Two months. In just two months, Alpheo would finally lay eyes on his firstborn, a child destined to carry his blood and his legacy into the future. The thought filled him with a mix of exhilaration and nervous energy that refused to be quelled, no matter how much he tried to distract himself with his duties. He had always dreamed of becoming a father, whether in the life he had left behind or the one he now lived. The notion of guiding a young soul, of seeing a part of himself reflected in the eyes of another, had always been a quiet but persistent longing.
Now, that dream was about to become reality. The knowledge that his child would soon take their first breath in this world made his heart feel as though it were caught between a roaring tide and the steady beat of a war drum. A strange warmth filled him, perhaps the primal joy that came with the understanding that life was about to be created, not merely in a general sense, but his life—an extension of himself .
