The light holding Selene dims, a frail curtain against the stark white of the temple chamber. She stands before them, a ghost barely tethered, her form thinned to almost nothing. The air itself feels cold where her essence flickers, the scent of roses and rain faint, almost gone. Her voice, when it comes, is a whisper that still silences the five Lords. "You poured your power into her," she says, her eyes, once vibrant, now like pools of grey water. "All of you. Kael's fire, Lucian's shadow, Elias's light, Aeron's storm, Orion's time. You gave her everything, to save her. To make her strong enough to live, even as I died." A faint, sad smile touches her lips, gone as quickly as it appears. Her hand, translucent, gestures around the room, encompassing them all. Kael watches her, his gaze fixed on the fading light, the memory of his own power coursing through an unborn child a sudden, sharp ache in his ancient heart. Elias shifts, a low sound escaping him, his hands clenching, desperate to reach for her, to hold onto the last echo of what he lost. Aeron stands rigid, the casual ease stripped from him, replaced by a raw, devastating grief that threatens to unravel the air around them. Lucian feels the profound truth of her words, the unyielding barrier around Elara suddenly making terrible sense. Orion simply observes, his mind mapping the impossible lines of prophecy and reality, the fabric of time reweaving itself before his eyes. "That power, unbound, would have consumed her," Selene continues, her voice growing fainter, like a distant echo. "She was too small, too fragile. So I sealed it. Each drop of your divinity, locked away behind my own soul, deep within her blood. And then I hid her. From the world, from those who would take her, from all of you. For eight years, I kept her safe, burning away a piece of myself each time, just to keep the wards strong." She sways, a shimmer, then steadies herself with visible effort. Her eyes, filled with an ancient weariness, fall upon Lucian, then sweep to the other Lords. "This is the last," she breathes, her form almost transparent now. "The last gift. The last truth. There is nothing left. Not for me. But for her, there is everything. She needs you now. More than ever before." The scent of rain and roses fades completely, replaced by cold, still air. She looks at each of them, her gaze piercing, before her eyes settle on the small, still form on the bed. --- Selene raises a hand, a gesture of profound love, not quite reaching the child on the bed. "This is your daughter," she says, her voice a thread, almost unheard. Kael feels a primal roar tear through his throat, silent, suffocating. Aeron falls to one knee, a single, hot tear tracing a path down his cheek. Elias drops his head, his shoulders shaking with a silent, overwhelming grief and adoration. Orion’s gaze fixes on Elara, the future suddenly bright, terrifyingly clear. Lucian’s hand clenches, the weight of the silver necklace heavy in his palm, a silent promise forming in his heart. --- Elara's eyelids flutter. The soft cotton beneath her cheek feels strange. Not rough straw. Not cold floor. She pushes herself up a little, her bandaged hand aching, but the fire is gone from it. Everything is white. The walls, the sheets, even the tall, quiet men who are all looking at her. So many of them. They are too big. They are all kneeling, not standing, but they are still too big. Their shoulders are wide and dark. Their faces are all looking at her. She does not know them. She has never seen so many men in one room who were not shouting. Her breath catches, a tiny, silent sound. Her eyes dart around the room. She needs to find a place. Under the bed. Behind a chair. Anywhere. Her gaze lands on the door, a dark, rectangular shape at the far side of the room. It is closed. It is the only thing that matters, the only way out. She pushes herself back against the pillows, making herself as small as she can. Her eyes stay fixed on the door, planning, always planning. The men do not move. They do not speak. They just watch her, silent and still. It feels like a trap. All the air in the room feels too heavy, too thick to breathe. She tastes dust, even though the room is clean. She needs to get to the door. --- A shadow detaches itself from the cluster of big men. It moves slowly, a whisper of dark fabric. It is the man from the forest, the one with the shiny eyes. He stops beside her bed, then lowers himself, slowly, until he is on one knee beside the bed. His black coat spreads on the white floor like spilled ink. He is still big, even kneeling. He lifts one hand, slowly, carefully, as if she might break. His fingers are long and pale. He does not touch her. His eyes, dark like stones, look into hers. He says a word, a soft sound, but she does not understand it. He tries again, his voice low, like a rumble in the ground. “Are you frightened?” he asks, the words clear this time. His head tilts, waiting for an answer. Elara shakes her head, then stops. Her throat feels tight. She remembers the big man with the shiny eyes, the one who looked at her with a knowing glint, who spoke to the other men in a voice that carried. She remembers the word he said. Her voice comes out as a harsh whisper, like dry leaves. “You told them to take me.” Lucian freezes. He told them to take her. His face a mask, he couldn't respond. Her words hung, a devastating accusation. Behind him, Selene’s light flickered. It shimmered, then dimmed, almost to nothing. One last, brief spark. Then, it was gone.

This Is Our Daughter