Chapter 193 Chapter 193

Chapter 193 Chapter 193
Jolene
The stone floor of the Moon Temple is so cold it bites right through the thick wool of my socks, but the rest of me is on fire.
Every muscle in my lower back feels like it's being wrung out like a wet rag. My hands are trembling as I grip the cold brass railing of the birthing bed, my knuckles turning stark white. The pain rolls through my lower abdomen in heavy, relentless waves, tight and agonising, crushing the air out of my lungs until I can barely squeeze out a shallow breath.
"In through the nose, Jo," High Priestess Vanya says softly, her voice a steady anchor in the dim, echoing cavern of the temple. She wipes a damp, cool cloth across my sweaty forehead. "Slowly now. Let the wave crest."
"I am... trying... to let it crest, Vanya," I gasp, my teeth grinding together as another contraction peaks, making me feel like my pelvis is being pried apart with an iron crowbar. "It feels less like a wave and more like a freight train loaded with bricks."
A faint, sympathetic smile touches the older woman's lips, but the atmosphere in the sacred sanctuary remains heavy and thick enough to choke on.
Outside the massive silver-and-iron doors, Rhea and Kaelen are standing guard with Lexington, Astraea, and Calla who would not budge even when the guards threatened her. 
But beyond those doors, no warrior, no guard, and no King is permitted to step foot. The birthing temple is a sanctuary reserved exclusively for the mother, the child, and the Lunites. I feel at once extraordinarily special and terribly alone. Humans take it for granted that they won’t be alone during birth, but the Lycans appear to be about a century behind in that regard.
Through our mate bond, Merrick feels miles away. He put up his walls so I won’t worry, but I can still feel him a little - a muted, distant thrum of iron, blood, and cold rage echoing somewhere deep in the earth. He’s fighting in the mines. He’s surrounded by magic casters, shadow dwellers and warrior fae, risking his life to save our daughter, while I sit in this ancient, cavernous stone room without him.
We are both wrapped up in our own wars, but I selfishly wish he was here with me instead.
The loneliness hits me harder than the physical pain. It’s a cold, hollow ache right in the center of my chest. He isn't here to hold my hand. He isn't here to let me crush his fingers while I scream through a contraction. I’m sitting in the dark heart of the Moon Temple, surrounded by strangers, waiting to bring our daughter into a world that feels like it’s tearing itself apart at the seams.
Hope gives a sudden, violent kick against my ribs. It’s low and hard and it takes my breath away.
"Easy, little star," I whisper, my voice cracking as I press my hand flat over the tight, low drop of my belly. "Your dad's busy being dramatic with a fae lord, so it's just you and me for a minute."
Vanya kneels beside the bed, completely ignoring the solemn distance usually kept by high priestesses, and takes my left hand in both of hers. Her skin is warm, rough, and steady.
"You are not alone in this dark hour, Queen Jolene," Vanya says gently, her hazel eyes holding mine with a fierce, quiet intensity. "Your mate is fighting for your peace outside these walls. And while he holds the line, we will hold you within them. Your fear is natural, but your strength is ancient."
She turns her head slightly, giving a quiet signal to the five Lunite novices standing in a semi-circle around the foot of the bed. They wear sweeping robes of pale silver silk that trail silently across the slate floor, their faces hidden under deep hoods.
They begin to chant.
It isn't a loud, theatrical spell. It’s a low, resonant hum. I can tell that it’s an ancient, wordless melody. I don’t know the old language, but it’s beautiful. Their song vibrates straight through the stone floor and into my soul. The sound rises and falls like the tide, smooth and hypnotic, weaving around the vaulted room until the very air feels dense with ancient magic.
Remarkably, I feel better. The pain is magnificent, but my soul is at peace. The fear ebbs away like a bad dream. 
"Breathe with us, Jolene," Vanya whispers, squeezing my fingers tightly as another contraction begins to build in my lower back, sharp and unforgiving. "Let the song carry the weight. You concentrate on bringing this little miracle into the world."
“Oh… Goddess… not… another fucking miracle.”
“All babies are miracles, Jo,” Vanya says. “Each one special in their own way.”
I nod. She did not mean that Hope will be born with a curse like me, just that she is a baby coming to join her family.
I close my eyes and surrender to the sound.
Every time a brutal wave of pain threatens to drag me under, Vanya’s hand holds mine, and the rhythmic, solemn chant of the Lunites wraps around my mind like a warm shield. I stop fighting the contractions and lean into them, letting the music push through the terror, letting the low, sacred harmony fill the massive, empty space where Merrick’s physical presence should be.
The pain reaches a sudden, blinding peak, a sharp, tearing pressure that makes my eyes snap open, a gasp tearing from my throat.
"Now, Queen," Vanya says, her gentle voice turning firm, commanding, and absolute. "Bring this little girl home. Push as hard as you can."
I bear down with everything left in my body, gripping Vanya’s hand so hard I can feel the bones shifting beneath her skin. I scream. A raw, guttural sound that echoes up into the high vaulted ceiling of the temple.
And then, the world stops.
The heavy, suffocating weight in my abdomen gives way, replaced by a sudden, weightless rush.
Above us, the high glass dome of the Moon Temple flares with a blinding, impossible light. It isn't just moonlight, and it isn't just the sun. It’s a brilliant, shimmering aurora of gold and silver light that bursts through the glass, raining down over the birthing bed in a cascade of silent, sparkling dust. 
The cold stone floor glows with warmth, the ancient runes etched into the walls lighting up one by one in perfect, golden harmony.
The Lunites' chant cuts off sharply into a collective, breathy gasp of awe. 
I would gasp too, but I’m too busy holding my breath waiting to hear my daughter cry.
Then, right in the center of that quiet, sacred light, a small, furious voice shatters the solemn silence of the temple.
“Can I hold her?” I ask. “Give her to me.”
“In a moment, your majesty.”
Vanya lets out a soft, trembling breath, a brilliant smile breaking across her aged face as she lifts the tiny, squirming bundle wrapped in warm linen.
"A daughter of the North," Vanya whispers, her voice thick with reverence as she gently lays the baby against my bare chest. "A child of the sun and the moon."
“Hello little girl,” I say and collapse back against the pillows, chest heaving, tears streaming freely down my flushed cheeks as I wrap my shaking arms around my daughter.
She's tiny, soft, and covered in a faint dusting of golden light that slowly fades into her pale skin. A tuft of dark, thick hair sticks to her forehead, and when she opens her eyes, I catch a flash of brilliant, unmistakable forest-green.
"Hey there, Hope," I sob, pressing my lips to her tiny, warm forehead, my heart swelling so fast it feels like it might burst right out of my ribs. "Look at you. Aren’t you beautiful? We made it, baby. We made it."
Through the mate bond, miles away at the mines, the muted distance suddenly shatters. A violent, overwhelming wave of pure, golden warmth and unconditional love erupts through the link as Merrick feels our daughter's first breath. It’s a sudden, fierce connection that tells me he knows she's here.