The room was in full-blown chaos.

  Four pups wailed at once, their cries echoing off the walls like a storm of tiny, urgent alarms., Bleary-eyed and barely sitting upright, I reached instinctively toward the nearest bundle while Apolloh scrambled with a blanket that had somehow ended up tangled around one of the babies.

  “I’ve got her—no, wait, him—wait—” he squinted in the low light, his hair mussed and jaw tense from the sudden jolt awake.

  “That’s Riven,” I said through a yawn, my voice hoarse. “He always starts the chain reaction.”

  “I’m starting to think he’s doing it on purpose.”

  I let out a quiet laugh that ended in a sigh, cradling two hungry pups—Elara and Lyra—as they squirmed and rooted against me. Apolloh was already helping Liora latch on, while Riven kicked furiously, unimpressed by the wait.

  They moved on instinct now, exhaustion and love pulling them through the motions—warm skin, whispered reassurances, and the steady rhythm of breathing and baby noises filling the space.

  Eventually, one by one, the pups quieted again. Little sighs replaced cries. Arms wrapped around bodies. Cheeks pressed into shoulders. And as the den finally began to still, a soft darkness settled over them once more.

  ?

  Morning came gently.

  Sunlight crept in through the high windows, painting the floor in soft gold. The pups were nestled together in a loose cluster on the blankets, their tiny bellies round and full. Riven twitched in his sleep, a little paw stretching out blindly before curling again between Elara and Lyra.

  I stirred slowly, head resting against Apolloh’s chest, my hair draped across his shoulder. Neither of us moved at first, caught in that suspended moment where time didn’t quite matter. Just breathing. Just warmth. Just the quiet miracle of it all.

  Apolloh’s hand moved lazily up to brush her back, voice low and scratchy. “We survived the night.”

  I smiled without opening my eyes. “Barely.”

  A faint knock at the door made them both groan in unison.

  “Who wants to bet it’s Zia with more soup?” Apolloh muttered.

  I chuckled. “Or Jaxe pretending to check on us just so he can hold one of the babies.”

  The door creaked open just a sliver before either of them could answer.

  “We come bearing reinforcements,” Zia whispered dramatically, her voice still husky from sleep. She slipped through the door with a basket balanced on one hip, and Jaxe followed close behind, blinking at the light.

  “Told you they’d be up,” he muttered, already scanning the den for the nearest pup. His eyes landed on Riven, and his face softened instantly. “Hey, little troublemaker.”

  “You two are the ones who made him a troublemaker,” I said, smiling despite her exhaustion. “Don’t act surprised now.”

  Zia let out a soft laugh as she set the basket down near the edge of the blankets. The smell of fresh bread and something sweet wafted through the room, instantly grounding them all in the comfort of pack life.

  “Thought you might need a little something,” she said. “And Jaxe wouldn’t stop pacing this morning until I agreed we could come over early.”

  “I wasn’t pacing,” Jaxe mumbled, already kneeling to gently scoop up Liora. She stirred but didn’t wake, her tiny fingers curling into his shirt.

  Apolloh and I shared a glance over their peacefully sleeping daughters and son. For a moment, the night’s chaos faded behind the warmth of this new morning—family, safety, and the quiet joy of being surrounded by those who would carry them through it all.

  “I’m just warning you now,” Apolloh said, stretching, “if any of them wake up, they’re yours.”

  Zia grinned. “Oh, I dare them to. I came prepared.”

  From her basket, she pulled out a small bundle of knitted toys—soft and homemade, each one shaped like a different animal.

  My eyes welled slightly at the sight of them. “You made those?”

  Zia shrugged. “I didn’t exactly have anything else to do while you were in labor for sixteen hours.”

  Jaxe sat back, now cradling both Liora and Lyra in his arms, one asleep and one blinking up at him with drowsy curiosity. “And not once did you let me help,” he muttered to Zia.

  “I didn’t trust you with a crochet hook,” she shot back.

  Jaxe rolled his eyes at Zia’s jab, but there was a smirk on his face that gave him away. He shifted the two pups in his arms—Lyra and Liora—rocking them gently with a touch I didn’t know he had. Lyra blinked up at him with that soft, sleepy pout of hers before nestling deeper into his chest like she’d known him forever.

  “She likes you,” I murmured, my voice still heavy with sleep.

  “Yeah?” he replied, eyes never leaving her face. “She’s got good taste, then.”

  “Too bad it doesn’t run in the family,” Zia muttered, nudging him with her foot as she sank to the floor beside the basket she’d brought.

  I laughed quietly, the sound more breath than voice, and I felt Apolloh’s smile against my hair as he stayed wrapped around me. His fingers kept tracing slow, soothing lines along my arm, and I leaned into it without thinking.

  Riven let out a sigh from where he lay, his little brow twitching in his sleep. Elara stretched just enough to press a tiny foot against his side before going still again.

  “It feels like we’re finally breathing again,” I whispered, mostly to myself.

  Zia nodded, her eyes sweeping across the room. “It’s sacred, you know. This space. Right now.”

  None of us spoke after that. We didn’t need to. The silence between us was full of something warmer than words—this quiet miracle of a moment, our babies curled close, love humming through every shared breath.

  Jaxe leaned back a little, both pups still cradled in his arms. “Think we’ve got time for a nap before the next wave hits?”

  Apolloh exhaled beside me, his voice low. “We better.”

  Zia reached for Riven and Elara, lifting them with a care that made my chest ache. She tucked them close between Apolloh and me, her movements slow, reverent.

  “We’ll stay,” she said, glancing at me. “You two rest.”

  “You’re sure?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

  Zia offered a soft nod as she settled on the floor with the little ones. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

  I gave her a grateful smile, my heart too full to speak. The den was quiet now, warm and safe. The pups were still. Our family—this chosen, beautiful family—was right here.

  And as my eyes drifted closed, I let the peace of it wrap around me like a blanket, knowing we were held in love on all sides.

  ~~~

  By the time I woke again, the sun had shifted high above the den, casting long stripes of light across the floor. My body ached in that quiet, heavy way only new mothers know, but it was softened by the comfort around me—by Apolloh’s steady breathing, the scent of warm herbs still lingering in the air, and the soft weight of Liora, who Zia must’ve tucked into my arms while I was still half-asleep.

  I blinked slowly, adjusting to the light and the low sounds. Zia and Jaxe must’ve let someone in.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Sure enough, when I sat up—gently, carefully—there was a soft knock followed by the door creaking open wider.

  “Incoming,” someone whispered with a grin in their voice. I looked over and saw Kaelen, followed closely by Mira and Tovin, each carrying something: food, blankets, and a bundle of flowers that had clearly been picked on the way over.

  “She’s awake,” Zia said, her voice gentle but teasing. “Took you long enough, sleeping beauty.”

  I gave her a tired smile and reached to fix my hair. “Can’t imagine why I’m exhausted.”

  The laughter that followed was soft, affectionate. The kind that only came from pack—our people. Our family.

  Kaelen knelt beside Apolloh and me, his hand brushing over one of the babies’ downy heads. “He’s got his dad’s brow. That permanent scowl.”

  “Hey,” Apolloh grumbled sleepily from behind me.

  “I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Kaelen added with a smirk.

  The room slowly filled—faces I hadn’t seen in weeks, some newer wolves I barely knew, all showing up with food, quiet congratulations, and that awed look people always wore around newborns. I watched them step softly around our babies, their voices low and full of reverence, as if they, too, felt how sacred the moment was.

  Mira sat beside me and gently handed over a warm drink. “You did it,” she whispered, her smile warm. “All four. They’re perfect.”

  I looked down at Liora in my arms, then over to where Zia still cradled Elara and Jaxe held both Lyra and Riven—safe and snug, just like they had been when we all drifted back to sleep.

  “We did,” I whispered back. “We really did.”

  As the room filled with soft chatter, the door creaked again, and this time Kira stepped in with Eli close behind her, both holding baskets of bread and fresh fruit. Kira’s usual confident stride was tempered with a tenderness as she moved toward us, her eyes softening when she saw the babies.

  “I was beginning to think you’d put a spell on them to keep them asleep longer,” Kira teased, looking at Zia with a sly grin. Eli gave her a gentle nudge, his eyes twinkling.

  “They’re probably just giving Laika a break,” Eli added, his healer’s insight evident in the warmth of his voice. “Not everyone brings four into the world at once.”

  Kira settled in closer, adjusting Lyra in her arms with practiced ease after Jaxe gently handed her over. “She’s got your nose,” she said, glancing between me and Apolloh. “Though the pout is definitely yours.” She grinned at Apolloh, who only raised an eyebrow in response, still half-drowsy but clearly listening.

  “You know,” she went on, softer now, “I’ve seen a lot of births. Helped with more than I can count. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen something like this.”

  “Four at once,” Eli murmured, still seated beside Zia. “And all of them strong. Breathing steady. That doesn’t happen often, not without help.”

  His words settled in the room like a quiet reverence, the reminder that this moment—this family—was more than rare. It was something close to sacred.

  I looked at them both, suddenly overwhelmed by the weight of it all. “You really think it’s that unusual?”

  Eli met my gaze, calm and certain. “I know it is.”

  Kira’s smile gentled. “Doesn’t mean you won’t handle it. You’re already doing it.”

  She reached out, brushing a few strands of hair from my face. Her touch was light, but the gesture carried years of history, of everything we’d been through together.

  “If you ever need help, though,” she added, glancing over at Jaxe, who still had Riven tucked securely in his arms, “you know where to find us.”

  “Preferably not in the middle of the night,” Eli said, raising an eyebrow with a teasing smile.

  “I make no promises,” I replied, half-laughing.

  Eventually, the room began to quiet. Kaelen, Mira, and Tovin were the first to leave, slipping out with warm smiles and promises to check in again soon. Kira and Eli followed after, lingering only a moment to glance at the babies one last time. Zia and Jaxe were the last to head out, Zia brushing her hand gently along my shoulder before pulling the door shut behind them.

  Silence settled like a soft blanket. I leaned into Apolloh, the weight of Liora still tucked in my arms, and just breathed for a moment.

  Then came a soft knock.

  Not the kind that demanded attention—but the hesitant kind, light and polite, as if whoever stood behind the door wasn’t sure they had the right.

  “Come in,” I called, voice still quiet.

  The door creaked open just enough for Kailaa’s head to peek in, her wide eyes searching the room like she was making sure it was safe.

  “Are the visitors gone?” she asked.

  “They are,” Apolloh said, already smiling. “Come on in.”

  She slipped inside with a barely-contained bounce, and Elias followed close behind, a small something cradled in both hands like it might fall apart if he wasn’t careful.

  “We waited till everyone else left,” Kailaa said as she reached the side of the bed. “We didn’t want to bother the babies.”

  “You could never bother them,” I murmured. “Come on up.”

  Kailaa climbed up carefully, settling at my side and peeking over to get a closer look at Liora. Elias stood near Apolloh’s side of the bed, gently rocking on his feet before offering up his creation.

  “I made them a charm,” he said, holding out a loop of twine threaded with tiny feathers and a smooth pebble in the middle. “For protection. You can hang it over wherever they sleep.”

  My heart swelled.

  “That’s beautiful, Elias,” I whispered, taking it from his hands with reverence. “Thank you.”

  Kailaa reached out with one finger, brushing it along Liora’s tiny arm. “She makes the same face you do when you don’t like your tea.”

  I laughed softly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  Elias leaned closer to the rest of the babies, peering at each one in turn. “They’re so small.”

  “They won’t be for long,” Apolloh said. “You two are going to be the ones showing them how to keep up.”

  Kailaa’s smile turned proud. “We’re gonna teach them everything.”

  “And we’ll keep them safe,” Elias added quickly. “Always.”

  ——

  The room settled back into its peaceful rhythm, the soft murmurs of conversation gradually fading into contented silence. Kailaa and Elias eventually nestled into a corner, content to watch the babies sleep and share their small moments with each other. The afternoon light warmed the room as it slanted through the window, casting gentle shadows on the floor.

  Apolloh and I stayed where we were, the weight of Liora in my arms grounding me as I allowed myself to relax further into the bed. The others had left, but I still felt the faint echo of their presence in the air, their laughter and warmth lingering like a soft blanket.

  Apolloh, ever observant, watched me closely. His hand rested lightly on mine, a comforting gesture that felt like home.

  “Are you doing okay?” he asked quietly, his voice a tender murmur in the stillness.

  I nodded, a soft smile tugging at my lips. “I am now.”

  His thumb traced over my knuckles, and I felt a warmth spread through me. “Good. I’m here, always.”

  It was easy to let the world outside fall away when he was close, when we were surrounded by the tiny, peaceful sounds of our children resting nearby. The babies stirred occasionally, tiny movements that barely registered, but I felt their presence as deeply as I felt the beating of my own heart.

  Kailaa and Elias eventually made their way to the bed, curling up in their usual spots—Elias draping himself over the foot while Kailaa squeezed in beside me. Her eyes lingered on the soft rise and fall of the blanket where Liora slept against my chest. She reached out gently, brushing her fingers over Liora’s tiny hand.

  “She’s so small,” Kailaa whispered.

  “She is,” I murmured, “but strong. Just like the others.”

  Elias leaned over the edge, peeking at the bassinet where the other three rested. “Are we gonna help take care of them too?”

  I smiled at him, reaching to ruffle his hair. “Of course. They’re your little brother and sisters now.”

  Kailaa beamed, and Elias gave a nod so serious it made me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

  “They’re really here, aren’t they?” Kailaa whispered.

  “They are,” I said, my voice full of wonder. “They’re really ours.”

  Apolloh kissed the top of my head and pulled me closer, his warmth enveloping me. “And we’ll make sure they know just how loved they are.”

  Kailaa and Elias nodded in quiet agreement, their eyes full of quiet admiration as they watched their newest siblings breathe, blink, and dream.

  It was a peaceful end to a long day, the kind that I’d been waiting for—one full of love, laughter, and quiet moments of connection. With the four little ones beside us, and the bond we shared as a family, I felt a deep sense of fulfillment I hadn’t known was possible.

  ——

  That night, I fell asleep with Apolloh’s hand wrapped around mine, his thumb gently brushing my knuckles even as his breathing deepened beside me. Kailaa and Elias had stayed close, their small bodies curled up nearby, and for a little while, everything felt perfect.

  Before my eyes closed for the night, I’d kissed the tops of each baby’s head and made sure they were all tucked safely into the bassinet—Elara, Lyra, Riven… and Liora, who had been the last to fall asleep in my arms before I gently placed her down.

  Somewhere in the hush of night, something shifted.

  The air felt heavier—too still. Time seemed to fold in on itself, stretching and slowing like the world had forgotten how to breathe.

  I was no longer in bed.

  The room was gone. The light. The warmth. Everything.

  Instead, I stood alone in an endless field blanketed in silver mist. My bare feet sank into damp earth, and above me stretched a sky without stars or color, just a blank, pulsing void. Wind moved through the haze, carrying whispers—familiar, urgent, impossible to name.

  A crackling sound echoed behind me, dry and sharp like burning wood. I turned.

  A figure stood at the edge of the fog—tall, faceless, cloaked in shadows. Its presence sent ice crawling across my skin. It didn’t speak. It only lifted an arm and pointed.

  And the earth… split.

  Crumbling stone. Fire. A sudden scream—then many.

  I staggered backward, heart hammering, just as I saw them.

  The babies.

  Liora. Lyra. Elara. Riven.

  Scattered. Alone.

  Crying. Reaching.

  Fading.

  I ran toward them, or tried to—but my legs felt like they were moving through water, the ground pulling me down with every step. Their cries grew fainter, swallowed by the smoke curling up around them, thick and choking.

  “No—no, please!” I screamed their names, again and again, until my voice broke, until my chest ached—

  And then I was screaming for real.

  My eyes snapped open as the sound tore from me—raw, breathless, terrified.

  The room rushed in all at once.

  Sweat clung to my skin. My heart raced in my chest. The cries of four tiny voices rose like an alarm from the bassinet across the room, sharp and distressed.

  Elias sat bolt upright, his face pale in the darkness. Kailaa scrambled toward me, already climbing into the bed.

  Apolloh reached me in a flash. “Laika!”

  “I—I’m okay,” I tried to say, but the words cracked and fell apart in my throat.

  And then I broke.

  The sobs came hard and fast, crashing over me without warning. I buried my face in my hands, shoulders shaking as I crumbled beneath the weight of it—of the dream, of the fear, of the helplessness I couldn’t shake. I couldn’t stop crying. The images, the sound of their cries, the figure in the mist—it all clung to me like smoke I couldn’t escape.

  Apolloh wrapped his arms around me without hesitation, pulling me tight to his chest as I shook. He didn’t say anything at first. He just held me while I unraveled.

  Kailaa clung to my side, one small hand stroking my back, her own eyes wide with worry.

  “It was just a dream. Just a dream…” Apolloh whispered, voice low, brushing the hair from my face. “You’re safe. We’re all here. It’s over now.”

  But it didn’t feel like one.

  And it still hadn’t let go of me.