Chapter 35 Seris
SERIS
The world has narrowed to fire and pressure, my body no longer my own but something wild and primal that demands everything I have left to give.
The pain crashes over me in waves that leave no room for thought, no space for anything but the desperate need to survive each contraction as it tears through me.
"Breathe with me." Kaela's voice cuts through the haze, steady and sure. Her hands rest on my knees, warm and calloused like someone who's done this before. "In through your nose, out through your mouth. That's it."
I try to follow her rhythm, but another contraction builds like a storm surge, and I can't do anything but scream as it crests. My back arches off the furs with muscles I didn’t even know I had clenching until I think I might snap in half.
"Good," Kaela says, as if my animal sounds of agony are somehow exactly what she wants to hear. "That's your body working. Don't fight it."
A second human woman appears beside me—when did she arrive? Her face is kind but unfamiliar, hair escaping from a practical braid. She takes my left hand in both of hers, her grip firm enough to anchor me.
"You're doing beautifully," she murmurs, squeezing my fingers as another wave builds. "I'm Brittany. I've got you."
On my other side, Vargath kneels like a statue carved from stone, his face drained of all color except for the stark contrast of his dark eyes. When I reach for him, my hand finds his immediately, and I crush his fingers with everything I have as the pain peaks again.
He doesn't flinch. Doesn't pull away. Just lets me use him as my anchor while his free hand hovers over my shoulder like he wants to touch me but doesn't know if he should.
"I need to push," I gasp between contractions, the urge so overwhelming it drowns out everything else. "I need to—"
"Not yet." Kaela's voice is firm but gentle. "Pant for me instead. Short breaths. The baby's almost ready, but not quite."
"I can't—" The next contraction hits before I can finish, and I bear down instinctively, my body making the choice for me.
Vargath's hand tightens around mine, his knuckles white where I'm grinding his bones together. "You can," he says roughly, leaning closer until his breath warms my ear. "You're the strongest person I know."
"Liar," I manage through gritted teeth, but the words carry no heat.
Kaela shifts between my legs, her expression focused as she examines me. "All right, on the next contraction, I want you to push. Really push this time. The head's crowning."
The pressure builds again, different this time—lower, more intense, like my body is trying to turn itself inside out. I grip both hands holding mine and push with everything I have, a sound tearing from my throat that doesn't seem human.
"Perfect!" Kaela's voice carries excitement now. "I can see the head. Dark hair, just like yours."
Tears stream down my face, though whether from pain or relief, I can't tell. Mira wipes my forehead with a damp cloth that feels like heaven against my burning skin.
Outside the cave, the rhythmic scrape of boots on stone tells me the orcs maintain their watch, weapons ready against whatever might emerge from the wilderness. Their low voices carry on the wind—protective, vigilant, foreign words that somehow sound like prayers.
The pressure builds again, different from before. Final. My body knows what it needs to do even as my mind fractures with exhaustion.
"One more." Kaela's voice cuts through the chaos. "You've got this."
I don't have anything left. My muscles shake with fatigue, my throat raw from screaming, my hands cramped from gripping Vargath and Brittany like lifelines. But something deeper than strength takes over—something primal and ancient that doesn't care about my limitations.
I scream and push with everything I have left, every fiber of my being focused on this single, impossible task. The world narrows to fire and pressure and the desperate need to bring this life into existence.
And then—
A cry. Sharp. Alive. Furious.
The sound hits me like a physical blow, so perfect and real that I sob before I can stop myself. My body goes limp against the furs, every muscle releasing at once as relief floods through me.
"There we go." Kaela's voice carries pure joy as she lifts something small and red and writhing. "Look at him. Look at your son."
She places him against my chest, this tiny, slippery creature who's been living inside me for months, and suddenly he's real.
His skin is dark like mine but with Vargath's olive undertones, and he's covered in blood and vernix and absolutely perfect.
His cries fill the cave, demanding and alive, and I can't stop laughing through my tears.
"Hello, little one," I whisper, my voice breaking. "Hello, my brave boy."
Vargath drops to his knees beside us like his strings have been cut. His hands hover over the baby, shaking so violently I can see the tremor from here. When he finally touches our son—just one finger against the tiny fist—his breath catches audibly.
"He's so small," he says roughly, wonder thick in his voice.
"He's perfect," I correct, shifting the baby slightly so Vargath can see his face better. "Look at his eyes."
Dark eyes, already focusing with that intense newborn stare that seems to see everything and nothing at once. He quiets at the sound of our voices, tiny mouth working as if he's trying to speak.
Vargath leans down slowly, his massive frame folding until his lips brush against my forehead.
The kiss is feather-light, reverent, like he's afraid I might shatter if he presses too hard.
When he pulls back, his dark eyes shine with something I've never seen before—pure, unguarded joy mixed with awe.
"You did it," he whispers, voice thick with emotion. "You were magnificent."
I laugh, the sound hearty and genuine despite my exhaustion. "Magnificent? I screamed loud enough to wake every predator within ten miles and probably crushed your hand to powder."
"You gave me a son." His gaze drops to the baby nestled against my chest, tiny fist curled around my finger. "I've seen warriors charge into battle against impossible odds, but what you just did..." He shakes his head, wonder clear in his expression.
"What I just did was survive something you couldn't even attempt." I shift the baby slightly, wincing as my body reminds me of everything it's just endured. "Let's see you push something the size of a melon through an opening the size of a grape."
Vargath chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest like distant thunder. "You're right. I'm man enough to admit I'd probably faint at the first contraction."
"Probably?" I raise an eyebrow, grinning despite my fatigue. "You went pale as winter snow just watching."
"Fair point." He reaches out tentatively, stroking one finger along the baby's downy hair. "I'd have been useless. Good thing you're tougher than any warrior I know."
The baby makes a soft sound, mouth working against my skin as he searches for food. Everything about him feels impossibly delicate—his paper-thin eyelids, the translucent quality of his fingernails, the way his tiny chest rises and falls with each breath.
"He's hungry," I murmur, adjusting my position carefully.
Vargath's arms come around both of us then, enveloping us in warmth and the familiar scent of leather and steel. His embrace is gentle but protective, like he's creating a fortress with his body alone.
"Rest now," he says softly, lips brushing against my temple. "Both of you. You've done enough for one lifetime."
I lean into his strength, feeling the last of my adrenaline drain away. The cave suddenly feels smaller, cozier, filled with the quiet sounds of our breathing and the baby's contented murmurs.