Chapter 135 : Ashes and Renewal

Chapter 135 : Ashes and Renewal

KAI’S POV

I stood at the window of the hospital room, watching the first light of dawn touch the treetops outside. Elias slept soundly in the bed behind me, our son tucked against his chest under a soft blue blanket. The sight still stole my breath every time I looked at them. My mate. My child. Two people I had somehow earned in a life I was only beginning to remember.

The past few days had been a strange mix of peace and quiet chaos. Memories came in fragments. A laugh in the garden. The weight of Elias’s hand in mine during a council meeting. The way his body felt under mine in the cabin by the lake. Each new piece hurt as it arrived, like my brain was stitching itself back together with barbed wire, but I welcomed the pain. It meant I was getting closer to the man I had been before the coma.

I turned away from the window and walked back to the bed. Elias stirred as I sat down carefully on the edge. His eyes opened, still heavy with sleep, and a small smile curved his lips when he saw me.

“You are awake early,” he murmured. His voice was hoarse from the surgery, but warm. “Could not sleep?”

I shook my head and reached out to brush a curl from his forehead. “Too many things in my head. Pieces keep coming back. Small ones mostly. But they feel important.”

Elias shifted slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at his incision. I immediately adjusted the pillows behind him, helping him sit up more comfortably. He let me, watching me with that patient, knowing look he had been giving me since I woke up.
“Tell me what you remembered this time,” he said softly.

I took his hand and threaded our fingers together. “I remembered the first time I really saw you. Not in school when I was being cruel. After. In the garden behind the castle. You were reading something and the wind caught your hair. I stood there like an idiot, staring, wondering why my chest felt so tight. I told myself it was anger. It was not.”

Elias’s eyes softened. “You used to watch me like that sometimes. Even when you pretended to hate me.”

I leaned down and kissed him gently, careful not to disturb our sleeping son. The kiss lingered. When I pulled back, the heat between us was familiar now, comfortable and growing stronger each day.

“I want to do right by you,” I said. “By both of you. I may not have all the memories yet, but I feel them coming. And I feel this.” I placed my free hand on his chest, right over his heart. “Whatever we had before, I want it again. Stronger.”

Elias covered my hand with his. “We are already building it. One day at a time.”
Our son woke with a small cry. I lifted him carefully, supporting his head the way the nurses had shown me. The tiny weight in my arms felt perfect. He quieted almost immediately when I held him against my chest, his little fist curling into my shirt.

“He knows you,” Elias said, watching us with soft eyes. “Even when you were unconscious, he would settle when I brought him close to you. Like he was waiting.”

I walked slowly around the room, rocking him gently. The movement felt natural. Right. “I keep thinking about my father. I remember pieces of him now. The way he used to look at me when he thought I was not watching. Like he was worried. Like he knew something bad was coming. He deserves a proper burial. We never finished it because of the attack.”

Elias nodded. “We can do it today. The pack has been waiting. They need closure too.”
I turned back to him. “Will you stand with me? Even if I do not remember everything about him yet?”

“Always,” Elias said without hesitation. “We do this together.”

The sacred hill had been cleaned as best as the pack could manage in the short time since the battle. Fresh flowers lined the path where blood had once stained the grass. The new pyre stood tall and proud, wrapped in ceremonial cloth and adorned with white ribbons. The entire pack had gathered. Warriors in formal armor. Families holding hands. Elders standing at the front with solemn faces.

I walked up the hill with Elias beside me. He moved slowly, still recovering from the surgery, one hand on his belly and the other gripping my arm for support. Our son slept peacefully in a carrier against my chest. Liora walked on my other side, her steps steady despite her own healing wounds.

The pyre waited at the summit. My father’s body had been prepared with honor. I stopped in front of it and placed my hand on the cloth covering his chest. A sharp flash of memory hit me. My father’s voice teaching me how to hold a sword. The pride in his eyes when I won my first real fight. The worry when he warned me about Claire.

“I remember you trying to protect me,” I said quietly, voice carrying across the gathered pack. “Even when I did not understand. You knew the dangers coming. You tried to keep me safe from them. I wish I had listened sooner.”

Elias stood close, his shoulder brushing mine. “He loved you. That much was always clear.”
I nodded and stepped back. The elders began the traditional rites. Drums beat low and steady. Voices rose in the old songs my father had loved. I stood tall between Elias and Liora, our son warm against my chest, and watched the flames take hold.

Smoke rose into the clear sky. The pack stood in silence as my father’s body was given back to the elements. I felt another memory surface, painful but clear. My father standing on this same hill years ago, telling me that a true Alpha protects his pack with more than strength. With heart. With wisdom. With love.
When the last song faded, I stepped forward again. “My father taught me that leadership is not about power. It is about the people we fight for. Today we honor him by continuing that fight. We mourn our losses. We protect what remains. And we do not break.”

Elias squeezed my hand. Our son stirred against my chest and made a small sound. I looked down at him and felt something settle deep in my bones. This was my family. My reason to keep fighting.

After the ceremony, we returned to the hospital slowly. Elias leaned on me more heavily on the way back, but he never complained. Once we were back in the room, I helped him settle into bed and placed our son in his arms. The baby latched on immediately, feeding with quiet determination.

I sat beside them, watching. “He is perfect,” I said. “I keep looking at him and wondering how we made something so small and strong at the same time.”

Elias smiled tiredly. “He gets the strength from you. The stubbornness too.”

I leaned in and kissed Elias’s temple, then our son’s soft head. “I remembered something else today. During the burial. My father once told me that the greatest legacy is not land or titles. It is the people we leave behind who carry our love forward. I think he would have loved this little one.”

Elias’s eyes glistened. “He would have. And he would have been proud of you. Of how you are stepping up even without all your memories.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon in quiet moments. I fed Elias when he was too tired to sit up fully. I changed our son’s clothes when he fussed. I held them both when Elias needed rest. Every small act felt like another piece of memory clicking into place. Not full pictures yet, but feelings. Warmth. Love. The certainty that this was where I belonged.

Later that evening, as the sun set and the room grew golden, Elias turned to me with a small, hopeful smile.
“Tell me one more thing you remembered today,” he said.

I thought for a moment. “I remembered the way you looked at me the night we first mated. Like you were scared but determined. Like I was worth the risk. I remember feeling the same way about you.”
Elias’s eyes filled with emotion. “You were. You still are.”

I kissed him then, slow and deep, careful of our son between us. The kiss held promises. Of memories still returning. Of nights still ahead. Of a future we would build together, piece by piece.

The pack waited outside. Enemies still plotted in the shadows. But in this room, with my mate and our child, I felt ready for whatever came next.

I had already lost enough time but now I would not lose any more.