Alpha Kael's dangerous Obsession

POV: Liora

The days that followed should have been peaceful, at least by every ordinary measure of what peace was supposed to look like after surviving death, breaking a cycle that had existed across twenty-six lives, and bringing two children into the world under circumstances no healer in the fortress could explain. Instead, time seemed to move strangely around me. The fortress had returned to its routines, but nothing about my life had returned to normal, and every morning brought another reminder that the children I had carried were not ordinary.

I spent most of my time recovering in my chambers, surrounded by healers who insisted that my body needed rest and servants who treated me as though I might collapse if I stood too quickly. I tolerated their concern because I understood why they were frightened. I had nearly died giving birth, absorbed Kael’s soul into my own, awakened powers that had shaken the fortress, and somehow survived an event that should have been impossible. The fact that I was still breathing seemed to be enough to make everyone cautious around me.

But the twins were the real mystery.

They didn’t cry.

They barely fussed.

They slept when they wanted to sleep and opened their eyes whenever something caught their attention, but even that wasn’t quite accurate because they didn’t simply react to movement the way newborns were supposed to. They followed it.

Precisely.

The first time I noticed it, I told myself I was imagining things.

A healer had walked across the room carrying a tray, and the boy’s eyes followed her from one side of the chamber to the other without losing focus. His head turned gradually as she moved, tracking her with an accuracy that made me pause.

I watched him.

He watched her.

The healer eventually disappeared through the door.

Only then did his attention return to me.

I remember staring at him for several seconds afterward, trying to convince myself there was a reasonable explanation.

Perhaps newborns were more aware than people assumed.

Perhaps the White Wolf bloodline had altered them.

Perhaps everything I had experienced had made me overly sensitive to small details.

I chose the easiest explanation.

Instinct.

That was what I called it.

Every time they did something strange, I told myself it was instinct.

When the girl turned her head toward the sound of footsteps before the door opened, I called it instinct. When the boy became still whenever someone unfamiliar entered the room, I called it instinct. When they both seemed to recognize certain voices despite having heard them only a few times, I told myself they were simply responding to familiarity.

I needed those explanations.

Because the alternative was much harder to accept.

They weren’t behaving like ordinary newborns.

They were behaving like beings who already understood something about the world.

And I wasn’t ready to understand what that meant.

One afternoon, I sat near the window with the twins resting on a blanket beside me. Sunlight poured through the curtains, touching their faces with a soft golden glow. They were awake, as usual, but neither made a sound.

The girl was staring at the ceiling.

The boy was watching me.

I had become accustomed to his attention by then.

Still, something about it unsettled me.

His silver eyes remained fixed on my face with an intensity that seemed impossible for someone so young.

I leaned closer.

"What are you looking at?"

He didn’t blink.

I smiled despite myself.

"You know, you’re supposed to be sleeping."

His eyes shifted.

Not toward my voice.

Toward the door.

I frowned.

The room was silent.

I heard nothing.

The girl also turned her head.

I looked toward the door.

Nothing.

For several seconds, I remained still.

Then I heard footsteps approaching from the corridor.

My stomach tightened.

The footsteps came closer.

One of the servants appeared outside the door.

The twins had known before I did.

I stared at them.

The servant entered carrying fresh linens and bowed before approaching the bed.

Neither child looked surprised.

Neither reacted.

They had already known someone was coming.

I tried to dismiss it.

Maybe they had heard the footsteps before I had.

That explanation was possible.

I held onto it.

For a while.

Then it happened again.

And again.

And again.

The pattern became impossible to ignore.

Whenever someone approached the chamber, at least one of them reacted before I heard anything. Sometimes they reacted before the person even reached the corridor outside my room.

It wasn’t simply hearing.

It was anticipation.

That realization made me uncomfortable enough that I began watching them more carefully.

I started testing it without meaning to.

I would move my hand toward a toy before touching it, and the girl would look toward it.

I would reach for a blanket, and the boy would turn toward the exact place where my hand was going.

Once, I stood completely still and thought about picking up the girl.

She looked directly at me.

I hadn’t moved.

I hadn’t spoken.

I hadn’t even reached toward her.

Yet somehow, she knew.

I froze.

She stared at me.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then I slowly extended my hand.

Her eyes followed it.

My skin prickled.

"How are you doing that?"

She didn’t answer.

Of course she couldn’t.

She simply watched me.

The question sounded ridiculous the moment it left my mouth.

I laughed quietly, but there was no humor behind it.

I was beginning to understand why the healers had looked so unsettled.

They had seen what I had seen.

They simply didn’t know what to call it.

Neither did I.

I reached down and touched the girl’s cheek.

Her eyes remained fixed on mine.

The connection between us opened slightly.

Not like the connection I shared with Kael.

This was different.

Softer.

Newer.

But undeniably present.

I felt her awareness brushing against mine.

Curiosity.

Recognition.

And something else I couldn’t identify.

I withdrew my hand.

The moment I did, her gaze followed my movement.

Then she looked toward the door.

Again.

I frowned.

"What is it?"

Nothing happened.

I waited.

The boy suddenly became still.

Not sleepy.

Not relaxed.

Still.

Every part of his tiny body seemed to become completely motionless.

I looked at him.

Then at his sister.

They were both looking toward the same direction.

The door.

I listened.

Nothing.

A few seconds passed.

Then I heard footsteps.

Slow.

Heavy.

Familiar.

My heart recognized them before my mind did.

Kael.

I looked toward the door.

He hadn’t entered yet.

The twins already knew.

I felt his presence through the connection inside me before he crossed the threshold.

The strange thing was that they had reacted before I consciously registered him.

The door opened.

Kael stepped inside.

His eyes immediately found mine.

Then they moved toward the twins.

A faint smile touched his face.

"They’re awake."

"They knew you were coming."

His expression changed slightly.

"What?"

I looked at him.

"They turned toward the door before I heard you."

Kael glanced at the children.

Neither looked at him with the curiosity a newborn should have shown.

They simply watched.

His smile disappeared.

"They do that often?"

"More than often."

I hesitated.

"They do it before things happen."

Kael’s gaze sharpened.

Before he could respond, there was a loud crash somewhere down the corridor.

The twins reacted.

But not after the sound.

Before it.

Both turned their heads toward the door a heartbeat before the crash reached us.

I felt the blood drain from my face.

Kael went completely still.

The crash echoed through the fortress.

Someone shouted.

Footsteps immediately followed.

The twins remained calm.

They had known.

They had anticipated it.

Neither child cried.

Neither startled.

Neither even seemed surprised.

They simply watched the door.

I slowly looked at Kael.

He was already looking at me.

Neither of us spoke.

We didn’t need to.

We had both seen it.

Something moved inside my chest.

Not fear exactly.

Something deeper.

A realization forming before I was ready to accept it.

The twins weren’t simply responding to the world around them.

They were sensing it before it happened.

I looked down at them again.

The boy turned toward me.

The girl followed.

Both pairs of silver eyes settled on my face.

They looked so small.

So innocent.

So impossibly young.

Yet there was something behind their eyes that I could no longer pretend wasn’t there.

They weren’t waiting to learn what was happening.

They already knew something was coming.

My chest tightened as the final piece fell into place.

I had spent days telling myself it was instinct.

I had told myself they were simply unusually perceptive.

I had told myself their behavior would eventually become normal.

But I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.

Instinct reacted.

Learning came after experience.

What I was seeing was neither.

They were anticipating.

And as the twins continued staring at me with that unnerving, silent awareness, I felt a cold realization settle through my body.

They weren’t reacting to the world around them.

They were observing it before it happened.

They were anticipating it.

And suddenly I wasn’t sure whether they had been born into this world...

or whether they had already known it long before they opened their eyes.