The four mates exchanged glances, wordless communication passing between them at lightning speed.
The air in the nursery thrummed with a tension that felt almost sentient. The crimson light from Nova's eyes had softened to a pulsing ember-glow, but it still cast long, trembling shadows across the walls, as though the sigils themselves were breathing.
Samantha's heartbeat was an echo of that rhythm—wild, uneven, terrified. She had faced monsters before. She had been one. But this—this was her daughter, and something ancient was looking out through her daughter's eyes.
Marcus's voice broke the silence first, low and steady, every syllable measured like he was addressing an unpredictable predator. "You said you're here to ensure she survives. What does that mean, exactly?"
