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Comrade 110

Comrade 110

The cries of the twin babies echoed softly in the chamber, one howl, one hiss, weaving together like two threads of fate that had never meant to meet.

Eva lay weak but breathing, her chest rising slowly beneath a blanket. Max sat beside her, cradling the wolf-born child in his arms while Tiana held the quieter one, the baby whose eyes flickered with something ancient and unreadable.

The room was quiet, tense, until the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway. Dany stepped in first, sword drawn, eyes still wary after the siege. But it was the figure behind him that drew all attention.

The seer.

Her robes were torn and soaked from travel, her face pale and drawn, but her eyes… her eyes widened the moment they landed on the twins.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no…”

Max stood quickly, alarmed. “What’s wrong? What do you see?”

The seer walked closer, her gaze bouncing between the two children. She dropped to her knees before them, her hands trembling as she reached out, not to touch—but to feel.

“You misunderstood…” Her voice cracked, her entire body shaking as the truth spilled from her lips. “The prophecy wasn’t about which child would destroy the bloodlines. It was about which child would save it.”

Silence fell like a heavy blanket.

Tiana blinked. “What are you saying?”

The seer slowly looked up. “The vision was always misread. The language in the old texts… it never said one would doom us all. It said one would end the war, yes—but through union or through ruin. One child holds the key to peace between wolves and vampires. The other…” Her voice trembled. “The other will bring a fire so great, it will devour both sides.”

Eva stirred slightly on the bed, her eyelids fluttering. Max reached for her, brushing his hand over her face.

“She needs rest,” he murmured, eyes never leaving hers. “She gave everything to bring them here.”

Dany folded his arms. “And now we don’t know which baby is which?”

The seer shook her head. “No. Not yet. It is too soon. Their paths aren’t fully written.”

Tiana swallowed hard and looked down at the child in her arms. “But one of them… one of them could destroy everything.”

“Or save it all,” the seer added quickly. “Don’t forget that.”

Max paced the room, tension written in every movement. “So what do we do? Wait until one of them shows us? What if we guess wrong?”

The air grew colder in that moment.

A sharp tapping came from the window. Then again.

Everyone turned toward the sound.

Outside, framed in the moonlight, was a shadowy figure. Her cloak flared in the wind like wings. Her hair blew wildly around her face. And in her hand—gleaming and sharp—was a sword black as night.

Georgina.

Alive. Still turned. But something in her eyes was different now. Less feral. More focused.

Eva’s breath hitched, and her eyes finally opened.

“Mother…”

Max stepped protectively in front of her, but Georgina didn’t enter. She remained outside, staring at the newborns with a strange, unreadable expression.

She raised the sword slowly, tilting it toward the window so the dark metal caught the moonlight. Her voice, clear and cold, cut through the stillness.

“Then let’s find out which one’s which.”

Comrade

Comrade

Score 9.9
Status: Ongoing Type:
Comrade Summary & Review: Comrade

Princess Evangeline of Morwyn sat in the quiet waiting room of the royal physician’s office, her mind a whirlwind of fear and fragile hope. The grand palace, bathed in soft afternoon light, felt both like a home and a cage. She had been married to Crown Prince Sebastian of Valdris for three years, but their union was nothing more than a political arrangement—an alliance forged by their fathers to secure peace between their lands.

From the very beginning, Sebastian made it clear that his marriage to Evangeline was purely out of duty, not affection. They slept in separate chambers, exchanged only polite words in public, and maintained a cold civility that masked the emptiness beneath. Evangeline had once dreamed that time might change things, that she might earn his heart, but years of distance had buried that hope deep inside her.

Recently, however, her body had begun to change. She felt nauseated in the mornings, dizzy, and uncommonly tired. These signs, though subtle, stirred a small flame of longing within her—a desperate wish that she might finally be carrying his child. Perhaps, she thought, a baby could soften Sebastian’s heart and give meaning to their lifeless marriage.

When the physician, Master Aldrich, appeared at the doorway, his kind smile gave her both comfort and dread. He led her into his study, a cozy room filled with the scent of herbs, the warmth of a crackling fire, and shelves of ancient medical texts. Evangeline sat nervously as the old man took a sealed parchment from his desk.

With a gentle voice, Master Aldrich delivered the news that would change everything: “Your Highness, I’m delighted to tell you that you are indeed expecting.”

Evangeline’s breath caught in her throat. Her trembling hands broke the royal seal and scanned the words written neatly across the parchment. Pregnant. She was truly with child. Before she could even absorb the shock, Master Aldrich continued, beaming with joy—she was not carrying just one baby, but twins.

The revelation sent a rush of emotion through her—relief, disbelief, joy. Twins! Two heirs for the royal family. The weight of that realization made her dizzy, but it also filled her with warmth and purpose. For the first time in years, she smiled with genuine happiness. Perhaps this was the miracle she needed to mend what had long been broken.

In that moment, she imagined Sebastian’s face lighting up with pride and excitement. She pictured him embracing her, maybe even thanking her. The thought filled her with renewed courage. She thanked Master Aldrich graciously and insisted that she would tell Sebastian the news herself. This moment, she decided, must belong to them alone.

Walking through the grand marble corridors of the palace, Evangeline’s heart felt light for the first time in years. Servants bowed as she passed, but she hardly noticed them—her mind was focused only on Sebastian and the life growing inside her. She wanted to see him, to share the joy, to believe that maybe, just maybe, love could still bloom between them.

As she approached the door of Sebastian’s private study, her steps quickened. She called out softly, “Sebastian! My lord, I have the most wonderful news to—”

But her voice faltered.

Through the half-open door, Evangeline froze at the sight before her. Her husband stood with Lady Cordelia Ashworth, daughter of the Duke of Greymont, wrapped in his arms. The woman’s fiery red hair cascaded over Sebastian’s shoulders as he held her close. Evangeline’s heart stopped when she saw him tilt Cordelia’s chin upward and press his lips to hers—a tender, passionate kiss filled with the warmth and love she had begged the heavens for all these years.

It was everything she had ever wanted—and it wasn’t hers.

For a long, unbearable second, Evangeline could only stare. The parchment with her pregnancy confirmation still trembled in her hand. Then, in a broken whisper, she said his name: “Sebastian…”

The Crown Prince turned sharply, surprise flashing across his features before being quickly masked by his usual calm. Cordelia paled and stepped back, though Sebastian’s arm lingered protectively around her waist.

“Evangeline,” he said evenly, as though she were a stranger interrupting him, “what brings you here?”

Her throat tightened. She forced herself to stand tall, even as tears burned behind her eyes. “I… I live here,” she managed, her voice quivering. “I’m your wife.”

Sebastian’s cold gaze didn’t soften. “Is there something you need?” he asked, the same way he might address a court official.

Something inside Evangeline broke. Just minutes ago, she had been radiant with hope, ready to tell him that she carried his children—the future of his line. But now, staring at the indifference in his eyes and the woman in his arms, she realized the truth she had avoided for too long.

He would never love her. Not even their unborn children could change that.

A calmness settled over her—a cold, regal resolve that masked the chaos in her chest. Straightening her shoulders, Evangeline met his gaze with all the dignity her title demanded.

“Yes, my lord,” she said clearly. “There is something I need.”

Sebastian raised a brow, perhaps expecting her to plead, to cry, to beg for an explanation. Instead, she spoke words that shattered the silence of the study.

“I want an annulment.”

Both Sebastian and Cordelia froze. The shock in their eyes was almost satisfying. Cordelia gasped aloud, pressing a hand to her mouth, while Sebastian’s expression turned dark and unreadable.

“What did you say?” he asked in a dangerously quiet voice.

Evangeline’s chin lifted higher. Her hands no longer trembled. “You heard me perfectly,” she said. “I want our marriage annulled.”

In that instant, the timid princess who had once waited for scraps of affection was gone. What remained was a woman who had found her strength—not through her husband’s love, but through the pain he had caused.

Inside, she knew she carried the next heirs of the throne—his heirs—but she would not allow that to bind her to a man who treated her like a political pawn. She would raise her children with dignity, even if she had to walk away from the palace to do it.

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the crackle of the fireplace and the unspoken consequences of her declaration. But Evangeline didn’t wait for a reply. Gathering her skirts, she turned toward the door, her heart broken yet unburdened.

Her steps echoed through the marble halls as she walked away from the man who had never seen her—and toward the freedom she was finally claiming for herself.

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