Chapter 72: The Womb Formation

[The Throne Hall—Continuation]

"Did you love her?"

The question remained between them. Kael stared at Lytharion for a moment; he genuinely did not know what to say.

Did he love her? She was his fiancée, yes...but that was the past. He loves Lytharion now, and that is his present.

Lytharion’s arm remained wrapped around Kael’s waist, keeping him close. His fingers still circled Kael’s wrist, though his grip had loosened slightly; his golden eyes remained fixed upon Kael, waiting.

Kael slowly raised an eyebrow.

"Are you jealous?"

Lytharion’s expression didn’t change; for several heartbeats, he simply stared at him. Then his arm tightened around Kael’s waist, pulling him firmly against his chest.

"You’re mine, beloved." His voice was low, almost a growl. "I cannot stand seeing those beautiful eyes of yours looking at someone else with affection."

Kael stared into his golden eyes; there was possessiveness there, but beneath it was something deeper, something vulnerable.

Kael’s expression softened as he reached up, gently touching his cheek.

"She was someone who used to be in my life, Lytharion. You’re my present."

His eyes held Lytharion’s.

"And my future."

For a moment, Lytharion said nothing, then a slow, satisfied smirk curved across his lips.

"Good."

Before Kael could say another word, Lytharion leaned down and captured his lips. The kiss began softly, almost teasingly, but the moment Kael responded, the restraint in Lytharion seemed to disappear.

His arm tightened around Kael’s waist, drawing him closer as their lips met again, deeper this time, filled with all the jealousy and longing he had refused to put into words.

Kael’s fingers curled into the fabric of Lytharion’s clothes.

The world around them seemed to disappear; there was no past and no one else. Only the warmth between them and the silent promise carried in the kiss.

When they finally parted, their foreheads remained pressed together. Lytharion’s golden eyes searched Kael’s face; a faint smile touched his lips.

"Say it again."

Kael blinked. "What?"

His smirk deepened.

"That I’m your future."

Kael laughed softly. "You’re impossible."

Lytharion brushed his thumb across Kael’s cheek, then leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"And yet... I’m still the one destiny chooses for you."

Something warm stirred in Kael’s chest. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Lytharion, resting his cheek against him.

Lytharion immediately returned the embrace, his arms tightening around Kael as though he had no intention of letting him go for a while; neither of them spoke.

Then Lytharion lowered his head, his lips brushing lightly against Kael’s hair. "Then let us complete the womb formation tonight."

Kael slowly lifted his head, his cheeks warmed as he looked into Lytharion’s eyes. There was no jealousy in them anymore, only certainty.

Kael hesitated for a heartbeat before moving closer again, burying himself against Lytharion’s chest.

"Okay."

Lytharion’s arms tightened around him; a satisfied smile touched his lips as he held his beloved close, the ancient bond between them quietly waiting to be sealed.

***

[Imperial Palace — The Same Night — Emperor’s Chamber]

"This will be the final threshold, beloved," Lytharion said quietly. "It will hurt more deeply than the first one."

Kael frowned faintly, breath already slow and measured. "Why?"

Lytharion brushed his thumb along Kael’s wrist, grounding. "Because we are forcing a nature inside you," he replied. "The womb needs to form and has to accept the nature of your body. It does not need to be created—only settled. It will hurt, and it might feel like tearing you apart."

Kael gulped and nodded once. Understanding did not ease the weight gathering in his chest, but it steadied it, and then Lytharion drew him close, arms firm, certain.

"When it hurts," he murmured, lowering his brow to Kael’s, "hold onto me."

Kael blinked; he had intended to reach out. Instead, Lytharion was already holding him.

As though he were the one afraid. His arms wrapped tight, not possessive, but protective like a living cocoon of fur and warmth.

Kael let out a breath that was almost a laugh, faint and stunned, "I... will hold you, Lytharion."

Lytharion nodded, as if that was all he needed. "Good."

He pressed a reverent kiss to Kael’s forehead, saying, "Then I will begin."

Kael nodded, and then the chamber changed.

The torches dimmed, their flames drawing inward, the air thickened, not with heat, but with presence. Lytharion inhaled deeply, spine straightening, power rolling through him like an awakening beast.

From him bled his sandlewood pheromone. Dark, velvety, ancient, and a deity signal that spoke not to desire, but to structure, to bone and blood, and to memory older than language.

Kael stiffened; his body answered before his mind could.

The first wave struck like pressure, deep, internal, as though something unseen pressed from within, searching for alignment. Kael gasped, fingers clutching Lytharion’s robes.

"Hngh—"

"I have you," Lytharion said immediately, tightening his hold. "Breathe with me."

Kael tried, and the wave came sharper; pain bloomed—not cutting, not tearing—but compressing, as if time itself folded inward inside him. His knees buckled, caught instantly by Lytharion’s arm.

Kael cried out then, the sound torn from his chest before pride could stop it.

The pheromone deepened, and the Sandlewood Pheronmones did not rush...it settled.

Kael’s body trembled violently as the threshold took hold, his alpha frame resisting, then restructuring. The womb within him anchored, roots sinking deep, reinforced by something old and mercilessly precise.

It hurt.

His vision blurred, breath stuttering, every nerve screaming protest as the structure finalized—sealed, strengthened, made capable of holding life without breaking.

Lytharion pressed his forehead to Kael’s temple, voice steady even as his own body strained with control, "Do not fight it. Let it finish."

Kael sobbed once, sharp and breathless, then forced himself to still, but the pain peaked, then slowly, unbearably slowly—it receded.

The pheromone thinned, the pressure eased, and the air began to breathe again. Kael sagged fully into Lytharion’s hold, drenched in sweat, chest heaving, body aching in the deep, lingering way of something permanently changed.

Lytharion did not release him; he held Kael as though letting go might unmake him.

"Calm down, beloved," Lytharion murmured. "We haven’t even begun."

Kael swallowed, voice hoarse, "...Not even begun? But...it’s----"

"AAHHHHHHHH!!!!"

The effect was so instantaneous that Kael’s entire body jerked. His abdomen twisted so violently his breath fractured into shards.

"Hh—ah—!"

He collapsed on to Lytharion’s chest, fingers clawing blindly at his arms. Lytharion held him immediately, one arm locking across his stomach, grounding him like a stone pillar.

Kael’s breath scattered—messy, broken.

"Hah—hff—hah—This—"

His voice dissolved as his insides squeezed brutally, like invisible hands wrenching his organs in new directions. His vision blurred at the edges, his spine bowed, and his thighs trembled uncontrollably.

He felt like someone was twisting his inner parts... breaking them apart... arranging them anew... forcing me into a form he was never meant to bear.

Tears slid down his temples without permission, and his nails scraped down Lytharion’s arms. His legs curled inward, trembling violently. Lytharion tightened both arms around him, pulling him flush to his chest, encasing him like a shield.

"Lean upon me, my beloved..." Lytharion whispered, but Kael’s world flickered, his bones felt like molten sand, and his abdomen felt like fire bending its will through him.

Like a womb was being carved into existence by divine force rather than nature. His breaths came in broken sobs, "Hah—Lytharion—it—hurts—it hurts so much...."

His words tore under the pressure.

Lytharion pressed his lips to Kael’s hair and whispered, "I know, my beloved. This pain is the forging of destiny; it’s rearranging your body."

His voice trembled just slightly, a crack no one but Kael would ever hear. His hand slid to cover Kael’s abdomen, palm warm and steady over the twisting agony beneath.

"You are becoming what no Alpha wolf has ever become..." Lytharion whispered against his ear.

Kael’s body arched as another merciless wave hit, sharp, molten, and unbearable.

"A-ah—!"

Tears fell freely now. Lytharion gathered him tighter, letting Kael claw at his arms, his shoulder, anything to anchor himself.

"Breathe, my heart. I have you; let the pain pass through, let me hold your weight."

Kael felt his lower abdomen twist, a deep, spiraling pressure, like a seal being carved into his very flesh, as he gasped, choking on breath.

Everything blurred: light, sound, and even Lytharion’s voice. All he knew was the overwhelming burn, the reshaping of his insides, and the wrenching metamorphosis.

Lytharion cupped his cheek and wiped his tears with the edge of his thumb. "My beloved...do not close your eyes."

Kael’s hand jerked upward, fingers trembling, desperate, and he clutched Lytharion’s robe in a tight, shaking grip, as if that single fistful of fabric were the only thing tethering him to the world.

His forehead pressed hard against Lytharion’s chest, seeking grounding, seeking warmth, seeking him.

As if his body, in its agony, knew where safety lived. Lytharion wrapped both arms around him. He held Kael through every trembling gasp, every strangled inhale, every savage twist of agony rippling through his abdomen like molten iron carving new chambers within.

Kael’s tears slid down his cheeks, hot and silent, soaking into Lytharion’s skin like falling stars.

He did not sob loudly; he simply broke in quiet, heartbreaking tremors, his body surrendering to the overwhelming force reshaping him.

Lytharion’s tighter arms are firm, unyielding, protective, and a living fortress against the threshold’s torment, and he was careful.

He did not touch Kael intimately. He kept his hands steady on his waist and back, strong, anchoring, and respectful.

Because he knew—

No intimate touch could ease this pain. No pleasure could distract a body being rewritten by fate. No warmth could drown the fire devouring him from within.

The womb formation is not something simply to say... It was rebirth. It was the moment an Alpha’s body accepted what it was never meant to carry, a destiny being carved in his body.

And the pain tore through Kael like the splitting of earth. His breathing hitched—once, twice—a broken sound escaping his throat

"Hh—ah—..."

His hands slipped, his grip loosened on Lytharion’s robe, and his lashes fluttered—heavy, trembling, losing the battle.

"Beloved...?" Lytharion whispered sharply, tightening his hold, but the next wave did not come; Kael’s entire body gave out.

The tension in his limbs dissolved, his fingers uncurled from the robe, and his head fell weightlessly against Lytharion’s shoulder, and Kael collapsed.

His body slumped fully into Lytharion’s arms, the last of his silent tears still wet upon his cheeks, his face peaceful only because consciousness had abandoned him at last.

Lytharion caught him instantly; his one hand slid to cradle the back of Kael’s head, the other supported his trembling waist, as if the world might break him further if he wasn’t held carefully enough.

Kael’s face pressed into Zeramet’s chest, soft, unconscious, and fragile, as his breathing was shallow, faint, but steady.

He looked down at the unconscious mate in his arms, the man who carried impossible strength in a body still soft enough to cry.

Lytharion brushed a thumb over the tear track on Kael’s cheek.

"Sleep, my beloved," he murmured, his voice a low vow carved from the heart of the desert. "I shall hold your pain for you until dawn."

He drew Kael closer, closer than breath, closer than fate, cradling him as if he were the very moon fallen into his arms, and just like that, Kael...an Alpha, the emperor of Qashmar and the shadwo queen, was ready to bear the Lord of Darkness child.