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|| ITS STARTING || CHAPTER 30
IT STARTED WITH THE SMALLEST things.
Nyx wasn't one to get sick easily, but the mornings became difficult. The scent of fresh coffee turned her stomach. Spells that once came effortlessly drained her faster than usual. Tom noticed, of course. He always noticed.
At first, he didn't say anything—just watched, observed, tucked her hair behind her ear when she leaned over the sink, running cool water over the back of her neck.
But one morning, when she tried to hide the nausea and pretend nothing was wrong, he had enough.
"Sit down, Nyx."
She frowned at him from across the kitchen. "I'm fine."
Tom raised an eyebrow. "Are you?" He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, head tilting slightly. "Because I'd rather not have you collapsing on me."
She scowled, but when a fresh wave of dizziness hit, she relented, sinking into a chair with a sigh.
Tom, without a word, placed a hand on her stomach, the same way he had the night she told him. He closed his eyes, magic thrumming between them, searching, confirming. When he finally opened them, there was something in his expression—something softer.
"They're strong.", he murmured.
Nyx blinked. "They?"
Tom smirked slightly. "Plural, darling."
She stared at him, her breath catching. "Twins?"
His smirk widened. "You should have told me we were having an army."
She laughed, despite herself, shoving his shoulder lightly. He caught her wrist, kissed the inside of it. "You need to rest more.", he told her, quieter now.
"You're going to be annoying about this, aren't you?"
"Absolutely."
AS NYX'S BODY CHANGED, SO DID the world around them.
Their group had always been powerful—young, brilliant, ambitious beyond reason. But now, they were something else.
They no longer hid.
Damien, Rodrick, Nicholas, Abraxas—they had all graduated with them, and together, they began moving their plans forward. The world would bend for them. The old ways would return.
It started with whispers in the dark, meetings held in secret. The Death Eaters—were forming.
One evening, Nyx sat curled in a chair by the fire, watching as the others debated over their latest recruitment efforts. Tom stood at the head of it all, his voice smooth, controlled.
"We need more than power.", he was saying. "Loyalty is what will build this."
"And fear.", Rodrick added, eyes glinting.
Tom barely spared him a glance. "Fear without devotion is weak. We need both."
Nyx hummed from her chair. "And how do you intend to secure that, love?"
Tom's gaze flickered to her, and though he remained composed, she saw it—the way his eyes softened just slightly when he looked at her.
"By making them believe in something greater."
His voice carried through the room, and for a moment, there was silence. Then, Damien grinned. "Well, we do have the most convincing leader."
Abraxas smirked. "And his terrifying wife-to-be."
Nyx snorted, shaking her head. "I'd say Tom is more terrifying."
"Mm—", Abraxas leaned back, swirling his drink. "But you? You're mysterious. People trust you."
She tilted her head, thoughtful. It was true. She had always balanced Tom's presence, softened it when needed, sharpened it when necessary. And now, with the life growing inside her, she felt her power shift—become something deeper, something older.
Tom must have sensed it too, because later that night, as they lay in bed, he traced his hand over the curve of her stomach and murmured, "They'll worship you one day."
Nyx smiled sleepily, fingers brushing through his dark hair. "Who, the world or our children?"
Tom smirked against her skin. "Both."
THE NIGHT WAS THICK WITH magic. The air itself felt charged, alive, humming with something ancient.
They stood in a circle, deep in the woods, candlelight flickering across their faces. It was the final step. They had bound themselves in loyalty before, but this was different. This was deeper.
Tom held the ritual dagger, its silver blade gleaming under the moon. "We do not swear lightly.", he intoned, his voice carrying through the silence.
One by one, they each extended a hand. A single cut—small, precise. Their blood mixed together, suspended in the air by magic.
Nyx watched as Tom turned to her last.
She met his gaze, unwavering, and without hesitation, she offered her hand. The blade barely stung, but the power that surged through her when their blood joined was intoxicating.
As the ritual completed, Tom's hand closed over hers.
"We are bound.", he murmured.
A chill ran down her spine. Not from fear. From certainty.
This was the beginning of something unstoppable.
Despite the growing darkness, there were still soft moments.
One afternoon, as summer began to fade, Nyx lay stretched out on the couch, a book resting on her stomach. Tom sat nearby, reading something old and worn, but his eyes kept drifting to her.
"Something on your mind?" she asked, amused.
Tom closed his book and stood, moving to sit beside her. He reached out, fingers tracing gentle circles over her stomach. "They're moving."
Nyx smiled, placing her hand over his. "They do that a lot now."
Tom didn't speak for a long moment, just watched as her belly shifted slightly beneath his touch. Then, quietly, he said, "I never thought I would have this."
Nyx turned her head, studying him. "Do you regret it?"
He looked at her then, truly looked at her, and there was something raw in his expression. He shook his head. "No." He leaned down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her stomach. "Never."
Nyx swallowed past the warmth in her throat, fingers threading through his hair.
For all the power, all the darkness, all the ambitions they held—this, this was something neither of them had expected.
And somehow, it was the most powerful thing of all.
