Torn Between Destinies-Chapter 34 - Thirty Four

The pain came like a wave—sharp, sudden, and all-consuming.

I was in our room when it started. One moment, I was folding tiny clothes. The next, I was holding the bedpost, crying out as something inside me shifted.

Darius was there in seconds. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. He wrapped his arms around me and called for the healer.

I could barely breathe between the contractions.

"She’s coming," I whispered.

Darius’s eyes widened, but he nodded. "Then we’ll bring her into the world together."

The healers moved fast. They cleared the space, lit soft lanterns, and laid down clean blankets. Someone brought warm water. Another brought calming herbs, but I waved them away.

I wanted to feel it all.

The pain.

The weight.

The birth of my daughter.

---

It felt like forever.

Each contraction tore through me like fire. I gripped Darius’s hand so tight I thought I might break his fingers. He didn’t flinch. He stayed beside me, whispering words I could barely hear but still clung to.

"You’re strong."

"She’s almost here."

"You’ve got her. You’ve got this."

Tears streamed down my face, but I didn’t stop.

I pushed.

Again.

And again.

Until finally, the world shifted.

And then—she cried.

A sound unlike anything I’d ever heard. Wild. New. Alive.

The healer lifted her and placed her in my arms. She was warm and red and wrinkled, with a tuft of dark hair and a tiny growl in her breath.

My heart cracked wide open.

"She’s..." I choked on the word. "She’s perfect."

Darius leaned down beside me, staring at her with something I’d never seen in his eyes before—pure awe.

We sat there together, the three of us, as dawn broke across the sky.

The first light of morning spilled through the windows, soft and golden. It touched her skin like a blessing.

"She needs a name," Darius said, his voice low.

I looked down at her tiny fingers wrapped around my thumb.

A name.

One that carried meaning. One that promised something better.

I had thought of many names over the last few months, but none of them felt right—until now.

"Erya," I whispered. "Her name is Erya."

Darius blinked. "Erya?"

I nodded. "It means dawn in the old tongue. A new beginning."

He looked at me, then at her.

And he smiled.

"Erya," he said softly. "Our little dawn."

---

The news of her birth spread quickly.

The pack gathered outside our home, waiting. Not pushing. Just being there. A silent, protective wall of wolves. Watching. Hoping.

Darius stepped out first, holding our daughter wrapped in soft cloth.

"She’s here," he announced. "Her name is Erya. And she is our future."

Howls rose into the sky. One by one, wolves lifted their heads and sang to the morning.

Not for war.

Not for grief.

But for life.

---

Back inside, I held Erya to my chest. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment—deep and dark like her father’s. But her energy was mine. Fierce. Steady.

"She’s going to be wild," I said, brushing my nose against her soft forehead.

"She’s going to be everything," Darius replied. "A leader. A light."

I looked at him, tired but filled with peace.

"This changes everything, doesn’t it?"

He nodded. "But in the best way."

---

Later that evening, the Moon Priestess arrived.

She came with her long silver robes and staff carved from bone. Her presence made the room feel still, even with the baby in my arms.

"May I?" she asked, reaching gently for Erya.

I nodded and passed her over.

The priestess held her close and closed her eyes.

"She carries both of you in her blood," she said. "The strength of a Luna. The soul of an Alpha."

Then her gaze met mine.

"But more than that, she carries peace. The promise of healing. Of unity."

Tears welled in my eyes.

"I want to believe that," I whispered.

"You must," she said. "Because she will grow into what you build now. Lay the foundation with love, and she will lead with it."

Darius stepped forward.

"She will have everything we never did."

"She will," I agreed.

---

That night, I didn’t sleep.

I stayed awake, watching Erya breathe.

Each little rise and fall of her chest was a miracle.

All the pain, all the heartbreak—it had led to this.

To her.

She was worth it all.

---

Later, Darius curled beside me on the bed.

"She’s going to change everything," he said again.

I looked down at her, sleeping peacefully between us.

"She already has."

We lay there, quiet, for a long time.

And for once, the silence didn’t hurt.

It healed.

---

Erya slept peacefully in her cradle, her tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. Darius sat beside me on the edge of our bed, his hand gently holding mine.

"She’s so peaceful," he whispered, his eyes fixed on our daughter.

I nodded, my gaze also on Erya. "She doesn’t know the weight of the world yet."

Silence enveloped us, filled only by the soft rustling of leaves outside and the distant hoot of an owl.

"Luciana," Darius began, his voice hesitant, "do you ever think about... leaving?"

I turned to him, surprised. "Leaving the pack?"

He nodded slowly. "Sometimes, I feel like the shadows of our past linger too heavily here. The betrayals, the pain... it’s as if the walls remember."

I looked around our room, the place that had been our sanctuary and our prison. "I’ve thought about it too," I admitted. "Especially after Erya was born. I want her to grow up free from the burdens we’ve carried."

Darius squeezed my hand gently. "We’ve given everything to this pack. Our love, our strength, our sacrifices. But perhaps it’s time to think about ourselves, about our family."

I leaned my head on his shoulder, drawing comfort from his warmth. "Where would we go?"

He chuckled softly. "Anywhere. Somewhere the sun rises without the weight of yesterday. A place where Erya can laugh without echoes of past sorrows.

I smiled at the thought. "A fresh start."

"Yes," he said, turning to face me. "But it’s not a decision to make lightly. The pack relies on us."

I nodded, understanding the gravity of our roles. "We need to consider what’s best for everyone, but also what’s best for Erya."

Darius stood, walking over to Erya’s cradle. He looked down at her, his expression softening. "She deserves a life untainted by our past."

I joined him, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Then let’s think about it. Plan it carefully. For her."

He turned to me, his eyes filled with determination. "Together."

"Together," I echoed.

As the night deepened, we stood there, united in our thoughts and hopes. The future was uncertain, but with each other and our daughter, we felt ready to face whatever came next.

---

The moon hung low, a pale watcher in the dark sky, casting its light gently across Thornridge. I stood just beyond the gathering hall, my hands resting on the curve of my stomach where Erya had once kicked, reminding me of hope when everything else felt shattered. She was asleep now, in the arms of her father inside, but her warmth lingered in me. Just like the decision Darius and I had finally made.

We were leaving.

I heard footsteps behind me—soft, hesitant. Darius. I didn’t need to turn to know it. His scent, the rhythm of his breath, even the way the earth barely stirred beneath his careful steps. After everything, I still knew him better than anyone.

"They’re waiting," he said, voice quiet.

"I know."

"Are you ready?"

I drew in a deep breath. "As ready as I’ll ever be."

We had called for a full pack meeting tonight. No formalities. No rituals. Just truth. It was time.

The hall buzzed with murmurs when we stepped in. Dozens of wolves packed the room, some with their mates, others with their Betas or young ones pressed close. Eyes turned to us—curious, expectant, some still wary from the weeks of healing that had passed since Erya’s birth.

I stepped forward, my voice calm but loud enough to reach everyone.

"Thank you all for coming."

The room quieted. Even the pups stopped shifting.

"We’ve lived through battles together—outside and inside our own hearts. Some of us have nearly broken," I glanced briefly at Darius, "and some of us did."

"But we’ve also healed," he added, moving to stand beside me. "We’ve found light again. Even if it came slowly."

I nodded. "We have something important to tell you. And we wanted to say it directly. No whispers. No confusion."

A pause. I let the silence settle before I said it.

"We’re leaving Thornridge."

Gasps followed. One older warrior blinked like he hadn’t heard me right. A younger girl dropped the apple she’d been nibbling on.

"We don’t make this choice lightly," Darius continued, his face firm. "This land has been our home. My father’s, and his before him. But too much has happened here. Too much pain. Too many scars."

"We need peace," I added. "Not just for us. But for Erya. We want to raise her in a place without memories soaked in blood and betrayal."

A deep voice cut through the stillness.

"You’re abandoning us?"

It was Thorn, one of the older warriors who had always been loyal—but firm. His eyes burned with confusion more than anger.

"No," Darius said. "We’ve prepared this pack to stand strong, even without us. And we won’t leave you leaderless. A new Alpha will rise. One we believe in."

More murmurs now. Names were whispered. Questions filled the air. I felt the heat of their emotion rising like a tide.

"Who?" someone shouted.

Darius turned to his Beta, Kelan, who stood near the back—shock visible in his face. He hadn’t expected this either. But Darius had been watching him for months, quietly testing his loyalty and leadership.

"You, Kelan," Darius said. "If you’re willing."

Kelan looked like someone had punched the air from his lungs. "Me?"

"You’ve kept this pack steady when I couldn’t. You’ve handled disputes fairly. You have the pack’s respect. I trust you."

"I... I don’t know what to say."

"Say yes," I offered gently. "We believe in you."

Kelan’s eyes darted to the crowd. Dozens of wolves were now looking at him, waiting. And slowly, he nodded.

"I’ll do it. If the pack wants me."

They howled—not in protest, but in agreement.

Still, not everyone was calm.

"I don’t understand," muttered Lia, a she-wolf I’d once trained beside. "Why now? We’ve just started rebuilding."

I turned to her. "That’s exactly why. We’ve helped rebuild what we could. But Darius and I... we don’t belong in Thornridge anymore. Our hearts don’t rest here."

Another voice rang out. Softer this time. "Where will you go?"

"We don’t know yet," I admitted. "Somewhere quiet. Somewhere far from the echoes of war and grief."

And then another voice—one I hadn’t expected.

"I want to go with you."

It was Tahlia, a young warrior who had lost her mate last winter. Her eyes shimmered with something between sadness and longing.

I blinked. "What?"

"I want to come with you. I’ve felt out of place ever since Galen died. This pack reminds me of him. And the grief never stops."

Before I could answer, two more wolves stepped forward.

"We’ll come too," said Dara and Malen, twin brothers who had once served as border guards. "We don’t want power. Just peace."

I looked at Darius. His expression mirrored mine: surprise, then a quiet understanding. We hadn’t expected this. But maybe we should have. Others were hurting too. Others had been surviving, not living.

"You’re sure?" I asked them all.

Tahlia nodded. "We believe in you. In what you and Darius stand for. A new beginning." freēnovelkiss.com

I felt tears prick at my eyes. "Thank you. Truly."

"We’ll leave at dawn," Darius said, turning back to the pack. "Those who wish to stay, remain loyal to Kelan. He will lead you well. And we’ll always be allies."

As the meeting dissolved into quiet murmurs and goodbyes, I found myself stepping into the cool air again. My thoughts spun like leaves in wind. I had expected sorrow. I hadn’t expected others to follow.

Darius found me, slipping his hand into mine.

"Still sure?" he asked.

I nodded. "More than ever."

He smiled, but his eyes were tired. "We’ll need to prepare. Supplies. Transport."

"We’ll manage," I said. "We always do."

I felt a small body press against my leg. Kiani. She looked up at me, her tiny face determined.

"Are we really leaving?"

"Yes," I knelt down. "But you’re safe. That’s all that matters."

She smiled, and for the first time in a while, it reached her eyes.

Later that night, I walked into Erya’s room. She was sleeping peacefully, her small chest rising and falling in the soft moonlight. I brushed a strand of dark hair from her forehead.

"You don’t know it yet, but we’re doing this for you," I whispered. "For your future. So that you never grow up with war in your blood or bitterness in your bones."

Behind me, Darius leaned against the doorframe. He watched us silently, then said, "You always speak to her like she understands."

"Maybe she does."

He chuckled quietly. "We’re really doing this."

"We are."

"And the ones who follow?"

"They’re part of our new pack now," I said. "A family by choice."

We stood there in silence, watching our daughter sleep. The wind blew outside, a new kind of wind—one that didn’t sound like howls or rage. It sounded like change.

And this time, we were ready for it.