Chapter 183

Time had become my enemy.

Not in the way of battles or bloodshed, but in the quiet, relentless manner of sand slipping through an hourglass; grain by grain, moment by moment, until suddenly you looked down and realized most of it had gone.

My four oldest sons had reached their second year.

In the counting of human years, they appeared sixteen, perhaps seventeen; tall and broad-shouldered, their golden hair thick and unruly, their bodies carrying the lean, coiled power of young lions approaching their prime. One more year. That was all that remained before they reached full adulthood, before the mating instincts would awaken in earnest, before they would begin looking at the world not as children seeking adventure, but as men seeking partners.

I watched them from the doorway of our home, my heart a heavy, tender thing in my chest. Atlas was showing Chase how to repair a fishing net, his hands deft and sure, his voice deep and steady. Ryder and Jasper wrestled nearby, their laughter booming across the sand, no longer the piping sounds of boys but the resonant tones of males who had found their place in the world.

They were beautiful. They were magnificent.

And they were leaving me, one heartbeat at a time.

I pressed my hand against the swell of my belly; huge now, tight and heavy with the Mer child within and tried not to think about it. Tried not to imagine the day when I would stand in this same doorway and watch them walk away toward futures I could not share. Tried not to feel the grief that came with every milestone, every inch they grew, every step they took away from the small, safe world I had built for them.

"Mama!"

I turned, the motion awkward with my advanced pregnancy, and found Levy running toward me across the sand. My second litter had reached their first year now, and Levy in her human form looked approximately twelve years old; on the tip of adolescence, her limbs long and coltish, her face sharpening into the kind of beauty that made my breath catch.

She was stunning. Unfairly, impossibly stunning.

Her hair, black as night, fell in thick waves down her back, catching the light like spun obsidian. Her eyes, those fierce, determined eyes, had settled into a deep, dark color that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it, fringed with lashes that would have made models from my old world weep with envy. She moved with the grace of her lion heritage already manifesting, confident and sure, her smile bright enough to blind.

"Look!" she called out, skidding to a stop before me, her hands outstretched. In her palms lay a collection of shells, perfectly formed, iridescent in the afternoon sun. "Theo found them for me. He said they match my eyes."

I smiled, though the expression felt bittersweet. "They’re beautiful, sweetheart."

"Aren’t they?" She beamed, tucking them into the pouch at her waist. "He’s going to find me more tomorrow. He says I’m going to have the best collection on the whole island."

"I’m sure you are," I said, reaching out to smooth a strand of hair from her face. She allowed the touch, leaning into it briefly before pulling away; old enough now to crave independence even as she still sought comfort.

Behind her, Niku and Sikai approached more slowly, their faces serious and strikingly handsome in the way of their father Leon. At ten months, they appeared perhaps a year older than Levy in human form, their builds slightly sturdier, their expressions more guarded. They had grown into their roles as protective older brothers with fierce dedication, rarely letting Levy out of their sight, constantly positioning themselves between her and any perceived threat.

Including, increasingly, Theo.

"She’s showing off again," Niku muttered as he reached me, his voice carrying the particular dryness that reminded me so much of Veylan.

"I am not!" Levy protested, whirling on him. "You’re just jealous because Theo didn’t find shells for you."

"Why would I want shells?" Sikai asked, his brow furrowing. "They’re just... shells."

"They’re beautiful shells," Levy corrected, her chin lifting. "And Theo has excellent taste."

Niku and Sikai exchanged glances; I saw identical expressions of long-suffering patience settle across their features.

"Where are the cheetahs?" I asked, looking past them toward the beach.

"Racing," Niku said, his lips twitching. "Again. Tavren says he’s faster than Kaizen now, but Kaizen says the only reason Tavren wins is because he cheats."

"And Zarek is judging," Sikai added. "Poorly. He’s taking bribes in the form of fish."

I laughed, the sound turning into a wince as a sharp pain lanced through my lower back. I pressed one hand against the wall for support, breathing through the discomfort.

"Mama?" Levy was at my side instantly, her earlier annoyance forgotten, her small hand finding mine. "Are you okay? Is it the baby?"

Managing a smile. "Yes, I’m fine. Just... uncomfortable."

The thirst had become relentless over the past few days; a deep, aching need for water that no amount of drinking could satisfy. The Mer child within me was ready, I knew. The lagoon called to me in my dreams, it’s cool waters promising relief from the heaviness, the pressure, the constant, grinding discomfort of carrying a child.

"Come inside," Levy said, her voice taking on the bossy tone she had inherited from me and refined into something approaching command. "You need to sit down. And drink water. Lots of water."

"I think she’s had enough water," Sikai observed quietly, but he moved to my other side, offering his arm for support.

I let them guide me into the house, these children who were growing too fast, who would soon be adults themselves, making their own choices, their own mistakes, their own families. The cycle repeating, endless and beautiful and heartbreaking.

Inside, the sound of delighted laughter drew my attention to the corner where Soryn sat with our youngest children. The memory of what had transpired only days ago still lingered in my mind, sharp and visceral, impossible to forget.

The shift had come upon the four boys suddenly, without warning, their bodies wracked with agony as bones stretched and reformed, as scales receded and limbs lengthened into something approximating human shape. I had held Syren through the worst of it, his screams piercing my heart as his spine arched and cracked, reconstructing itself into a new configuration. Vaelis had clung to Aureon, shaking uncontrollably, his silver eyes rolling back in his head as the transformation ripped through him. Rhyzar and Kaelor had shifted simultaneously, their cries harmonizing.

It had taken hours. Hours of pain I could not ease, of suffering I could only witness, until finally, exhausted and weeping, four small boys lay panting on the floor where serpent hatchlings had been, their bodies human in shape but their eyes still holding the ancient wisdom of their kind.

Now, eight months old and fully shifted, they were miniature Soryns. That was the only way to describe them.

They had his green silky hair, fine and soft as spider silk, and his eyes, those impossible, mesmerizing emerald eyes that gleams like jade depending on the light. Their cherubic faces held the ethereal beauty of the serpent folk, delicate and otherworldly, with the kind of bone structure that promised they would break hearts without even trying. They appeared perhaps five or six years old in human form, their limbs long and graceful, their movements careful as they still learned to navigate bodies that felt foreign and new.

The girls had shifted earlier, two months before their brothers now act like they have seniority over their brothers. Seraya, Nyssara, and Elira had taken to their human forms with the ease of creatures born to wear many shapes, and now they danced through the room with a confidence their brothers had not yet mastered.

And the girls... the girls were devastating.

They were quite simply the most beautiful children I had ever seen. Where their brothers had Soryn’s coloring, the girls had inherited something more, an almost luminous quality to their skin, a grace in their movements that seemed preternatural even at eight months. In their human forms, they appeared perhaps five or six years old, with long limbs and flowing blue green hair and smiles that could melt stone.

They were also, unfortunately, becoming aware of their effect on others.

"Papa, look!" Seraya twirled in a circle, her white dress fanning out around her like a flower blooming. "I’m dancing!"

"I see, little star," Soryn said, his voice soft with adoration. "Very graceful."

"Am I pretty, Papa?" she asked, tilting her head in a gesture that was pure coquetry.

"Very pretty sweetheart." Soryn told her.

But when she wasn’t looking, Soryn turned to me, his expression fierce. "We need to hide them," he said.

"We’ve been hiding them," Aureon pointed out from across the room, where he was attempting to repair a net with limited success.

"Hide them better," Soryn snapped. "Underground. In a cave. Somewhere no one can see them."

"Why are my girls so damn pretty?" I muttered, lowering myself onto a cushion with a groan. "It’s a curse."

"It’s genetics," Caelion said, appearing from the doorway with a cup of water for me. "Unfortunately for all of us."

All the children are growing. I rubbed my belly and this child here is coming soon too. So much thing is going on. I could barely wrap my head around it.

---

I woke to the sensation of drowning.

Not in water, but in heat, in pressure, in the overwhelming weight of my own body. I had drifted off only moments before, or so it seemed, my head resting against the woven cushion, my hand draped protectively over the massive curve of my belly. The afternoon sun had been warm, the sound of the children playing a gentle lullaby, and I had allowed myself to close my eyes, to rest, to steal just a few minutes of peace.

But something had changed while I slept. Something fundamental and urgent.

My eyes snapped open, and for a moment I could not remember where I was, could not process the signals my body was screaming at me. The air felt wrong, too thin, too dry, like breathing sand. My skin burned, tight and stretched over bones that felt as if they were shifting, rearranging themselves to accommodate the lives demanding entrance into the world.

I tried to sit up, and the movement sent a bolt of pain through my lower back so intense I cried out, the sound tearing from my throat before I could stop it.

Then the thirst hit, a desperate, animal need that surged through my body like a tidal wave. I had been sleeping, dreaming of cool water and gentle currents, when suddenly my skin felt too tight, too hot, the air too dry to breathe. I gasped, my hand flying to my belly, and felt the first true contraction ripple through me like a clap of thunder.

"Caelion," I choked out, and my voice sounded wrong, desperate, terrified.

He was at my side in an instant, his hands finding mine, his eyes scanning my face with dawning understanding. "The lagoon," he said, his voice sharp with command. "Now. We need to get her to the lagoon now."

The world dissolved into chaos. Leon shouted for the others. Ravin grabbed blankets. Aureon just got back from cooking the food for dinner. Veylan and Soryn appeared from nowhere, their faces grim. But I barely registered any of it. The pain was building, wave after wave, each one stronger than the last, each one stealing my breath and my reason. It was finally time. The Mer baby was coming.