Chapter Text
The news of the twins changed everything in the house. Peem began reinforcing the walls with talismans. Jet and Chan, though they grumbled about the “extra work,” carried furniture and hauled wood to help prepare the babies’ room.
Khem watched from the kitchen. His paintings had softened: dawn-lit landscapes, flowers opening to the sun, tiny figures with smiling faces. His nesting instinct filled every canvas with life.
But shadows crept into his brushstrokes too. Sometimes, when he passed by a finished painting, he noticed blurred shapes he hadn’t painted—long shadows behind the flowers, eyes hidden in the folds of the sky. And always, in the lower corner, a dark circle appeared, like a smear of soot.
Nights became restless. Khem often woke with the chilling sense of someone whispering at his ear. In dreams, hallways stretched endlessly, children’s laughter mingled with a guttural scream, and at the threshold she always appeared: the ghost woman, her blackened fingers leaving ash-marks on the floor.
-Dad…- whispered the soft voices -
-Mine - growled the specter, claiming what was not hers -
Khem woke drenched in sweat, hands flying to the swell of his stomach. It had only just begun to round, no movements yet, but the weight was constant, a living reminder. Even half-asleep, Peem always heard him. He would rise in silence, wrap his arms around Khem from behind, and murmur in a husky voice:
-You don’t sleep alone anymore. They’re here with us. I’m here with you -
One afternoon, while sorting brushes, Khem heard children’s laughter behind him. He thought it must be the Khuman spirits who guarded the house. But when he turned, the blurred silhouettes appeared in full clarity: two barefoot children, their smiles radiant.
-We hear them too - said the taller one, his voice bright, Khem pressed a hand to his belly, astonished -
-My babies? You can hear them? - Both nodded -
-They’re strong, but they’re afraid. You must protect them from the woman who walks in shadow -
Before he could ask more, they vanished, leaving behind the faint chiming of bells, as if the air itself had rung.
Khem had only ever heard about the Master’s Khuman from Jet’s stories—never seen them. How could he suddenly see them now?
Peem climbed the stairs with a tray of freshly made food, only to find his omega’s face lit with shock.
-What happened? - he asked, setting down the tray -
-I heard voices just before you came up. It was the babies, but… I also saw the Khuman - Pharan frowned deeply, unsettled -
-But you’ve never… - he stopped. The talismans, the protective necklace, all his efforts still didn’t assure him the ghost wasn’t being used by someone else - Do you know how Khuman are made, Khem? - Khem shook his head -
-They’re used for good or evil. But to create a Khuman, the soul of an unborn child is bound—often when the mother dies before they’re born. Their souls are tied. The one who becomes their master can also free them, and then they can reincarnate. That’s why I filled the house with spells. Two unborn children would be perfect prey for a sorcerer to create Khuman - Khem’s breath caught -
You think the ghost is doing this on someone’s orders? - Peem sighed -
-I don’t know. That’s why I’ve reinforced everything. As for why you could see them… I have no clear answer. You have a gift, Khem. What’s been more curse than blessing until now—few can see the souls of the dead. And I… I practice magic, as my grandfather did, and his father before him. Maybe that blood runs in our children too—genes and karma - Khem smiled faintly, taking his hand -
-You’re supposed to be the one telling me everything will be all right. But let me remind you instead: they’ll be born safe. Six months from now, they’ll be in our arms - Peem’s stern face softened -
-I believe that too. And if you ask me… something tells me they’re boys - Khem’s eyes lit up - And I bet they’ll be just as spoiled and moody as me - Peem chuckled -
-And they’ll frown exactly like their father -
Moments like this outweighed everything else. In Peem’s arms, Khem could be as tender, as spoiled, as his alpha allowed -
But whispers spread in the village. An old woman claimed to see a hunched figure by the river, hair plastered to her face, hands black as ash. Others spoke of weeping in the fields, or chickens found dead with soot marks on their feathers. Laments of a mother searching for her children. Each time, the air turned icy cold.
When the rumor reached Peem, he strengthened his prayers, wore his strongest amulet to bed, and cast protective spells over the babies. Jet and Chan no longer joked about “extra chores.” They hung amulets at every window, and Chan even slept in the next room, ready to use his gifts if needed. No one took this threat lightly. No one would touch their nephews.
And still, the shadow didn’t relent. Objects shifted on their own, paintings crashed without reason, whispers drifted through the halls. And always, as her signature, the black circle of soot appeared: on the half-built crib, in the courtyard dirt, hidden in the curtains, across the bedroom door.
One night, Khem’s scream split the silence. -Peem! The crib! -
They rushed into the nursery. The wood was clawed, as if invisible hands had torn it apart. The air stank of rot, handprints smeared the walls like filthy mud. The brand-new crib lay in splinters. Peem raised a talisman, and the shadow shrieked, dissolving into nothing.
-This time, they weren’t attacking you - Peem said grimly - They want the babies -
Chan and Jet burst in. Chan threw himself between Khem and the air, as if shielding him with his own body.
Khem clutched his belly, trembling. For the first time, the fear made sense—the ghost could be working under a sorcerer’s orders. They wanted the twins for something darker.
Peem thought the same. He wouldn’t allow anyone to touch his children. Whoever had sent this thing would pay dearly—not as a mage, but as an alpha, as a father. If he had to tear the face off whoever dared, he would.
The following days thickened with tension. In the courtyard, Peem led a ritual. The fire roared, prayers weaving into smoke. Jet and Chan stood with him in the circle, while Khem, seated behind, clutched the strongest talisman. They needed to know the ghost’s true intent. If it had to be sealed in a vessel, he would do it. If a sorcerer had to be bound, he would. Whatever it took—for Khem, for the twins.
The shadow appeared, furious, clearer than ever. Her eyes burned like coals, soot spreading beneath her feet as her tattered robes unraveled. But this time, she couldn’t cross the barrier. Peem’s voice thundered:
-You’ll never take what doesn’t belong to you! -
-Those babies are mine! - she howled, slamming against the barrier, only to be thrown back -
-Tell me whose hand commands you! - Peem roared, his face twisted in fury, instincts blazing through -
-No man bound me in life, no man shall bind me in death. What was mine will be mine again! -The entity dissolved into a freezing gale, leaving silence in her wake. Heavy silence—not victory -
Khem, exhausted, turned to Peem with tears brimming.
-They feel everything… The babies know something wants to hurt them. I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t even know if it’s really them I hear, but I feel it -
Peem gathered him tight, as if his arms could erase every evil. His chest ached at the sight of his omega’s fear, at his own helplessness. He couldn’t fail—not his mate, not his children.
-Then we’ll show them how much we’re protecting them. They can’t be afraid. Their father will do everything to keep them safe. Their father would die for them -
On the horizon, the crescent moon rose—an omen that the worst was yet to come. But within that house, every talisman and every prayer burned with one promise: this alpha would fight, against any spirit, against anyone.
The shadow might wield power, but Pharan carried more than magic. He carried rage, and a greater purpose.