It happened one day without warning, the kind of day that had begun like any other but would end etched into my memory forever.
Levy was fussy.
Not the usual fussiness of a tired cub or one seeking attention. This was different, a desperate, keening cry that seemed to come from somewhere deep in her chest, raw and broken and utterly wrong. She writhed in my arms, her small paws batting at me with a frantic energy that spoke of distress I could not understand, her mouth open in a wail that shredded my nerves with every breath.
I tried to offer her my breast, the way I had done countless times before, but she turned her face away with a cry that sounded almost like rejection. She would not drink. Would not eat. Would not be comforted by the usual methods that had soothed her since birth.
Something was wrong with my baby.
Panic began as a flutter in my chest, a bird trapped behind my ribs, but it grew with every passing minute into something monstrous and consuming. I called my healing tide, that blue warmth that had mended wounds and cured sickness since I had first discovered it, and sent it flowing toward my daughter. It should have soothed her. Should have calmed whatever pain or discomfort plagued her.
Nothing happened.
The healing tide washed over her like water over stone, leaving no trace, making no change. Her cries continued unabated, and I felt the first true spike of terror lance through me.
Was there something going on that I could not see? I was not using the healing tide on myself; I was using it on my daughter. Was it because she was a carrier too? That strange inheritance we shared, the power that flowed in our blood; could it be interfering somehow? Rejecting the external magic because her own body was trying to generate something similar?
If that was the case, I would truly worry myself to death. A carrier child who could not be healed by conventional means, whose own power might be awakening too young, too uncontrolled. The possibilities spiraled through my mind, each one darker than the last.
But I could not ask anyone. There were no records of this. No elder to consult, no scroll to unroll, no wisdom passed down through generations about what happened when two carriers shared blood. I was walking blind through a forest I had not even known existed.
I had tried to find the voice from within me, that ancient presence that sometimes whispered guidance when I meditated. I had sat for hours in the days since Levy’s birth, seeking answers in the silence, reaching for that connection that had sustained me through so many trials.
Still not a sound from this so-called voice.
Because Levy was still very young, she did not know how to talk yet. She could not tell me where it hurt, what she needed, what terrifying transformation might be happening inside her small body. I could only guess, and my guesses were becoming increasingly desperate.
Her father was no help because he said she was not saying anything besides "it hurts" in their beast tongue. That was all she could manage, that single phrase repeated until her voice grew hoarse, until the words blurred into nothing but pained sounds that needed no translation.
I held my daughter, trying to coo her the best I could, but her crying was heartbreaking. My regal princess, my beautiful Levy with her dark hair and demanding nature, was definitely in distress. And I, her mother, the one who was supposed to protect her from all harm, could do nothing but hold her while she suffered.
My mates were alarmed as well. Instead of going to train, they could not concentrate. They were all very worried for their daughter, pacing the perimeter of our home like caged predators, exchanging glances heavy with fear they would not voice aloud. Leon was even worse, his dark eyes fixed on his daughter with a desperation that bordered on madness, his hands shaking where they rested at his sides.
But every time he tried to get close to Levy, she cried louder.
She only wanted my attention, my presence, my arms around her. It was as if she could not bear even the scent of anyone else, as if her body knew that something was happening that only I could understand, or perhaps that I was the only safe harbor in whatever storm raged within her.
The other cubs needed my attention too, the younger ones, her older brothers Niku and Sikai were hungry and confused by the chaos, their small whimpers adding to the cacophony of distress that filled our home. I had no choice but to give Levy to Leon, handing her over with a reluctance that felt like tearing off my own skin, so I could feed the others who were hungry.
Levy cried even louder, a sound of pure abandonment that echoed through the house, and my heart was breaking every minute I was away from her.
After feeding Niku and Sikai, I squeezed the rest of my milk to feed my one-year-old cubs. They still needed milk but could now eat other food too. And plus them being big was hard to breastfeed them, their bodies heavy and awkward against me, so I squeezed it into a bowl for them. They drank greedily, sensing the tension in the air but too young to understand its source.
"Sorry Levy," I called out, my voice thick with tears I refused to shed. "Mommy is almost done. Stay with daddy for a bit my sweet."
All I got back was more cry, more of that desperate, endless wailing that seemed to have no source and no cure.
She cried herself to sleep eventually, her small body finally surrendering to exhaustion when no comfort could be found. I sat and watched her, making sure I would be there when she woke, my eyes burning from lack of sleep and too much worry. After a two-hour nap, Levy was still asleep. She never slept this long during naps, was usually awake and demanding within the hour, ready to resume her reign over our household.
"Levy," I whispered, touching her cheek with trembling fingers. "Sweetie, wake up."
She just whimpered, a sound so small and broken it was worse than the crying had been. I should leave her, I told myself. She was at least breathing. Sleep was healing, perhaps, or perhaps her body was fighting something I could not see.
"Just let her sleep," Leon sighed in defeat, his voice rough with emotion. "I have never seen a cub cry so long. My poor princess."
The rest of the day was spent continuously trying to keep our eyes on Levy. Soryn and Caelion kept the older cubs at bay, their booming energy contained outside so as not to disturb the fragile peace of the sickroom. Aureon went to help them, his usual patience stretched thin but holding. Leon helped me with Niku and Sikai when I could not be in two places at once, his hands gentle with the brothers even as his eyes kept drifting to his daughter. Ravin helped me with cooking to make sure we had food throughout the day since I was swamped, preparing simple meals that we ate standing up or not at all.
Then something happened.
It began as a warmth against my palm where I rested it on Levy’s back, growing rapidly into heat that made me snatch my hand away in surprise. She began to glow, a soft blue light that emanated from beneath her skin as if her very bones had turned to starlight. The air in the room grew heavy, charged with something electric and ancient, and I stumbled back, reaching for Leon’s arm as the light intensified.
She transformed.
The light flared blindingly bright for one heartbeat, two, and then faded as quickly as it had come. Laying there now was a small baby girl in human form, her limbs relaxed against the furs, her chest rising and falling with peaceful breaths. She looked to be about one year old, maybe a little less, no longer the beast cub she had been but something else entirely.
Her beautiful black hair spread across the furs like spilled ink, and her pale skin seemed to glow with its own inner luminescence, creamy and perfect without blemish. Is this my Levy? This human child with the delicate features and the rosebud mouth?
All my mates came rushing in from the light that had been glowing, drawn by the energy that had pulsed through our home like a beacon. They looked shocked and in awe, their eyes wide as they stared at the transformation that had occurred before them.
"Levy?" I whispered, my voice cracking.
The baby girl’s eyes opened, and the prettiest dark eyes I had ever seen stared back at me. Deep as wells, rich as fertile earth, framed by lashes so long they cast shadows on her cherub cheeks. My baby girl was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, human or beast, a perfection of features that seemed almost otherworldly in their delicacy.
"Is that Levy?" Leon asked, his voice barely audible.
"What? How?" Ravin was confused, his brow furrowed as he tried to process what his eyes were telling him. "One-month-old cubs cannot shift yet. It is impossible. They do not gain that control until they’re six month."
"Is it because of her bloodline?" Caelion added, his voice thoughtful. "The carrier blood, of the Azure Sovereign, the blue bind... perhaps it accelerated her development in ways we do not understand."
They surrounded her, these six powerful men who had fathered children with me, who had fought and bled and nearly died for our family. And Levy smiled.
It was a small thing, that smile, just a curve of lips and a flash of gums, but it knocked all six mates backward as if struck by a physical blow. Even me, her mother, I felt the impact of that expression in my chest, a warmth that spread through me and drove out the fear and worry of the day in an instant.
"She is too pretty," Ravin said, his voice thick with wonder and something like fear.
"Let us not show her off," Soryn suggested, his serpent instincts for protection and secrecy rising to the fore. "Not when she looks like that. No way."
"I agree," Veylan said, his silver hair catching the light as he nodded. "We need to keep her away from other eyes, she is way too beautiful in this state. We must be cautious."
"She can pass as a mermaid she is so pretty," Caelion added, his voice dreamy. "That pale skin, that dark hair... she looks like she belongs in the deep waters with her looks and she’s not even part of that species."
"Wow... she is going to be the death of many men," Aureon smiled, but there was a shadow in his expression, a recognition of the danger that beauty could bring.
"Never," Leon exploded, his protective instincts flaring hot and immediate. "Not my daughter. I will kill them. Anyone who looks at her wrong, anyone who thinks they can claim her, I will tear them apart with my bare hands."
Levy called to me then, a small sound a babble, and tapped my breast with one small, perfect hand.
I smiled, feeling the rightness of the moment settle into my bones. The worry was not gone, would never truly be gone, but for now, my daughter was here, she was whole, and she was hungry.
"Well," I said, gathering her into my arms, feeling the new weight and shape of her, the strangeness of human limbs where beast fur had been. "My Levy is hungry. Let us feed her first and worry about the rest later."
She latched on with a contentment that made me want to weep with relief, her dark eyes closing as she drank, and for the first time that terrible day, everything felt like it might eventually be alright.
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter