Epilogue 2
Second Epilogue
ARLET
Thunder rolls through the rock like a heartbeat, deep and ancient, and every time it shudders, dust rains down from the ceiling. The chamber smells of metal and ash and the faint sweetness of Fuegorra light.
I didn’t even fucking know I could hear thunder in Enduvida, but this new damned Fuegorra has changed everything.
I’m on the birthing bed, drenched in sweat. My body is shaking. I am too tired, too raw. The pain builds again, sharp and unstoppable, dragging a cry out of me that echoes against the walls. My hands and knees dig into the cushions.
They say that movement helps
They lie.
“Breathe,” Vann says beside me, voice low and steady. “Just breathe, Firelocks. Like we practiced.”
He’s kneeling near my head, his hand locked around mine. His skin is slick with sweat, too, but his grip never wavers. He’s calm for me, though I can feel the tremor in him—see the flicker of fear every time my breath catches.
Mother Liana works silently between my knees, her voice a soft chant beneath the sound of thunder. Her prayers ripple like water through the room, steadying the chaos.
I’m honestly not sad I missed this part of life, Cursed One quips.
Can you not be so… you right now? I bite back.
Another contraction hits, and the pain rips me open again. I bite back a scream. “I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” Vann leans close until his forehead presses against mine. His breath is warm, his voice a promise. “You’ve survived gods and kings, Arlet. You can survive this.”
I choke on a laugh that turns into a sob. “What if she doesn’t breathe?”
She. I can hardly believe it, even now. Another girl. Another daughter for me and Vann. With her has come fear.
It’s the same fear that’s haunted me since I found out I was pregnant. The fear of loss, of an empty cradle, of watching another small heartbeat fade before it ever begins.
“She will,” he whispers. His thumb strokes my knuckles. “She’s as strong as her mother.”
Mother Liana’s voice cuts through, soft but firm. “It’s time, child. Push.”
“You can do this,” Estela says from the side. “The head is the hardest part. It will feel like you are on fire, but then, somehow, the pain fades. You will hear her cry soon.”
Ulla remains quiet and wipes a cloth over my forehead as I switch my position yet again. Anything to stop the incessant pressure.
“Push, my love. You have the strength,” Vann says, cutting through the rest of the world.
I do. I push until I think my bones might split apart, until the world narrows to nothing but pain and light and the sound of Vann’s voice calling my name.
And then—silence.
The world holds its breath.
For a heartbeat, I think the mountain itself has gone still. Then a sound breaks through the quiet.
A cry.
Thin and furious. Alive.
The noise tears a sob from my chest. My body goes slack as the weight of her is lifted from me, and then there’s warmth—wet, solid, real—being laid against my chest.
“Arlet, abre tus ojos. Ya llegó,” Vann says. “She’s beautiful.”
“She’s here,” Mother Liana murmurs, her voice breaking with joy. “Your daughter is here.”
“I can’t,” I say, ignoring Liana and speaking directly to my mate.
“You can.” He breathes in my ear. “We’re here. Your family is right here.”
I can’t stop crying. I press my trembling hand to her tiny back. And finally, I do.
Her skin is warm and soft, slick with birth and light. Her skin is a pale, purplish blue, and her tail curls around my finger.
Half-Enduar. Fully perfect.
Gods, she is so small.
When she opens her eyes, they glimmer silver blue, catching the light of the Fuegorra veins running through the stone.
“Vann,” I whisper. “Look at her.”
He’s already looking. His lips part, his face wet with tears I didn’t see him shed. “She’s perfect,” he says, voice cracking. “Gods, Arlet…she’s perfect.”
I can’t stop staring. Her little fingers curl around one of mine, just above where her tail makes contact. She is impossibly small, impossibly strong. She’s real. She’s breathing. She’s ours.
For once…the sadness that has haunted me for so long retreats. I feel it slide from my bones. It doesn’t leave, but it just…is.
“Violeta,” I whisper, the name spilling out of me before I can think. “Her name is Violeta. Something that begins like your name.” I look up at my mate. “Another flower.”
Vann’s breath catches. He says it again, reverently. “Violeta.”
Her tiny cry softens, and she nestles closer against my skin, soothed by the sound of his voice. The Fuegorra in the walls glows brighter, answering the rhythm of her heartbeat.
Mother Liana smiles through her tears. “Under the mountain, a new flame is born.”
Vann presses a kiss to my forehead, then to Violeta’s. “You did it,” he whispers.
I breathe. “We did.”
For a second, I cannot believe it. Cannot believe the lengths that my body was stretched to. Cannot believe how strong I am and how…good it feels to have done this.
The storm rumbles again above us, but this time, it feels different—like applause from the gods themselves.
I hold my daughter closer, her warmth melting the last of the fear from my bones. Her light hums softly against mine, a melody I’ve never heard before but somehow know by heart.
The song of life. Of us.
“Te amo,” I whisper down to my new daughter. So beautiful and slippery in my arms. And then I look up at Vann.
“I love you, also.”
A part of me almost expects him to use the silly phrase I have come to use so often.
Instead, he smiles.
“I love you both.”
The end… for now.
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Fear not! Our time in Enduvida is not finished. Liana and Castien’s book will be out later this year.