Five years later
The slums were never quiet, but that night it was as silent as a graveyard.
The air clung thick to the skin, heavy with smoke, damp earth, and the lingering scent of things long broken. Narrow alleyways twisted like veins through the settlement, lined with leaning structures and dim lanterns flickered weakly through them.
Inside one of those crumbling homes, a woman gripped the edge of a wooden table as pain tore through her body.
Emma's breath came in sharp, uneven bursts.
"Kael…" she whispered, her voice trembling despite her effort to steady it.
Another wave of agony crashed over her, more violent than the last. Her fingers tightened against the wood, knuckles paling as she forced herself not to scream when she could still breathe through it.
Across the room, Kael stood frozen for only a second before he moved to her.
He had always been unnaturally quick. Even now, with the slow rot of defiance eating away at him from the inside, there was still something in him that moved faster than any human should. But tonight, there was hesitation beneath it---fear; but it was not for himself.
He reached her side, his hands hovering before finally settling gently on her arms.
"It's starting," he said quietly. The pain written across her face made it clear.
Emma let out a strained laugh that dissolved into a sharp gasp. "You think?"
He almost smiled, but it didn't last. His gaze softened instead, searching her face and memorizing every detail like she night disappear any moment.
"We still have time," he murmured to her.
Emma shook her head faintly, breath hitching again. "No… not much."
Silence stretched between them for a moment, broken only by her uneven breathing and the distant, restless murmur of the slums beyond their walls.
Then, softer, she said, "Do you ever regret it?"
Kael stiffened at the question. "Regret what?" he asked her.
"Choosing me." she replied.
The question lingered heavy in the atmosphere than she intended, but she did not take it back.
Kael stepped closer, his hand sliding from her shoulder to her cheek, his touch warm.
"I regret many things," he said softly, "but you are not one of them."
Emma swallowed, her eyes stinging slightly with tears but she refused to let them fall.
"You're rotting because of me," she said.
The words came out sharp.
Kael exhaled slowly. "Yes, i know but when you're with me I do not fill the pain" he said with a small sad smile.
The mark of his disobedience was already taking hold. A slow decay that crept beneath his skin, weakening him from within because he had refused an order.
He had been told to kill the witch but he did not because she was pure. And now, he was paying for it dearly with his life.
Emma's hand tightened slightly against her stomach. "You could have lived if you had killed me," she whispered.
Kael shook his head gently.
"That wouldn't have been living. If I had obeyed their orders and killed you because you used your spells on a sick human child, then I would be living my life in guilt and pains." He said.
Then, their eyes met and for a moment, the world outside disappeared-- no guards or laws.
It was just two people who had chosen something dangerous and beautiful and completely forbidden.
Emma searched his face for any signs of lie which she could not find.
"They will kill you for it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "They are already trying to."
His expression changed into something dark and knowing.
"They've been trying since the moment I chose not to kill you," he said to her.
Another wave of pain seized her, this one stronger, stealing her breath entirely. This time, she cried out, her body folding inward as the force of it ripped through her.
Kael tightened his grip on her hands. "Breathe, Emma. Stay with me. Just breathe."
She tried to endure the pains. Gods, she tried to take in the pains but the pain was relentless, rising and crashing like a storm with no mercy.
When it eased, just slightly, she sagged against the table, her strength already fraying at the edges.
"We won't always live like this," she whispered suddenly. "In hiding and fear."
Kael's chest tightened.
"We'll find somewhere," she continued, her voice gaining a faint, stubborn strength. "Somewhere far. Where no one knows us. Where our child can grow without—"
Her words broke off as another contraction hit, sharper than before.
Kael closed his eyes briefly, as if willing the pain away from her.
"Our child will be safe," he said firmly, "I swear it."
Emma looked at him then—really looked at him—and in her eyes was hope that looked fragile, reckless and dangerous.
"I believe you," she said.
And that—more than anything—terrified hell out of him.
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The first scream came not long after.
It tore through the small house, raw and unrestrained, shattering the quiet of the night.
The people (witches) of the slums hearing the screams of labor knew it was Emma because she was the only pregnant one living around them.
Immediately, they took action.
Doors were flagged open. Feet shuffled quickly against dirt paths and voices rose in alarm.
Within minutes, the narrow space was no longer empty. The women witches were approaching.
They entered Emma's house without hesitation, their movements quick despite the absence of magic.
If it was before, they would have used spells to ease delivery and labor pains but due to the ban of magic and spells, they now used their hands
"We're here," one of them said gently, moving to Emma's side.
Another witch fetched cloths while another boiled water.
Only effort. Only care.
Emma barely registered them at first, lost in the relentless rhythm of pain and breath and breaking.
Kael stepped back, but not far.
He stayed close enough to hear every strained breath, every cry she tried and failed to suppress.
"You're doing well," one of the midwives murmured, though Emma felt anything but.
Her world had narrowed to three sensations repeatedly----pain, heat and pressure.
With the labor pains dealing with her, time lost meaning to her.
-----------------
Minutes stretched and then the air changed.
It was subtle and unnoticeable at first.
Then, the other witches helping Emma with her delivery noticed but Emma did not.
One of the women paused, her hands hovering mid-motion.
"Do you feel that?" she whispered.
Another frowned. "Feel what?"
"My magic…" the first woman said slowly. "It's… fading."
A ripple of unease spread through the room.
One by one, they became aware of it----that their magic was fading quietly.
Panic flickered in their eyes as they were losing their magic but they quickly suppressed the pains.
"Focus," the eldest among them said firmly. "The child comes first."
But even she could not ignore the way the air changed and how something unseen passed through it.
Outside the house, the sky darkened but in a strange way because they were no dark clouds.
The moon began to shift. Its light dimmed and turned until its color changed completely from pale yellow to dark brown.
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In the outskirts of the witch regions, far from the slums, two women stood beneath that changing sky.
Isolde felt it first. Her breath caught as the magic within her weakened, slipping like sand through her grasp.
Maria staggered slightly beside her. "What is happening?"
Isolde did not answer immediately. Her eyes went immediately to the changing sky and were fixed on the moon.
She began to take in its unnatural color and the strange atmosphere surrounding it.
And then, with a trembling voice filled with slight fear.
"The prophecy…" she whispered. Maria turned to her sharply. "No."
Isolde kept her eyes fixed steadily on the moon, never looking away.
"It lives. The prophecy lives," she said in hushed tones to Maria. "The child of redemption has been born."
They looked at each other for a while with understanding and certainty in their gazes.
And then, they ran.
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Far beyond the witches, within the cold, towering halls of power, the vampires felt it too.
Their strength weaken and their speed dulled too.
Their minds grew foggy as if a heavy blanket had been thrown over them. Soon, they all felt uneasy.
And at its center stood a man, the Luminai accord leader, lord Malrick Viremot.
He stood still as the reports came in, his expression unreadable as he listened to the same words repeated in different forms.
("The people are feeling weak." "They say they feel an anomaly in their strengths and speed.")
His fingers curled slightly at his side. Then, a specific memory returned to him, and suddenly the strange weight in the air and the reports of weakness and change started to make sense.
His eyes darkened. "So," he murmured, "The prophecy lives."
He turned slowly, his gaze sharp, decisive then he gave commands to the soldiers.
"Find the child born today and kill it. If it isn't found, kill any child who is aged nine months and below ."
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Back in the slums, Emma loud screams echoed again.
Next, a loud and shrilling cry of a baby was heard.
Emma collapsed back, her body trembling, her strength spent.
"Your child," one of the witches said softly.
They placed her in Emma's arms.
For a moment, everything else disappeared as she looked at her child.
Emma looked down, tears slipping freely now.
"Hazel," she whispered. "As in the tree that grows where others cannot," she murmured weakly. "Rooted… enduring… carrying life even in barren soil."
Her fingers brushed the child's cheek. "My Hazel." she said.
Around them, the air trembled again.
And one of the midwives, watching closely, felt a chill run through her.
"This child…" she whispered.
"…is something else."
Outside, fast and footsteps of well trained soldiers approached with urgency.