Light of the Dawn | Azriel |

35. Light of the Dawn

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow through the windows of Isarella's dream cottage. She stood in the cozy living room, her emerald eyes scanning the space she now called home. Feyre was by her side, carefully arranging a vase of fresh lilacs on the mantle while Isarella admired the painting that hung above the hearth. It was a masterpiece—Feyre's gift to her. The image captured Isarella and Azriel holding their little girl, standing outside the cottage surrounded by lilac fields. The vibrant colors and tender details mirrored Isarella's vision, a dream that had guided her through many sleepless nights.

"It's breathtaking, Fey. I love how the colors make it feel alive," Isarella murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

Feyre smiled warmly. "I'm glad you love it. It feels like the perfect finishing touch for your home."

Isarella nodded, her hand absently brushing over her pregnant belly. "It really does. Everything feels perfect." She paused, then added with a soft laugh, "I'm going to make some tea. Would you like a cup?"

Feyre set down the vase and gave her a knowing look. "I'd love one, but I'm coming with you."

Isarella laughed as she moved toward the kitchen. "I'm perfectly capable of making tea, Fey. I'm not going to go into labor getting—" Her words cut off abruptly, and she froze, her eyes wide with alarm.

Feyre rushed to her side. "What is it? Are you okay?"

Isarella looked down at the sudden wetness pooling at her feet. She clutched Feyre's arm as a sharp contraction ripped through her. "My water just broke," she whispered, panic flickering across her face.

Feyre's expression mirrored her own—a mixture of excitement and worry. "Alright, alright, we've got this. Rhys!" she called, and within moments, Rhysand appeared in the doorway, his violet eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

"It's time?" he asked, his voice steady but laced with urgency.

Isarella nodded, wincing as another contraction gripped her. "Where's Azriel?" she gasped.

"He's on his way. We'll get you to the House of Wind, and Madja will take care of everything," Rhys assured her as he moved to support her. Feyre stayed on her other side, both of them helping Isarella out of the house.

The world spun as Rhys winnowed them directly to the House of Wind. Isarella cried out as another contraction hit, her knees nearly buckling from the intensity. The sound of pounding footsteps echoed down the hallway, and suddenly Azriel was there, his golden eyes wide with panic and determination.

"Let's move, people! My mate is having a baby!" he barked, taking Isarella's hand and pressing a kiss to her sweat-dampened brow.

They helped her into their old room, where Madja and her assistants were already waiting. The midwife's calm demeanor was a balm to Isarella's frayed nerves.

"Alright, Isarella," Madja said with a reassuring smile. "Let's bring this baby into the world."

Isarella lay back on the bed, Azriel at her side, his hand never leaving hers. Rhys took her other hand, his grip steady even as she squeezed with a strength that made him wince. Feyre hovered nearby, her presence a comforting reminder that Isarella wasn't alone.

The hours passed in a haze of pain and effort. Sweat plastered Isarella's golden hair to her forehead, and tears blurred her emerald eyes. Azriel pressed kisses to her temple, whispering words of encouragement.

"You're so strong, love. You've got this. Just a little more," he murmured, his voice a steady anchor in the storm.

Madja's voice broke through the haze. "I can see the head! You're almost there, Isarella. One more big push!"