Chapter 89: After

The air was thick with dust and silence.

Every heartbeat echoed too loud in my ears as I tried to steady my breathing. The explosion of light had vanished as suddenly as it came, leaving the nursery bathed in moonlight that streamed through the jagged hole where the wall once stood.

The twins were sleeping soundly. Their tiny chests rose and fell, oblivious to the chaos that had just ended—or maybe, that had only just begun.

Kelvin was the first to move. He stumbled toward me, blood dripping from a cut along his jaw, his shirt torn and burned along one shoulder. “It’s quiet,” he said hoarsely. “Too quiet.”

Kevin sheathed his sword with shaking hands, his golden eyes dimming back to their natural hue. “The King’s gone,” he said, but his tone wasn’t sure. “Whatever you did, Molly… it sent him somewhere else. Banished him.”

“Or delayed him,” Kelvin added grimly.

I turned to the window. The moon still burned red in the sky, full and unnatural, staining the forest in crimson light. “The prophecy,” I whispered. “Balance. Light and shadow.”

Kevin frowned. “You heard something?”

I nodded slowly, my voice trembling. “When the twins’ power… merged, I heard a voice. It said one would guard the light, and the other would walk the path of shadow.” I swallowed hard. “It wanted me to choose between them.”

Kelvin’s expression darkened. “And you didn’t.”

“How could I?” I said, my voice cracking. “They’re both part of me.”

He stepped closer, his hand finding mine. “Then maybe that’s why you survived. Because you refused to break what was never meant to be divided.”

The three of us stood there for a long moment, surrounded by the quiet hum of aftermath. Outside, the forest whispered with the wind, carrying the scent of rain and blood. The rest of the pack was tending to the wounded, I knew, but for now, the heart of Mount Pleasant still stood.

Barely.

Kevin looked around the destroyed room, the cribs cracked, furniture splintered, walls scorched by the blast of power. “We’ll rebuild,” he said softly, almost to himself. “We always do.”

I brushed my thumb over our daughter’s tiny hand, watching her fingers curl instinctively around mine. “They’ll never be safe here,” I murmured.

Kelvin nodded slowly. “Not until we know where the King went.”

Kevin’s eyes flicked up, meeting mine. “We’ll find him before he finds them. I swear it.”

I wanted to believe him. But deep down, I could still feel the faint echo of that power—the King’s voice like smoke in the corners of my mind.

This isn’t over.

I shivered.

Kelvin must have sensed it because he placed a steadying hand on my shoulder. “You’re freezing,” he murmured. “Let’s get you and the twins downstairs.”

He lifted our son into his arms, careful and reverent, while Kevin took our daughter. I followed them, my legs barely holding me upright.

The hallway was a ruin—walls cracked, the scent of ozone and burnt wood heavy in the air. Downstairs, members of the pack were gathering, some in wolf form, some human, all battered but alive.

When they saw us, a hush fell over the room.

Kevin stepped forward, his voice clear and commanding even through exhaustion. “It’s done. The King has fallen.”

A cheer rose—a ragged, weary sound—but one filled with relief. The pack needed hope, and even if the truth was more complicated, I couldn’t bring myself to take that away from them.

As the others dispersed to tend to the wounded, Kelvin guided me to the long couch near the hearth. The fire was barely burning, but its faint glow was enough to warm the chill in my bones.

I sank down, cradling our son against me. His tiny heartbeat thrummed steadily against my chest.

Kevin crouched beside me, his fingers brushing my hair back gently. “You should rest, Luna.”

I gave a small, tired laugh. “You both say that like I could even sleep after that.”

Kelvin dropped beside me, resting his head against the back of the couch. “Then let us stay here with you. Just for a while.”

The fire crackled softly. For a few precious minutes, it almost felt normal. The three of us—together, our children safe, the night still.

Almost.

Then the faintest tremor rippled through the floorboards. Not enough to be dangerous, just… strange.

Kevin noticed it too. He lifted his head, frowning. “You felt that?”

Kelvin’s hand stilled on our son’s blanket. “Yes.”

I looked down at the twins. Their eyes were open now—one pair a pure, brilliant gold; the other, deep storm-grey. They stared at each other for a long moment, and something passed between them, silent and knowing.

The air around them shimmered faintly—barely visible, but enough to make the hair on my arms stand on end.

Kelvin whispered, “They’re linked.”

Kevin exhaled slowly. “Light and shadow.”

I shook my head. “They’re just babies.”

“Maybe,” Kelvin murmured. “But the prophecy doesn’t wait for them to grow.”

His words sent a cold weight into my chest. The twins yawned almost in unison, their tiny hands brushing together. The glow vanished instantly, leaving them both peacefully asleep.

The tremor stopped.

The silence that followed was almost heavier than the chaos before.

I turned to my mates. “What do we do now?”

Kevin leaned forward, his golden eyes softening. “We protect them. Whatever it takes.”

Kelvin’s hand covered mine. “And we prepare. Because if the King survived—and I think he did—he’ll come back for what he couldn’t take.”

I closed my eyes, exhaustion washing over me again. My heart ached with love, fear, and an unshakable sense that the world had shifted tonight.

When I opened them again, the moon had moved. Its light had softened, no longer red but silver-white again, washing over the forest.

The Blood Moon had passed.

For now.

Kevin stood and crossed to the window, staring out into the night. “We’ll need allies,” he said quietly. “The packs won’t sit idle if they hear what happened. The Council will want answers.”

Kelvin gave a low growl. “They won’t touch the twins.”

“They’ll try,” Kevin replied. “They always do.”

I looked down at our children again. So small, so perfect. So impossibly powerful. “Then we won’t let them.”

Kevin turned back toward me, his expression softening. “You’re stronger than any Luna before you, Molly. The prophecy didn’t choose wrong.”

I smiled faintly, though my chest ached. “Let’s hope it never has to test that.”

Kelvin glanced between us, his voice low. “It already has.”

The fire burned lower, the room dimming into a comfortable hush.

Outside, the forest sighed under the weight of the passing storm. Somewhere, an owl called—a haunting, solitary sound that echoed through the night.

I leaned back, my eyes heavy, and let the warmth of my mates surround me. The twins’ breathing lulled me, the rhythm steady and alive.

Maybe the world could wait until morning.

Because for now, we had survived.

And survival, for tonight, was enough.