Chapter 85 – The Baby’s Power

Chapter 85 – The Baby’s Power
Scarlett

I'd always thought strength was due to willpower. From the decisions we'd made when everything else was taken away.
But I never thought the strongest force I'd ever known would be from her.
From the tiny, pulsing light hidden deep within me—my child.
She had already reshaped the currents of destiny just with her presence, making foes friends, shaking monarchs, making a one-time mortal vampire king to question the course he had designed for himself over centuries of blood. None of that prepared me for what transpired on the evening when her power first came to the fore.
It was to be a quick recon mission—reconning the remote western ridge where a rogue gang of vampires had been sighted bordering our lands. Lucien ordered me that I was to remain behind, but I would not obey. I would not remain behind and issue orders from a command center. If I was asking these people to die for me, then I needed to be among them.
The air was heavy with foreboding as we crept silent through the pines' shadow. The moon rode low, veiled by cloud, casting the world into silver and ash shades. My hand lay light upon my knife, breath quiet, senses awake. My child moved lightly under my ribs, feeling my wariness.
Lucien stepped forward with silent strides, his senses much farther-reaching than mine. The other scouts spread out in a broad curve, but I stayed by him. There was reassurance in him—a stillness of strength I had learned to depend upon, though I had not known it myself.
And then it changed.
A spurt of motion.
A scream.
The smell of blood struck my nose first, before the sound did. I spun around in time to see one of our scouts drop to the forest floor, his throat ripped open.
"Ambush!" Lucien cried out, drawing his sword in a smooth movement.
They were quicker than I had anticipated—rogue vampires, three of them, feral-eyed and brutish, red-stained lips. They glided like specters, flitting from tree to tree, their cackling sending shivers.
I didn't wait. I plunged in, blade shining, cutting one in the chest, but I was late. My center of gravity was off. My balance had been uneven for weeks now, and I hadn't yet learned to adjust to how pregnancy slowed my reflexes.
One of them got by me.
Fangs plunged into my side.
The pain came instantly and was white. I gasped and stumbled, and Lucien was on top of me in a moment, his sword slashing into the heart of the beast with a snarl.
But I was already falling.
Everything was in slow motion.
The world was turning sideways, trees whirling as I landed on the ground, my blood sticky between my fingers. I heard Lucien's shouting—distant, frantic. The fighting continued, but I was paralyzed.
I could only think of one thing.
Her.
My baby.
I laid both hands on my belly, my eyes streaming with tears. "Please," I breathed. "Don't leave me. I'm not ready to lose you…"
I gasped for air, and then—
Something shifted.
A heat seeped from the core of me. Not fever, but something. ancient. Sacred. It trickled out of my womb, beating with my pulse. No—her pulse.
My body ceased spasming.
The agony in my ribcage started to fade.
I gazed in amazement as the gash that had cut through flesh and muscle started to close. The blood slowed, the torn flesh knotting back together with stitches of golden thread that glowed underneath my skin.
"What—what is this…"
I whispered.
Lucien sat beside me, his eyes huge with shock. "Scarlett… your wound—it's healing."
"I know," I whispered.
And then I felt her.
Not just the flutter of her movement, but she herself. Fire burning within my chest. She was alive, and she was conscious. Her power—somehow connected with mine—had responded to my terror with life.
Lucien's hold on my hand grew tighter. "This is her work?"
"Yes," I gasped in wonder. "She saved me."
He stared at me with something approaching reverence. "Scarlett. this child is not a symbol. She's a miracle."
I nodded slowly. Tears ran down my face. "She's more than both of us ever dared dream."
In the cabin, I lay in the healing chamber while the others built up our defenses. Rumor of the ambush flew quickly, but the real news—the miracle—spread faster.
Whispers traveled through the resistance camp like smoke:
The queen's infant child saved her life.
A child who heals wounds within the womb…
She carries the child of prophecy.
I should have been frightened.
All I could feel was the renewed sense of motivation.
This little girl… she wasn't the reason for the fight when I fought alone. She was the fight. A living reminder of what was to come of the war. A future that once seemed impossible.
I sat by the fire that evening, my hand on my belly and the other wrapped around the pendant my mother had worn. I considered Kael—of the connection we'd lost—and of the legacy I would leave to this child, regardless of her heritage.
"You're not the daughter of night and fire," I told her.
"You're the daughter of hope."
The firelight danced across the walls, creating long shadows.
And in the silence, I could hear a heart beating that was not my own.
Strong. Steadfast. Unconquerable.
Lucien visited me at midnight. He was in the doorway, his coat dripping with rain.
"You should sleep," he said softly.
"I did," I breathed. "I dreamt of her."
He said nothing, and moved closer. "What did you see?"
"She was walking across a battlefield, but she wasn't afraid. The world shook around her. But she… didn't."
Lucien's expression softened. "You've done all you can for her."
"I hope so."
He looked at me for a moment. "There's another thing," he said at last. "We've had word from the North. The vampire council is reassembling."
"Kael?" I questioned, my tone chillier than I intended.
"No sign of him. And his absence is giving other people courage. They're seeking a leader to cover the gap."
"And they'll come here."
Lucien nodded. "Soon."
I stood up, brushing ashes off my hands. "Then let them come. I will not hide."
Lucien bowed his head, but a gleam of pride played in his face. "You never have."
As he walked away, I called out after him. "Lucien?"
He stopped.
"Thanks. For believing in me. For waiting."
He nodded once. "Always."
The kid inside of me stirred, as if in response.
And I finally, finally realized what power was.
Not magic or blood or even destiny.
But choice.
The choice to rise. The choice to believe something greater than yourself. The choice to become more than anyone had ever thought you could be.
And she—my daughter—had already made the choice.