the gardens. Instead, she drifts toward the old potion room. Something nags at her instincts, a strange pull in her gut. She reaches for the door handle, only to freeze.

There it is again, a faint, fading scent that is layered.

Not from this room. From somewhere else.

She turns fast and heads back upstairs. Her heart thumps hard as she climbs, steps speeding with each stair.

She doesn’t return to the nursery. Not yet. She goes to the east window overlooking the edge of the property. Wind brushes against her face through the open latch, she feels something cold and off.

“Why now?” she mutters.

Back in the nursery, Lumina gently strokes her son’s curls. His eyes flutter open, confused. A little dimmer than usual.

“Mama,” he whispers, his fingers reaching for her.

“I’m here,” she says, wrapping him up close. Her arms lock around him tighter than necessary.

Bianca appears in the doorway like a ghost.

Her eyes fall to the boy. She stiffens.

“What?” Lumina asks immediately.

Bianca doesn’t answer. She kneels beside the crib.

“Let me try something,” she murmurs.

Lumina shifts him gently into her lap, allowing Bianca to press a palm to the boy’s head.

For a second, nothing.

Then Bianca’s hand recoils, sharp.

“What did you feel?” Lumina demands.

Bianca hesitates. “It’s not a fever. It’s not natural either. Something’s... stuck to him. Faint. But present.”

Lumina’s jaw tightens. “He eats. Sleeps. He’s fine.”

“I know,” Bianca says. “But it’s still there.”

They sit in silence for a long moment, the only sound being the slow hum of the lullaby and the faint shifting of sheets.

Bianca rises. “No one touches him but us until Theon returns.”

Lumina nods once, her fingers gripping the boy tighter.