Chapter 10 - Dawn Over the Bloodmoon
The morning sun broke over the northern mountains, painting the snow-capped peaks in brilliant shades of pink, gold, and diamond-white.
The fires in the courtyard had burned down to glowing embers, hissing softly as the morning frost settled over the stone. The Kale mercenaries had been driven back down the mountain, their banners trampled into the mud, leaving behind only a broken alliance and a humbled aristocracy that would never dare challenge the northern peaks again.
Inside the master bedchamber of the Bloodmoon Stronghold, the room was warm, filled with the soft crackle of a roaring hearth fire.
Revna lay resting against a pile of soft furs, her breathing steady and deep.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, holding her hand with a tenderness that defied his fierce reputation, was Fenrik. His clothes were clean, his wounds tended, and his golden eyes shone with a profound, quiet peace.
Without warning, a soft, high-pitched cry broke the silence of the room.
Fenrik’s head snapped up.
Midwife Martha, an elderly wolf-shaman who had served the pack through three generations, stepped forward from the shadows with a gentle smile, cradling two small, bundled bundles in her arms.
"They have your eyes, Alpha," Martha whispered warmly, her voice trembling slightly with emotion as she handed the small bundles down. "Both of them. Strong, healthy, and humming with pure golden fire."
Fenrik carefully took the infants, his massive, calloused hands trembling more than they had when facing an army of inquisitors. He looked down at the two tiny faces nestled against his chest—two little lives, safe, protected, and free.
He shifted slightly, making room on the bed, and gently laid the infants beside Revna.
Revna smiled, her exhaustion melting away as she wrapped her arms around both her children and the man who had fought through hell and madness to find his way back to her.
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Fenrik leaned down, pressing his forehead gently against hers, the mating bond between them glowing softly beneath their skin like a quiet, eternal hearth-light.
Outside, the great northern wind blew across the mountain, but inside the stronghold, the hearth was warm, the pack was whole, and the winter had finally given way to spring.
