One year after my wedding, I'm pregnant. It's unexpected but not unwelcome. Ronan is over the moon about it. My father, surprisingly, is the one organizing baby showers and making plans for when the baby arrives.
Sage is also expecting. She and Kai are having a daughter, and there's already talk of her training to be a warrior when she's old enough.
But something is happening in the pack system that makes me worry about the world my child will grow up in.
A new political group has formed. They call themselves the Traditionalists, and they believe that the changes we've made have gone too far. They want to return to the old hierarchy. They want women out of warrior roles. They want the ranking system to go back to the way it was before.
"This was inevitable," Raven says during a council meeting. "Change always creates a reaction. The people who benefited from the old system are fighting back."
"How strong are they?" I ask.
"Strong enough to be dangerous," Raven says. "Not strong enough to actually win, but strong enough to cause problems."
The Traditionalists start by blocking women from training programs in some packs. They spread propaganda claiming that female warriors are unnatural. They point to any mistake any female warrior makes as proof that women shouldn't be warriors.
It's frustrating. It feels like we're fighting the same battles we've already fought.
But this time is different. This time, there are other voices fighting alongside us. Men who support the changes. Younger pack members who don't remember the old system. Warriors who've trained with female fighters and know their skill firsthand.
"We can't just fight them head-on," Sage says. She's pregnant now, but she's still working. She's still planning. "We need to show people that the world doesn't fall apart when women have power."
"How do we do that?" Kira asks.
"By making our daughter so powerful that nobody can deny what she can do," Sage says, putting her hand on her belly. "By training the next generation to be stronger and better than we are."
I understand what she means. This isn't just about us anymore. It's about the future. About making sure that our children grow up in a world where they have choices.
Three months before my daughter is born, I step back from active operations. My job now is to train warriors remotely and to work on policy with the Alpha King. Sage does the same.
The Traditionalist movement tries to use our pregnancy as proof that we're abandoning our positions. They claim we never had the strength to truly lead.
"Let them claim whatever they want," I tell Sage. "We know the truth."
My daughter, Emma, is born on a clear spring day. She's small and perfect and completely helpless. When I hold her for the first time, I understand something about why my father was so complicated about me. I understand the fear that comes with loving something so much that you would do anything to protect it.
But I also understand that protecting her doesn't mean controlling her. It means teaching her to be strong. To believe in herself. To know that she has choices.
Sage's daughter, Luna, is born three weeks later. Kai brings her to meet me in the hospital, and the two babies are placed in their bassinets next to each other.
"Do you think they'll be friends?" Kai asks.
"I think they'll be warriors together," I say. "Just like their mothers."
Over the next few years, the Traditionalist movement grows stronger but never gains real power. They make noise. They block progress in some areas. But they can't stop the momentum of change.
My Emma grows up seeing both her mother and her father as warriors. She grows up in a world where it's normal for women to fight. Normal for people to choose their own paths.
Luna grows up with two fathers and a mother who are equally strong and equally loving. She grows up knowing that family doesn't have to look like the old system said it should.
When Emma is four years old, we celebrate the tenth anniversary of the Warrior Trials. The Alpha King holds a special ceremony honoring the top fighters who've come through his training program in the past decade.
I'm not fighting anymore. My days of active combat are mostly behind me. But I watch the new generation of warriors, and I see the difference that a decade of change has made. There are girls fighting alongside boys. There are warriors from lower-ranked families standing shoulder to shoulder with the elite. There are people who would never have been given a chance under the old system.
"We did it," Sage says, watching with Emma and Luna asleep in our laps.
"Did we?" I ask. "Or did we just plant the seeds and let other people water them?"
"Both," Sage says. "That's how real change works. You plant the seeds. You make the first moves. And then you get out of the way and let other people carry it forward."
That evening, I'm watching Emma play with other children. She's playing a game where she's pretending to be a warrior. She's fearless and strong and completely unburdened by the knowledge that girl warriors are controversial.
My father comes and sits next to me.
"She's going to be amazing," he says.
"She will," I agree.
"I'm sorry," my father says again. It's something he says often now. "For everything I missed. For all the years I was such a coward."
"You're here now," I say. "That's what matters."
My father and I have built something that works. It's not the traditional father-daughter relationship. There are gaps and scars that will never fully heal. But there's also genuine love. And respect.
Before I go to bed that night, I stand in Emma's room and watch her sleep. I think about who she'll become. What choices she'll make. What battles she might have to fight.
And I realize that the greatest gift I can give her is what Sage gave me. The belief that she can be whatever she wants to be. The knowledge that power isn't something that's given to you by the system. It's something you take.
I write in my journal that night:
*Ten years ago, I walked into the Warrior Trials as a girl who had been told she would never be strong enough. I walked out as a champion. But the real victory wasn't winning a tournament. The real victory was learning that my worth wasn't something that had to be proven to the people who didn't believe in me. It was something I had to prove to myself.*
*The system hasn't been completely destroyed. The hierarchy hasn't been erased. Challenges remain. But the door has been opened. Women can train. Women can lead. Women can choose their own paths.*
*And maybe that's all change ever is. Not the destruction of everything that came before, but the opening of doors that were previously locked. The creation of possibilities where there were none.*
*I think about the girl I was ten years ago. The invisible girl. The girl who thought power only came from approval. And I'm grateful that she found people who believed in her. But I'm even more grateful that she learned to believe in herself.*
*Tomorrow, Emma will wake up and play warrior. Luna will wake up and play whatever she wants to play. And they'll do it in a world where those choices are possible. Not because we fought a perfect fight or won a perfect victory. But because we were willing to keep fighting even when we didn't know if we would win.*
*That's the real legacy we're leaving. Not the battles we won, but the belief that battles can be won. That systems can change. That impossible things can become possible if enough people are brave enough to try.*
Three months after the tenth-anniversary ceremony, I'm asked to be part of the Alpha King's inner council. It's a position of significant power and responsibility.
When the Alpha King makes the offer, he explains, "You've proven that you can lead with honor. That you can fight for change without losing sight of what you're fighting for. The pack system needs people like that in positions of real power."
I accept the position. But I do it understanding that my journey isn't over. It's transforming. From a girl fighting to be seen. To a warrior fighting for others. To a leader working to build a better system for the next generation.
That night, I sit on the roof with Sage, just like we used to do at the beginning of all this.
"Do you ever regret it?" I ask. "Coming to my pack? Starting all this?"
"No," Sage says. "Do you?"
"Not for a second," I say.
"Good," Sage says. She puts her hand over mine. "Because we're just getting started."
And watching the sunrise over the Alpha King's compound, with the mountains stretching out beneath us and the entire pack system beginning to change, I know she's right.
We're not done. We'll probably never be done. There will always be new battles to fight. New systems to challenge. New doors to open.
But that's okay. Because that's what warriors do. We keep fighting. Not because we're angry. But because we believe something better is possible.
And we've learned that belief is the most powerful weapon of all.