Chapter 2

Soon after the wedding, I was pregnant.

A small, fragile hope started to grow in me, despite the unease that always lingered around Liam.

He was attentive, almost too much so.

Then, the accident happened.

Liam was "protecting" me, he said, from some minor threat during an outing.

A car swerved. It looked bad, really bad. He was hurt, critically.

Panic clawed at me.

The doctors weren't hopeful.

I remembered my parents' warnings: Never use your abilities directly to alter a major fate. The cost is too high.

But watching Liam fade, the thought of being alone again, truly alone, was unbearable.

In the sterile quiet of his hospital room, I reached out with that hidden part of myself, the Lifeweaver in me.

I focused all my will, all my nascent power, on him.

I felt a thread of his life, frayed and weak. I wove it back, strengthened it.

It was like pouring my own warmth into a block of ice.

He stabilized. The doctors called it a miracle.

I kept my secret.

The cost came swiftly.

Weeks later, I lost our first child.

A sharp pain, then blood. So much blood.

The doctors called it a miscarriage, unfortunate but common.

Liam was heartbroken, or so he seemed. His grief mirrored my own, and it bound us closer.

But then it happened again.

And again.

Five times.

Each pregnancy a fleeting joy, each loss a deeper wound.

None of my babies made it past six months.

I started to believe I was cursed. That saving Liam had demanded a terrible price, a price paid by our children.

The guilt ate at me. I was a Lifeweaver, meant to nurture life, and yet, I was a vessel of death.

Liam was always there, holding me, telling me we' d get through it.

His sorrow felt real. His arms felt like a shelter.

I didn't see the satisfaction in his eyes, hidden deep.

I didn't understand that my "curse" was his design.