Chapter 182: Loric's Birthday
The late afternoon sun bathed Sacred Moon’s central square in golden light, caressing the wooden and stone facades adorned with fluttering banners. In front of the pack house, a stage had been set up, and tables overflowed with a variety of dishes—sweet treats, grilled meats, and traditional fare—while glowing garlands pulsed gently in sync with the ambient magic.
The gathered crowd radiated good cheer. Children's laughter rang out, dragons in human form danced with wolves, the youngest darted between benches, and adults laughed, chatted, or kept a watchful eye on the day's little hero.
Loric.
Four years old today.
And the entire world seemed to be celebrating just for him.
The little boy darted between Elara, who was leading him toward the towering pile of gifts, and Drake, who was already teaching him “war rolls” (utterly impractical but highly entertaining).
Elora had brought an absolutely gigantic cake—three tiers, chocolate, fruit, and a sculpted blue dragon made of edible materials—which she presented with maternal pride worthy of a doting grandmother.
Darrien, Nella, Viggo—all were present. Even Malick, the eternally impassive one, wore a slight smile as he observed the organized chaos with a beer in hand.
And while everyone sang, laughed, and offered congratulations, Caleb had his eyes fixed on his mate.
Lya.
The majestic, formidable, regal Lya, currently seated at a table… surrounded by food.
“Did she just eat six slices of blueberry pie?” Caleb asked incredulously to Drake, who had just sat beside him.
Drake raised an eyebrow, observing the scene.
“Seven. You missed one while talking to Viggo.”
“That’s impossible. She hasn’t… she hasn’t slowed down.”
“Buddy,” Drake said, clapping him on the shoulder with a wide grin. “You married a pregnant dragoness. Be glad she’s not devouring the table too.”
Lya, meanwhile, licked her fingers without the slightest shame. She caught her mate’s gaze and raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence.
“What?” she said. “You think our baby will feed on love and fresh air?”
“No, no… you’re right,” Caleb stammered, both amused and fascinated. “But still, you just ate the equivalent of what I consume in three full meals.”
“And?” she said with all the audacity in the world, grabbing a roasted chicken leg without flinching. “Have you seen the size of my wings? You think they grow on chia seeds?”
Myrria, nearby, nearly choked with laughter.
Soraya watched the scene with a tender smile, while Lina giggled as she helped herself to a second muffin.
Loric, having heard his mother talk about food, ran back to her and climbed onto her lap.
“Mom, did you eat all the cake?”
Lya made a dramatic pout.
“Not all… there’s still the chocolate dragon ear. Do you want it?”
Loric squealed with joy, grabbed it, and bit into it with gusto, sprawling in her arms as if he had just won a trophy.
And while laughter erupted, dragons sang an ancient melody, and wolves danced under floating lanterns, Caleb looked at his family.
His pack. His life.
And for the first time in a long while, he didn’t think about that stupid Soren, conspiracies, or a hypothetical war.
Only this: A happy little boy, a ravenous wife, and a future already roaring with promise.
As the celebration reached its peak and Lya calmly devoured a third plate of grilled meats, Caleb found himself slightly isolated, cornered in a spot on the square. As if by magic, Bastien, Soraya, and Myrria surrounded him, each with a drink in hand, their eyes sparkling with mischievous complicity.
Caleb raised an eyebrow, wary.
“I’m surrounded by the medical team… that’s a bad sign, right?”
Bastien smiled, feigning innocence.
“We just wanted to… give you a heads-up. From friend to friend. From doctor to future father. Nothing serious.”
Myrria, calm as a priestess, placed a hand on his arm.
“You know that soon, she’ll feel your emotions, even the hidden ones. And you’ll feel hers. In stereo. Day. And. Night.”
“Even when you sleep,” added Soraya, dramatically. “Especially when you sleep.”
Caleb, stoic, simply nodded.
“I suspected as much. I’m ready.”
Bastien leaned forward, looking grave.
“But you also know that, in certain phases, pregnant dragonesses can… growl at their mate if he breathes too loudly?”
Soraya pretended to recall a terrible memory.
“Or throw a pillow at him. Or a chair. Even a small piece of furniture. But only out of love, of course.”
Caleb, slightly amused:
“I’ll survive the pillows. And the furniture.”
Myrria smiled.
“Oh, but that was the reasonable part. Want to hear the rare one?”
A dramatic silence fell.
Myrria, her voice calm and serious:
“There’s a documented case in the draconic archives… where the prenatal bond was so strong, the baby started projecting memories into the father's mind. Imagine—your own mother yelling at you on repeat… through your fetus.”
Caleb’s expression wavered slightly.
“… That’s not real, is it?”
Bastien shrugged, dead serious.
“We can neither confirm… nor deny.”
And just then, Drake, strolling by with a skewer in his mouth, froze mid-step at the last words.
“Wait… the baby projects what?”
Soraya, seizing the moment, turned toward him with a horrified look.
“Visions. Emotions. And sometimes… voices from the past. There was one case where the mother heard her ancestors speaking through the belly. The father started speaking an ancient language. For three days.”
Drake, skewer halfway to his mouth, went pale.
“Three days?!”
Myrria nodded solemnly.
“And on the fourth day, he started meowing. We never figured out why.”
Silence.
Drake’s eyes widened. He raised his arms and stepped back.
“This is a conspiracy! I refuse to go within three meters of Lya until that baby’s born. I’m done. I want an amulet. A rune. An anti-magic cage. Someone call a shaman!”
Caleb burst out laughing.
Soraya, in tears from laughing:
“Drake, you’re not even the father…”
“Exactly! That makes it even worse! I’m collateral damage just waiting to happen!”
And as the Beta flailed around, literally running after Malick yelling “save me with your legendary stoicism!”, the medical trio doubled over in laughter. Caleb, shaking with laughter, shot them a look full of mock betrayal:
“I swear I’ll get you all back for this.”
Myrria winked.
“We’re counting on it, Alpha. This is going to be legendary.”
Off in the distance, Lya, vaguely hearing Drake’s dramatic yells, wiped her mouth and murmured to Loric as she handed him a cookie:
“See, sweetheart? Adults can be a little scary sometimes. But they’re hilarious if you just let them be.”
As the sun began to sink behind the silver-tipped treetops of Sacred Moon, the party shifted to a softer note. Children were still running wild, dragons hummed an ancient melody under their breath, and the tables were slowly cleared of the last crumbs of cake.
Darrien, Caleb’s ever-loyal bodyguard, stood off to the side as always. He never spoke much, but his eyes tracked Elara’s every move—his adopted daughter—with that quiet vigilance he did so well.
Not far from him, Nella sat on a bench with her two young kids nestled against her, watching the celebration with a peaceful smile. She hadn’t come to be noticed. But every time her eyes met Darrien’s, there was a pause. A quiet spark. Something gentle.
And Elara? She didn’t miss a thing. Not a single thing.