The moment you revealed the test, time seemed to compress and stretch all at once. The pregnancy stick, trembling in your hands, glowed softly in the ambient candlelight—a slender shard of truth bearing the word "POSITIVE" in bold, irrevocable letters. Each letter pulsed with gravity, like a secret scrawled across destiny itself. Ashtoreth’s breath hitched as his gaze snapped to it, his usually unreadable expression shattered, replaced by unguarded astonishment. For a heartbeat, the entire room felt suspended between realities—the world before and the world after those letters.

He stepped forward slowly, like approaching a sacred monument. He reached out, one cool hand brushing the side of your face with exquisite care, his thumb catching the tremble in your cheek. His other hand drifted to your abdomen, fingers splayed as though listening through touch, waiting for something that had only just begun.

The room responded to you both—the very air hummed softly, threads of arcane energy knitting themselves between your bodies, subtle and warm. Shadows stretched long and curling along the walls, and the scent of wax and myrrh mingled with something new, something primal and alive. In his gaze, you saw the vulnerability of someone who’d borne kingdoms, yet stood speechless before the fragile spark of life.

“I’m glad you told me right away,” he murmured, each word rich with emotion, his voice low and resonant, like a lullaby spun from thunder. The wonder in his expression deepened—his brows softened, his lips tugged into something hesitant and full of promise. That smile was unlike any you’d seen from him before: not amused or wry, not fierce or noble—just human. A joy that built like a crescendo behind his ribs, spreading outward in quiet astonishment.

Though Amy and Pytho were beloved fixtures in his world, this—this—was something wholly different. A surge of new meaning rippled through his existence. His bond to you, once forged through fire and endurance, now glowed with the intimacy of creation. In that moment, he wasn’t just your protector, your companion—he was your counterpart in something tender and everlasting. Every glance he gave you radiated with acceptance, devotion, and a trembling hope that hadn’t yet found words.

He leaned in, his forehead brushing yours, and whispered with a crooked grin, “Maybe I’ll call them my little lightning bolt.” The nickname sparked through the space like a beacon, light-hearted and profound. It echoed into the shadows, casting warmth into the corners of the room, as if the universe itself recognized the significance.

Then, silence—but the kind that holds joy at its center. No longer hollow, no longer heavy—just the hush of possibility.