Time didn't pass; it ran.
For a human woman, a pregnancy lasts nine moons.
For Nyra, whose body burned with lupine metabolism and ancestral magic, nature followed an accelerated, violent course.
In just three months after the discovery, her belly had swollen like a full moon ready to burst.
It was a suffocating summer night.
The air was heavy, thick with static electricity, and the cicadas screamed an overwhelming symphony in the forests around them.
Inside the cabin, Nyra's screams drowned the cicadas out.
"Breathe!" commanded old Lady Hina, the midwife from the nearby village whom Eijiro had rushed to fetch. Her wrinkled eyes were wide with fear and confusion, she had never seen a labor progress with such ferocity.
"The child wants to come! Now!"
Nyra lay on the futon, drenched in sweat.
Her silver hair clung to her face.
She gripped Eijiro's hand with such force that his bones cracked under the pressure — yet he didn't complain.
He was pale, wiping her forehead with a cool cloth.
"I can't…" Nyra groaned, in pain so intense her battles against demons felt like children's games in comparison. Her hips felt as if they were being split apart by a dull axe.
"You can." Eijiro murmured, his voice steady near her ear.
"You survived hell, Nyra. Bring her into this world."
A brutal contraction hit.
Nyra threw her head back and roared.
It wasn't a human scream; it was a guttural, primal sound that made the candles quiver and the midwife flinch backward.
Nyra's claws shredded the sheet.
Her fangs had descended, grazing her lower lip.
"Push!" Hina shouted, overcoming her fear through sheer duty.
With one final, titanic effort — where Nyra felt her own soul tearing in half to let another through, her body yielded.
Silence fell in the cabin.
For one terrible second, there was no sound.
Nyra collapsed against the pillow, chest heaving, heart pounding out of rhythm.
She's dead, she thought, cold panic coiling around her spine.
I killed her with my poison.
And then... the cry.
Loud, clear, indignant.
A sound of pure life, untouched, untainted.
"It's a girl," the midwife announced, her voice trembling with relief.
She quickly cleaned the child and wrapped her in a soft cotton cloth.
Eijiro released Nyra's hand and took the small bundle.
He stared at the wrinkled, red face, and thick tears slid down his weathered cheeks.
He knelt and placed the baby in Nyra's arms.
Nyra looked down.
The child was tiny, fragile.
She had tufts of silver hair like hers.
Nyra touched her cheek with the tip of her finger, terrified she might break her.
Slowly, the baby opened her eyes.
Nyra held her breath, expecting to see gold, the sign of the beast.
But the eyes that met hers were dark.
Deep brown, almost black.
Human eyes.
Eijiro's eyes.
The tension Nyra had carried her entire life — the weight of the sword, the weight of destiny, the weight of Dracula's hatred — evaporated.
Nyra's lips trembled.
And then it happened.
She smiled.
Not a battle grin, not a bitter smile of irony — but a genuine, open smile that lit her pale face and made her look, for the first time, not like a warrior or a survivor, but simply a whole woman.
"She's beautiful," she whispered, the name rising unbidden to her mind.
"Little lily."
"Yes… she's perfect," Eijiro echoed, kissing Nyra's temple and mixing his tears with her sweat.
"She's perfect."
The midwife, seeing the scene, smiled wearily and began gathering the bloodied water basins.
"I'll leave you to rest," the old woman said, heading to the back door to wash her hands.
"Never seen a birth like that… but the gods were here today."
Nyra nestled Sayuri against her chest, feeling the warmth of new life.
The world seemed still.
There was peace.
Finally, peace.
And then… minutes later…
Crack.
The sound came from the roof.
It wasn't a branch falling.
It was the sound of something landing.
Something heavy — with sharp claws.
Nyra's smile vanished instantly.
Her pupils contracted.
Her nose caught the scent carried by the wind blowing through the open window.
It wasn't rain.
It was ammonia, rotten flesh, and ancient dust.
Eijiro saw the change in her face.
His body went rigid.
"Nyra?"
"Turn off the light," she whispered, her voice freezing the warm air of the room.
"Eijiro, turn off the light now!"
Before he could move, a shadow crossed the rice-paper window.
Then another.
And another.
The sound of wings.
Thousands of leather wings beating in unison, creating a low drone that made Nyra's bones vibrate.
They had not come for Nyra's scent — which had been hidden for months.
They came for the explosion of pure vital energy released into the ether by the birth of a hybrid child.
Like sharks sensing a drop of blood in the ocean from miles away.
A crow landed on the windowsill.
Its eyes were not the black beads of a normal bird.
They glowed red, with a malevolent, intelligent awareness.
The bird cawed and the sound wasn't a call.
It was a distorted voice, projected through the animal's throat.
"Found."
Nyra clutched Sayuri to her chest, feeling the baby's heart race.
The bubble of happiness had lasted less than an hour.
The bloodline's legacy had come to collect the debt.
"They are here," Nyra said, her blue eyes igniting in the darkness, filled with tears and fury.