Eryon stirred awake in a dimly lit chamber, the air heavy with dampness and a faint metallic tang. His body felt weighted, each movement sluggish as if he were submerged in deep water. The stone walls around him loomed like silent sentinels, their coldness seeping into his skin. He blinked, his crimson-tinged vision adjusting to the gloom.
Nearby, Misery sat perched on a rickety chair, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. The sharp lines of her face softened when his eyes opened, her relief evident in the way her shoulders sagged. “You’re awake,” she said softly, her voice trembling as if she’d been holding her breath for hours.
Eryon groaned, rubbing his temples. His head throbbed with a dull ache, memories of the transformation and the chaos surrounding it flickering in his mind like fragments of a broken mirror. “What happened?” he murmured. “Where are we?”
Misery hesitated, her eyes darting to the shadows before returning to his face. “We’re safe,” she began carefully. “For now. Seraphine brought us here. She says it’s a sanctuary.”
He frowned, unease creeping into his tone. “Sanctuary? That doesn’t sound like her. What aren’t you telling me?”
Misery bit her lip, her hands twitching against the fabric of her dress. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, gathering her courage. Finally, she leaned forward, her voice low but steady. “Eryon… there’s something I need to tell you.”
The weight in her tone made his stomach tighten. He sat up straighter, his amber eyes narrowing as he studied her. “What is it?”
Misery took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she steadied herself. “I’m pregnant,” she said, her words slicing through the silence. “It’s yours.”
For a moment, the room felt like it had frozen in place. Eryon stared at her, his mind reeling as he tried to process her words. “What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice sharp with disbelief. “That’s impossible.”
“It’s not,” Misery said quickly, her hands moving to rest protectively over her stomach. “I didn’t think it could happen either, but it has. I went to the healer—she confirmed it.”
Eryon shook his head, standing abruptly. The sudden motion sent a wave of dizziness through him, but he ignored it, his thoughts spiraling. “No. That doesn’t make sense. A vampire and a werewolf? That doesn’t happen, Misery. It can’t.”
“It has happened,” she insisted, her voice growing firmer. “You know it’s true. You can feel it.”
He began to pace, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Do you have any idea what this means?” he snapped, his anger born of fear. “What they’ll do if they find out? Seraphine, Eira—they’ll use this against us. Against you.”
Misery stood as well, her gaze unwavering. “That’s why no one can know,” she said, her voice a mix of determination and vulnerability. “Not now. Not until we figure out what to do.”
Eryon stopped pacing, his eyes locked on hers. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked as though he might lash out, but the fire in his gaze dimmed. Instead, he sank back onto the edge of the cot, his head in his hands. “This changes everything,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.
Misery approached him cautiously, kneeling before him. Her hand reached out, hesitating before brushing against his knee. “I didn’t ask for this either, Eryon,” she said softly. “But it’s happening. And we have to protect this child—our child.”
He lifted his head, his amber eyes meeting hers. They flickered with a myriad of emotions—fear, doubt, guilt, and something else he couldn’t name. Finally, he nodded, his voice hoarse. “If what you’re saying is true… then we keep this to ourselves. No one else can know.”