Chapter 185

I woke to the sound of weeping.

It took me a moment to understand that the sound was my own, a soft, broken noise escaping my lips before I was even fully conscious. My body felt as though it had been torn apart and poorly stitched back together, every nerve ending screaming in protest as I tried to shift beneath the soft blankets covering me.

"Krys?"

The voice was Ravin’s, rough and urgent and thick with an emotion I had never heard from him before. I forced my eyes open, blinking against the harsh sunlight streaming through the window, and found myself staring up at the woven ceiling of our home. Not the lagoon. Not the water. Land.

"How long?" I croaked, my throat dry as sand, my voice barely recognizable as my own.

"Three days," Leon said, and I turned my head to find him on my other side, his black eyes rimmed with red, his face haggard with exhaustion. He looked as though he had not slept in all that time, as though he had not moved from my side. "You’ve been unconscious for three days."

Three days.

I tried to sit up, and the movement sent a bolt of pain through my lower body so intense that I gasped, my hand flying to my abdomen. The memories flooded back then the water, the pain, the three perfect daughters, and then... nothing. Darkness.

"The babies," I choked out, panic surging through me. "Caelion, the babies—"

"They’re safe," Ravin said quickly, his hand finding mine, his grip tight and reassuring. "They’re with Caelion. He’s been... he’s been beside himself, Krys. He wouldn’t leave them. He couldn’t."

I didn’t understand. I looked between them, confusion clouding my mind. "What do you mean?"

Ravin exchanged a glance with Leon, something passing between them that made my chest tighten with anxiety. I tried to sit up, and the room spun, my vision blurring at the edges. I pressed a hand to my forehead, trying to clear the fog that seemed to fill my skull.

"The Mer babies," Leon said gently, his voice careful, as though speaking too loudly might shatter me. "They have to stay underwater for the first year. They can’t survive on land until they learn to shift. Caelion... he couldn’t leave them to come to you. He’s been in the lagoon since you... since we brought you back."

A flush crept up Leon’s neck, his dark eyes avoiding mine. "And to feed them... while you were unconscious... Ravin and I took it upon ourselves to... to express the milk. For the newborns. So Caelion could bring it to them. So they could eat."

I stared at him, his words not quite connecting, not quite making sense. The intimacy of what he was saying, the vulnerability of it, made my face burn despite my confusion. I knew the babies had to stay in the water. I had known that since before they were born. But why would Caelion want to come to me? He knew he had to watch the girls. I was supposed to watch with him. We had planned this.

My brow furrowed, the effort of thinking making my head ache. "Brought me back?" I repeated, my voice sounding distant even to my own ears. "Back from where?"

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Ravin’s jaw tightened, and Leon looked away, his eyes suspiciously bright.

"Krys," Ravin said slowly, his voice thick. "You don’t remember?"

I searched my memory, grasping at fragments. The water. The pain. The three perfect daughters. And then... nothing. A vast, empty darkness where memory should have been.

"Remember what?" I whispered, fear beginning to creep through my confusion. "What happened? Where is Caelion? Why would he want to leave the girls? I don’t... I don’t understand."

The phrase hung in the air, heavy with meaning I couldn’t quite grasp. "What happened?" I asked, my voice small, vulnerable. "I don’t remember... after the third one, I don’t remember anything."

"You fainted," Ravin said, and his voice cracked. "You just... let go. Your body went limp, and you stopped breathing for a moment. We thought... gods, Krys, we thought we had lost you."

"We all panicked," Leon continued, his hand trembling as he brushed hair from my forehead. "Caelion was holding the babies, he couldn’t move, couldn’t help. Aureon ran to find the healer. He ran faster than I’ve ever seen him move. Ravin and I carried you here, to land, to the healer’s hut. The children... they were frantic. Levy wouldn’t stop crying. Niku and Sikai kept trying to get to the lagoon to find Caelion, Veylan and Eryx had to stop them. they wanted to see if the babies were safe. Atlas and the older boys... they just stood there, silent, terrified. Seeing you like that, we all didn’t know what to do."

My heart broke at the image, at the thought of my children suffering while I lay unconscious, unaware. "I didn’t mean to scare them," I whispered, tears spilling down my cheeks. "I didn’t mean..."

"We know," Ravin said softly. "They know."

I needed to see them. I needed to reassure them, to hold them, to tell them I was alright. But before I could demand it, the door opened and the healer entered; a woman of indeterminate age with kind eyes and weathered hands. She approached the bed, her expression gentle but serious.

"You’re awake," she said, relief evident in her voice. "That’s good. That’s very good."

"What happened to me?" I asked, my voice stronger now, though still rough. "Why did I faint?"

The healer sat on the edge of the bed, her hands folding in her lap. "Your body experienced a strain it was not prepared for," she said simply. "You have given birth before, yes? To the lion cubs? And your second pregnancy, to more lion cubs? Then your third, the cheetahs, and your most recent pregnancy, the fourth one was the serpents eggs, right?"

I nodded. There was no point in explaining that the cheetah cubs were not born from my body, that they were Rina’s children who had come to me through bloodshed, resulting in the death of their mother and father. The healer did not need to know the details of my family. She only needed to know that Zarek, Kaizen, and Tavren were my babies, just as much as the others, regardless of whose womb carried them.

"Those births were different," she explained. "Lion cubs, the cheetah cubs are born small. The size of your palm, yes? They grow quickly, but they come into the world tiny, manageable. The serpents are born as eggs after only a month of carrying them, in terms of pain...it is probably the most bearable to all of your pregnancies."

She paused, her eyes meeting mine with gentle gravity. "Mer children are different. They are born closer to their full size. Each of birth was half the length of your arm; larger, heavier, more demanding on your body. And you had three of them. very unprecedented I have to say."

"Most merfolk have one child," she continued. "Twins are rare, a blessing but difficult. Three..." she shook her head, wonder in her eyes. "Triplets are unheard of. Your body did something extraordinary, something it was never designed to do. It strained every muscle, every tendon, every fiber of your being. You fainted because your body needed to heal, needed to shut down to repair the damage."

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a tone that brooked no argument. "You must rest. Fully. Completely. No strenuous activity. And..." she paused, glancing at my mates with something like embarrassment. "No intimacy until you are fully healed. Your body needs time to recover, to close what has been opened. To rebuild what has been spent."

I nodded, understanding the wisdom even as I felt the urgency to move, to act, to be the mother my children needed. But the healer’s words were firm, and I knew she was right. I had pushed too far, given too much, and now I must pay the price in patience.

When she left, I turned to my mates. "I need to see them," I said. "The babies. And the children. I need them to know I’m alright."

"They’re waiting," Leon said softly. "They’ve been waiting for three days."

---

The journey to the lagoon was slow, painful, and humbling. I could not walk on my own; my legs shook, my body protested every movement. Ravin carried me for part of the way, his arms gentle, his steps careful. Leon walked beside us, his hand never leaving mine, as though he needed the contact to believe I was truly alive.

Everyone was waiting at the water’s edge.

The moment they saw me, they surged forward. Levy’s face was streaked with tears, Niku and Sikai trying to be brave but failing, their lower lips trembling. Atlas, Chase, Ryder, and Jasper stood slightly back, their teenage faces masks of relief so profound it looked like pain. Behind them, Tavren, Kaizen, and Zarek shifted restlessly from foot to foot, their cheetah energy barely contained. The serpent children; Syren, Vaelis, Rhyzar, and Kaelor, along with Seraya, Nyssara, and Elira; watched with wide, solemn eyes that spoke of worry they were too young to voice.

And among them stood the other fathers. Aureon, his golden eyes heavy with exhaustion. Soryn, his green hair uncharacteristically disheveled. Veylan, holding Niku close as though he needed the comfort. And Eryx, though isn’t my mate, was standing slightly apart but no less invested, his expression grave with concern.

"Mama," Levy sobbed, throwing herself at me the moment Ravin set me down on a soft cushion someone had placed on the sand. "Mama, you wouldn’t wake up. We thought... we thought..."

"I’m here," I whispered, gathering her close, ignoring the pain in my body to hold my daughter. "I’m here, my love. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I scared you."

"You can’t do that again," Niku said, his voice fierce despite his tears. "You can’t leave us like that. You have to stay. You promised."

"I promised," I agreed, reaching for him and Sikai, pulling them into the embrace. "And I’m here. I’m not going anywhere."

I looked up at my older sons, at the cheetah cubs, at the serpent children, and held out my hand. They came then, all of them, surrounding me with their love, their fear, their relief. I held them all, reassured them all, until the frantic beating of my heart began to slow.

"Mama," Levy sniffled, pulling back slightly, her eyes bright with hope. "Can we see them now? Can we see the babies?"

I looked at Caelion, who had emerged from the water, his Mer form shifting to human as he approached. He looked exhausted, wild, protective.

"No one has seen them yet," he said, his voice rough. "Not until you. Not until their mother. I couldn’t..."

I smiled, understanding his fierce protection, his devotion. "Then take me to them," I said softly. "Let me see our daughters. And then we will introduce them to their family."

He helped me into the water, his arms supporting me as the cool liquid enveloped my body. The magic of the bond allowed me to breathe, allowed me to see clearly in the depths as we descended, just the two of us. And there, in a bed of soft kelp atop a smooth, worn stone, lay my three daughters.

They were sleeping peacefully, their tiny chests rising and falling in perfect rhythm, their azure hair floating around them like silk in the current. Their tails; delicate, iridescent things, twitched occasionally in their sleep, as though they were dreaming of swimming.

"They’re perfect," I whispered, and I was weeping again, but this time with joy, with wonder, with a love so vast it felt infinite.

"Seraphyna," Caelion said softly, pointing to the first. "The eldest."

He moved his hand to the second. "Kalisseyani. The middle."

And finally, the smallest. "Irysindra. The youngest."

The sobs that tore through me were not of pain but of overwhelming, crushing love. They were real. They were alive. They were perfect.

Caelion wrapped his arms around me, holding me as I wept. "Thank you," he whispered. "The family I always wished for."

"The azure sovereign," he continued. "Because of this power... they may shift faster than a year. They could walk on land with you. Be in your arms everywhere."

I looked at my daughters. "I just want them healthy," I whispered. "Happy. Whole."

I looked up at Caelion. "I can’t wait to introduce them to everyone. To their brothers and sisters."

He smiled. "Then once they wake, we will."