She kisses me—soft, grateful, perfect. When she pulls back, her expression has shifted to something I can’t quite read. Nervous? Excited? Both?
“Good,” she says. “Because there’s something I need to tell you.”
ZARA
This is terrifying. More terrifying than facing Caspian. More terrifying than the merger. More terrifying than anything I’ve done in six months of being a symbol and an ambassador and a bridge between peoples.
Because this is personal. This is us. This is the future arriving faster than I expected and demanding I be ready for it.
“I’m pregnant,” I say.
The words hang in the air. Simple. Final. World-changing.
Torin stares at me. Through the bond, I feel his emotions cascade—shock, joy, fear, wonder, all crashing together too fast to separate.
“Pregnant,” he repeats. Like he’s testing the word. Making sure it’s real.
“Two months along. Maybe three. Hard to tell exactly because—” I gesture vaguely at my transformed body. “—the doctors aren’t sure how bonded pairs work reproductively. Apparently we’re the first case they’ve studied where both partners survived the transformation.”
TORIN
A child. Our child. First offspring of a bonded Sky/Water pair. Unprecedented. Impossible. Perfect.
“Are you—” I stop. Start again. “How do you feel?”
“Terrified,” she admits. “Excited. Completely overwhelmed. We don’t know what this means. Whether the child will be more Deep Runner or Storm Eagle. Whether they’ll have both magics or something entirely new. Whether?—”
I kiss her. Stop the spiral of worry with affection. When I pull back, I’m smiling so wide my face hurts.
“We’ll figure it out,” I tell her. “Just like we figured out everything else. One day at a time. One challenge at a time. One act of love at a time.”
“You’re really okay with this?” Her voice is small. Vulnerable in ways she rarely lets herself be.
“Okay with it?” I pull her close. “Zara, this is—this is everything. A child who embodies both our peoples. Who proves that integration creates life, not death. Who’ll grow up in a world we’re building to be better than the one we inherited. How could I not be thrilled?”
ZARA
His joy floods the bond, washing away my fears. Not all of them—I’m still terrified of being a mother, of raising a child who’s unprecedented, of the responsibility this represents. But Torin’s certainty helps. His absolute conviction that we can handle this helps.
Because he’s right. We’ve handled everything else. Survived impossible odds. Transformed our very beings. Stopped genocide. Built peace from the ashes of near-war.
We can handle a baby.
Probably.
“Names?” I ask, letting myself imagine it. Letting the fear transform into excitement.
“If it’s a girl, maybe Mira?” His voice catches slightly. “I think my sister would like that. Knowing she inspired all this.”
“Mira.” I test it. Nod. “And if it’s a boy?”
“No idea. You?”
“We could combine traditions. Deep Runner names usually reference water. Storm Eagle names reference sky or weather. Maybe something that embodies both?”
“River?” he suggests. “Rivers connect sky and water.”
“Storm?” I counter. “We’ve been called the storm since the beginning.”
