Not the natural kind of storm, where clouds gather slowly and rain falls in predictable patterns. This was wrong from the first moment—the sky split open like a wound, lightning arcing between points that shouldn't exist, thunder that cracked with a rhythm that sounded almost like speech. Almost like a summoning.
Althander was beside her immediately, supporting her weight as she doubled over. But his attention was divided, his wolf senses screaming danger from every direction.
"They're using the storm," he said, his voice tight. "Using it as cover for their approach."
He was right. Through the violent flashes of light, Jasmine could see them now—figures emerging from the tree line. Not walking. Materializing. One moment the forest was empty, the next it held shapes that moved with predatory grace, their eyes reflecting the lightning in shades of gold and amber.
Seven of them. The full Council.
But there were others too. Humans, or at least human-shaped, wearing robes that seemed to drink in the light rather than reflect it. Mages. Jasmine could feel their energy like oil on water, slick and wrong and deliberately suppressing the island's natural protections.
"Althander of Silver Ridge," a voice called out, deep and commanding. The largest figure stepped forward, and even in her pain, Jasmine could see the resemblance. This was Garrett, Althander's father. His face was harder, colder than his son's, carved from stone and disappointment. "Step away from the human."
Althander's response was immediate—he shifted, his body exploding into his wolf form in a blur of motion and reformed clothing. He placed himself between Jasmine and the approaching figures, his massive silver-furred body radiating challenge. A growl built in his chest that made the ground vibrate.
Another contraction hit Jasmine, and with it came something else—that ocean of power inside her, responding to her distress, responding to her daughter's distress. It surged upward, no longer dormant, no longer waiting patiently for someone to learn how to use it.
Her daughter was using it now.
The earth beneath the Council members erupted. Roots burst through soil like serpents, wrapping around legs, pulling bodies off balance. Vines descended from trees with the speed of striking snakes. The island itself, animated by the child's desperate instinct for survival, attacked.
"Control yourself, female," one of the mages shouted, raising his hands. Dark energy pulsed from his palms, withering the roots that had caught his legs.
"She's in labor," Jasmine gasped, her voice breaking. "I'm not doing this. She is."
And it was true. Sophia, still watching from her position outside time, could feel it—that vast consciousness inside Jasmine's womb, aware that danger had arrived, that the moment of vulnerability was here, and responding with every ounce of power at her disposal. The baby was defending them with abilities that shouldn't exist, with control that shouldn't be possible.
A second mage joined the first, their combined power creating a dome of suppression that pushed back against the island's assault. Plants withered and died where the dark energy touched them. The protective magic that had sustained this place for centuries began to crack under the coordinated attack.
"You were warned, Althander," Garrett said, his voice heavy with something that might have been grief. "Warned that this union was forbidden. That the child would be an abomination."
Althander's wolf form shuddered, began to shift back. He needed speech, needed to plead his case, even as every instinct screamed at him to fight. "She's my daughter. Whatever she is, whoever she becomes, she's mine. You have no right—"
"We have every right," a woman's voice cut through the storm. Another Council member, silver-haired and ancient, stepped forward. "We had every right the moment you bonded with a reservoir carrier. The moment you created something that threatens the balance of every supernatural community on this continent."
Another contraction. This one dropped Jasmine to her knees. And with it, the island's defenses went wild. The storm intensified, lightning striking in a perfect circle around the Council members. The ground shook. Trees bent at impossible angles, their branches reaching like claws.
But it wasn't enough. Seven shifters and four mages, working in concert, were pushing through. Step by step, they advanced, their combined power overwhelming the island's desperate resistance.
"Please," Jasmine begged, looking directly at Garrett. "Please, she's just a baby. She hasn't done anything wrong. Give her a chance—"
"A chance to what?" Garrett's voice cracked like a whip. "To grow into something even more powerful? To upset the treaties that keep our kinds from war? We've consulted the oracles, girl. Every one of them says the same thing—this child is a catalyst. A pivot point. Her existence will bring change on a scale none of us can control."