The drive back to the Forbidden Wing was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence. The tension that had gripped my shoulders for weeks finally began to loosen.
We had won. The Council had knelt. Liam had been crushed. And my father... well, he was irrelevant now.
That night, Killian was gentler than usual. There was no desperate hunger, only a slow, worshipful reverence. He held me as if I were made of spun glass, his hands constantly resting on my stomach, communicating silently with the two lives growing inside.
"You did well today," he whispered into the dark as we lay tangled in the black silk sheets.
"I just sat there," I mumbled, sleep tugging at my eyelids.
"You sat there like a Queen," he corrected. "Go to sleep, Elena. You are safe."
I closed my eyes and drifted off, feeling the warmth of his body against my back.
But the peace didn't last.
The dream started with blood.
I was standing in a field of snow. White, endless snow. But it wasn't cold. The sky was a bleeding crimson red.
In front of me stood two cradles. One was made of gold, the other of black iron.
I walked toward them, my heart pounding in my chest. I looked into the golden cradle. A beautiful baby boy looked back at me, his eyes the same icy blue as Killian's. He cooed, reaching out a tiny hand. Light seemed to radiate from him.
I smiled. "My baby."
Then, a low growl came from the iron cradle.
I turned slowly. Inside lay another baby. Identical to the first, but... wrong. His skin was pale as death. And when he opened his eyes, they weren't blue.
They were red. Glowing, blood-red slits.
The red-eyed baby didn't coo. He bared his teeth—sharp, jagged fangs that no infant should have.
He reached out, not for me, but for his brother. Shadows poured from the iron cradle, wrapping around the golden one, suffocating the light.
"One to rule," a voice whispered from the sky. "And one to ruin."
"No!" I screamed, reaching out to stop the shadows. "Don't touch him!"
The red-eyed baby looked at me and laughed. It was a sound of pure malice.
"Elena! Elena, wake up!"
My eyes snapped open. I sat up, gasping for air, my body drenched in cold sweat.
"No! Stop!" I cried out, thrashing against the arms holding me.
"Shh, it's me. It's Killian."
The deep voice cut through the panic. I blinked, the red sky fading, replaced by the dim light of our bedroom. Killian was leaning over me, his face etched with concern.
"You were screaming," he said, brushing wet hair from my forehead. "Another nightmare?"
"It felt... real," I whispered, clutching his arm. "Killian, I saw them. The twins."
Killian went still. "What did you see?"
"I saw two cradles," I explained, my voice trembling. "One baby was light. He had your eyes. But the other... the other was in an iron cradle. He had red eyes. And fangs. He tried to... he tried to kill his brother."
I expected Killian to tell me it was just stress. Just a bad dream caused by the lemon tart incident.
But he didn't.
He pulled away slightly, sitting on the edge of the bed. His back was rigid. The air in the room grew heavy and cold.
"Red eyes," Killian repeated, his voice barely a whisper.
"Killian?" I touched his shoulder. "You're scaring me. What does it mean?"
He turned to look at me. The arrogance was gone. For the first time since I met him, the Alpha King looked... afraid.
"There is a legend," he began, his voice grave. "In the Royal Lycan history books. It hasn't happened in a thousand years, so everyone thought it was a myth."
"What legend?"
"The Legend of the Twin Moons," he said. "It says that when a Royal Lycan line produces twins, nature splits the soul in two."
He took a deep breath.
"One will be the Savior—pure Alpha energy, the perfect King. The other..."
He hesitated.
"The other will be the Destroyer. Born without a soul. Driven only by bloodlust and chaos. The Demon Wolf."
I covered my mouth with my hand. "No. That's just a story."
"The prophecy says the Destroyer will kill the Savior in the womb, or shortly after birth, to consume its power," Killian continued darkly. "That is why Royal twins are forbidden. In ancient times... if twins were detected..."
He stopped, unable to finish the sentence.
"They killed them," I whispered, finishing it for him. "Both of them."
Killian nodded.
"If the Council finds out about this dream... if they see even a hint of red in one of those babies' eyes..." Killian's jaw tightened. "They will demand we sacrifice the 'Demon' to save the 'Savior'."
"No one is touching my babies!" I fiercely protected my stomach with my hands. "Demon or not, he is my son!"
"I know," Killian said. He moved back to me, wrapping his arms around me tight, burying his face in my neck.
"I won't let them," he swore, his voice fierce. "Prophecy be damned. We will rewrite it. We will save them both."
"But how?" I asked, tears leaking from my eyes. "If one is destined to destroy the other..."
"Then we teach him not to," Killian said firmly. "We are his parents. We are stronger than fate."
He kissed me, but this time, there was desperation in it.
Outside, thunder rumbled, shaking the house. The storm had passed, but a new, darker storm was just beginning.
The war for the throne was over. The war against Destiny had just begun.