Sera's POV
Rain pounded my broken body.
I lay at the bottom of the cliff, unable to move. Every breath sent stabbing pain through my ribs. My left leg bent at a wrong angle. Blood from my face scars mixed with rainwater, turning the ground beneath me red.
But I was alive.
Somehow, impossibly, I was alive.
The fall should have killed me. Should have shattered every bone, crushed my skull, ended both me and my baby in an instant.
Instead, something inside me had pulsed. A surge of power I didn't understand had softened my landing just enough.
Not enough to prevent injury. But enough to survive.
My hand moved shakily to my stomach. "Please," I whispered through chattering teeth. "Please be okay."
A flutter answered. Weak but there.
The baby lived.
Relief flooded through me so intensely I started crying. Or maybe I was already crying. Everything hurt too much to tell.
Above me, thunder rumbled. Through the rain, I heard voices at the top of the cliff—guards checking to make sure I'd died.
"See anything?" Commander Drake's voice echoed down.
"Too dark, sir. But nobody survives that fall."
"Good. The rogues will finish her if she somehow lived. Problem solved."
Their laughter faded as they walked away.
Problem solved. That's all I was to them. A problem finally eliminated.
My hands curled into fists against the muddy ground. The scars on my face burned, but not from pain. From rage.
They thought I was dead. Marcus, Celeste, Vivienne, my own father—all of them celebrating while I lay broken at the bottom of a cliff.
They were wrong.
I wasn't dead. And somehow, some way, I'd make them regret what they'd done.
But first, I had to survive the night.
I rolled onto my side, biting back a scream as broken ribs shifted. My vision swam with pain, but I forced myself to focus.
Shelter. I needed shelter before I froze or bled out.
Using my good leg and one arm, I dragged myself forward. Every inch was agony. Rocks scraped my skin raw. My broken leg left a trail of blood behind me.
But I kept moving.
A dark opening appeared ahead—a cave carved into the cliff base. Small, barely visible through the rain, but it was there.
Shelter.
I crawled faster, ignoring the way my body screamed in protest. Rain made everything slippery. Twice I almost passed out from pain. But the thought of my baby kept me going.
I had to survive. For both of us.
The cave entrance was narrow, forcing me to squeeze through on my belly. Inside, darkness swallowed everything. It smelled like wet stone and animal musk—something had lived here once.
But it was empty now. And dry.
I collapsed just inside, gasping. My whole body shook uncontrollably. Shock, cold, blood loss—all of it crashing down at once.
"Not yet," I told myself. "Can't die yet."
I forced myself deeper into the cave, away from the entrance where predators might look. My hands touched rough walls, guiding me through the pitch black.
The cave opened into a small chamber. Not big, maybe twice my body length, but protected. Safe.
I curled into the tightest ball I could manage, protecting my stomach. The baby fluttered again.
"We're going to make it," I whispered. "I promise. We're going to survive this."
It was a lie. We both probably knew it.
But sometimes lies were all you had in the darkness.
Day Three
I woke to gray dawn light and crushing thirst.
My lips were cracked and bleeding. My tongue felt like leather. Every part of my body hurt, but the thirst was worse than any injury.
Water. I needed water or I'd die.
My broken leg had swollen to twice its normal size, the skin purple and black. When I tried to move it, white-hot pain shot through me.
Definitely broken. Probably infected.
But I couldn't stay in the cave. Not without water.
Using the cave wall for support, I pulled myself upright. The world tilted dangerously. I waited for my vision to clear, then hobbled toward the entrance.
Outside, the Outcast Lands stretched endlessly under a gray sky. Rocky terrain, dead trees, nothing green or alive anywhere.
This was where they sent wolves to die.
"Not me," I said out loud. My voice sounded strange. Hoarse. "Not my baby."
I limped away from the cave, using a fallen branch as a crutch. Every step sent agony through my leg, but I gritted my teeth and kept going.
There had to be water somewhere. Even wasteland needed water.
Hours passed. Or maybe minutes. Time blurred when every breath hurt.
But finally—finally—I heard it.
Running water.
I stumbled forward faster, nearly falling twice. A small stream trickled between rocks, barely more than a creek. But it was water.
I collapsed beside it, cupping the liquid in my shaking hands. It tasted like minerals and dirt and absolutely perfect.
I drank until my stomach hurt, then splashed water on my burning face scars. The cold sting made me gasp, but it washed away dried blood.
Food. I needed food next.
Near the stream, I found something growing—tiny purple berries on a scraggly bush. I didn't know if they were safe. Didn't know if they'd poison me.
But I was already dying slowly. What did it matter?
I ate three berries, then waited. If I got sick, at least I'd know not to eat more.
An hour passed. No sickness. No new pain beyond what I already felt.
I ate six more, then filled my mouth with them desperately. They were sour and bitter, but they were food.
The baby needed food.
Day Seven
I'd learned to survive.
Stay in the cave during the day when the worst predators hunted. Venture out at dawn to collect water in a hollowed rock I'd found. Eat berries, roots, anything that didn't make me sick.
Avoid open spaces. Never make noise. Stay alive.
My leg was healing wrong—crooked, painful, but usable. I could limp now instead of crawl. Small victories.
The scars on my face had stopped bleeding. They'd formed three raised silver lines that burned whenever I touched them.
Permanent marks. Proof of their betrayal.
But something strange was happening. Something that scared me more than rogues or starvation.
My stomach was growing too fast.
At seven weeks pregnant, I should barely show. But my belly had already swelled noticeably. I could feel the baby moving constantly now—strong kicks that seemed impossible for something so small.
And the power. That strange pulse that had saved me during the fall kept happening.
Sometimes my hands glowed faintly silver in the dark. Just for a second before fading.
Sometimes I felt energy crackling under my skin like lightning.
What was wrong with me? What was wrong with my baby?
"You're changing," I whispered to my reflection in the stream water. Three silver scars across a too-thin face. Haunted eyes. Belly too large for the timeline.
I looked like a stranger.
Maybe I was becoming one.
Day Fourteen
The rogues found me.
I'd been collecting berries near my usual spot when I heard the growls. Low, vicious, hungry.
Three wolves emerged from the dead trees. But they were wrong—eyes too wild, fur matted with filth, movements twitchy and aggressive.
Rogues. Wolves who'd lost their minds without pack bonds.
They circled me slowly, cutting off escape routes.
I backed against a large rock, one hand on my stomach. "Stay back," I warned. My voice shook. "Stay away from us."
The largest rogue—gray with scars across his muzzle—snarled. He could smell my fear. Smell my weakness.
They lunged.
I screamed, throwing my arms up—
Silver light exploded from my hands.
The rogues flew backward like they'd been hit by an invisible wall. They crashed into trees, yelping in pain and confusion.
I stared at my glowing hands in shock. The light faded slowly, leaving me trembling.
What just happened?
The rogues scrambled to their feet and ran, tails between their legs. Terrified.
Of me.
I collapsed against the rock, heart pounding. The power inside me pulsed once, then went quiet again.
This wasn't normal. None of this was normal.
But it had saved my life.
"Thank you," I whispered to my stomach. To my baby. To whatever power was awakening inside me.
I gathered my berries quickly and limped back to the cave, looking over my shoulder the whole way.
Something was changing. Growing stronger.
I just didn't know if that was good or terrifying.
Day Twenty-One
Three weeks in the Outcast Lands.
Three weeks of surviving on scraps and willpower.
Three weeks of my body healing wrong and my belly growing too fast.
I sat at my cave entrance, watching the sun set over the wasteland. My stomach was massive now—I looked six months pregnant instead of nine weeks.
The baby moved constantly, like it was running out of room. Sometimes I felt the power pulse through both of us, connecting us.
My hands didn't just glow anymore. Sometimes silver marks appeared on my arms—patterns like moonlight that faded after a few seconds.
I was changing into something. I just didn't know what.
A sound made me freeze.
Footsteps. Human footsteps, not wolf paws.
Someone was coming.
I grabbed my sharp rock—my only weapon—and pressed against the cave wall.
A woman appeared through the trees. Young, maybe late twenties, with dark hair and kind eyes. She wore rough rogue clothing but didn't smell dangerous.
She stopped when she saw me, hands raised peacefully. "I'm not here to hurt you."
"Stay back," I warned, holding up my rock.
"My name is Luna. I've been watching you survive for three weeks." She smiled sadly. "You're stronger than you look, Sera Ashwood."
My blood ran cold. "How do you know my name?"
"Everyone knows your name. The whole realm heard about your trial. About what they did to you."
Shame burned through me. "Then you know I'm a poisoner. That I—"
"I know you were framed," Luna interrupted firmly. "I know innocent people don't survive falls that should kill them. And I know—" her eyes dropped to my massive belly, "—that baby is something special."
"What do you want?"
"To help you. Teach you to survive here properly." Luna stepped closer slowly. "You won't last much longer alone. The pregnancy is draining you. And there are worse things than rogues in these lands."
I wanted to refuse. Wanted to tell her I didn't need help.
But my legs were shaking. My stomach was growling despite the berries I'd eaten. And my baby was growing so fast I could feel my body struggling to keep up.
"Why would you help me?" I whispered.
"Because I know what it's like to be exiled for something you didn't do. Because watching you fight this hard for your pup reminds me why I survive." Luna smiled. "And because you're going to need a friend when what's inside you fully awakens."
"What's awakening in me?"
Luna opened her mouth to answer—
A howl split the air.
Not one howl. Dozens. The sound echoed from every direction, surrounding us.
Rogues. A full pack of them.
And they were hunting.