Chase barked orders. Countless of them.

  Over and over.

  The warehouse — once an empty steel husk tucked beneath the edge norther New Hampshire’s industrial zone — had become something else entirely. The ground floor looked mundane enough: dust-coated crates, rusting scaffolds, and a flickering bulb that hummed in its socket. But below it lay another world — one carved from ingenuity, madness, and the remnants of forbidden scripture.

  An elevator, disguised beneath a hollow sheet of corrugated metal, lowered into crystalline depths. The descent revealed a vast chamber lit by a single column of bluish-white light refracted endlessly through jagged quartz. The air shimmered faintly — as if the light itself carried static, or perhaps a whisper of something alive.

  Rows of devices lined the perimeter: half-built constructs, levitating conduits, containment spheres humming with sigils that flickered in languages older than reason.

  A laboratory.

  A forge.

  A holding chamber capable of suppressing magic itself.

  And in the center — a massive altar carved from the same crystal that birthed the room. Its flat, mirror-sheened surface pulsed faintly, as if breathing.

  “Chase, how goes?” Britlex asked, his voice echoing through the cavernous blue haze.

  “Quite well, my lord,” Chase replied, standing straight as a soldier at review. “We have assembled the most ideal environment according to the book. Every parameter aligns perfectly with the diagrams. The resonance fields, the mana charge conduction rates, even the harmonic oscillations match the scripture’s annotations. It should allow us to perform our… tasks successfully.”

  “Good.”

  From behind the scaffolds, a technician stumbled forward, clutching a set of schematics nearly bigger than himself. “Sir! My lord!” he called out, panting. “The extraction device—its tank—there’s a problem!”

  Chase’s expression didn’t shift, but Britlex’s eyes narrowed like blades.

  The man gulped. “For it to contain the theorized energy, we’d need compression density beyond anything on the market. You… well, you simply can’t a tank that can hold it all, frankly. The energy output—”

  “What?” Britlex snapped, his voice cracking like thunder across the crystal walls.

  The air trembled. The blue light dimmed, and a faint ring of crimson veins pulsed within the altar.

  “Do you mean to tell me,” Britlex said, stepping closer, “that we’ve come this far… and you still can’t build what I asked for?”

  The technician flinched. “It—it’s not that, sir! It’s just that at this scale, the energy’s volatile. Even with a reinforced chamber, the moment the transfer begins, the pressure would liquefy steel! It would melt through titanium like wax! We’d need something far greater in density than some of the most dense elements on earth!”

  “What’s wrong with Gervanite?” Britlex pried.

  “It’s… it would have the inverse effects. Rather than drawing from a subject, the subject would draw from it, forcing it to turn into some… well… battery, for a lack of a better word.”

  A silence fell. Chase turned slowly to Britlex. Britlex met his gaze, then with a motion sudden and precise he raised his wand. Chase’s hand shot out, grabbing Britlex’s wrist and forcing it down.

  “SIR! Sir, sir! Please, calm yourself for a second. We still have time to figure this out! We need him!”

  “I’ll kill him!” Britlex snapped.

  “No! Don’t!” Chase said, voice even but hard. He angled toward the technician. “Can you build a custom one? Infuse whatever you need to! Do whatever, but assemble a containment device to house the energy.”

  The technician swallowed.

  “—Or it’s your head, shitface!” Britlex growled, and the man flinched, then nodded and hurried away under a cloak of humming conduits and frost-smoke.

  “He didn’t even make the smile big enough! He is not dedicated whatsoever! I’ll kill him!” Britlex hissed, wrenching his fingers until the crystal altar sang.

  “Not. Yet. Sir!” Chase said, clapping his hands once as if punctuating a lesson. Britlex groaned and crossed his arms; the blue light threw hard lines across his face.

  “Please, relax. I assure you, I’ll create the proper farm as well as a flourishing environment to have the girl be ready at your side! You will be able to take down Staffire as well as any other threat that dares stand in your way!”

  “I’ll kill him… I’ll kill them all!”

  “Yes sir! You absolutely will!”

  Britlex sighed and for the first time, the whetstone edge of his temper eased into something closer to fatigue. “My apologies, Chase. Caring for Rin has been… demanding.”

  “Demanding? You’ve bested entire nations to get to this point,” Chase said. “Your longest venture was the incursion on Fort Carven. What’s this… little girl got that drains you so?”

  Britlex’s gaze flicked up. “Ever have your dreams and ambitions dangling in front of you for months on end?” he asked quietly. “You can swear you can it. Stick out your tongue and lick it.” He flicked his tongue. “It’s right there—you can reach out and grab it. But doing so… you’d let everything you’ve built fall apart.”

  Chase studied him. “…I see. I’ve no idea how you keep your lies so convincing, my lord.”

  “It’s simple, really.” Britlex’s tone darkened with a hint of satisfaction. “If you want to tell a convincing lie, you mix the truth in with it.”

  “Has she… shown any signs to confirm our doubts?” Chase asked, measuring his words.

  “If she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have ended her life long ago. Long… ago…” Britlex said, voice thick with a memory he refused to name.

  Chase stayed silent for a beat, then dared, “…Do you… want to talk about it?”

  “…I had them in my grasp, Chase. His mother, his sibling—some… miscalculations,” Britlex said, voice low but edged with regret.

  “It was too dangerous, my lord,” Chase replied carefully. “You did what needed to be done.”

  Britlex exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh. “The woman in the communicator was quite stunning. Fine. Divine, even. How did he manage to pull something like that?”

  “You speak of… Aimee?”

  “I recall that to be her name, yes.”

  “She is… abnormal,” Chase said, choosing his words like stepping over glass. “Seems fitting that only—” He stopped himself. Britlex was already squinting at him, the air tightening between them.

  “…You can have her,” Chase muttered.

  Britlex smiled faintly. “That’s what I thought.”

  Before the tension could thicken, a uniformed man rushed up to Chase, asking for directions. Chase gave quick, clipped orders, and the man scurried off.

  When the footsteps faded, Britlex spoke again, tone quieter, more reflective. “Rin has efficiently taken to ice magic.”

  “She has?” Chase asked, genuinely intrigued.

  Britlex ran a hand through his half-purple, half-orange hair, his yellow tattooed eyes dimming to thought. “She also wields a corrupted-core wand. To achieve both efficiency and complexity at her age…” He paused, glancing down at the crystal altar. “She could become a threat even most Enforcers wouldn’t be able to handle by her teens.”

  Chase flipped through the heavy book in his hands, the pages whispering in the dim blue light. “That’s… an alarming rate of progress, sir.”

  Britlex didn’t answer at once. His gaze lingered on the crystalline floor, where fragments of blue light shimmered like the surface of a frozen lake.

  “Next time I see them,” he said slowly, “I want to watch the look on their faces as I snuff their breath out—knowing their… ‘hero’ is long dead and unable to save them.”

  “Yes, sir,” Chase replied, voice steady. “I will not rest until you have your… revenge.”

  “Good. Keep at it.” Britlex’s fingers drummed once against the altar, a small, almost absent motion. “I’ll make sure she reaches her full potential soon.”

  “And what of the Grand Army? They’ve been sniffing around for too long,” Chase continued.

  “See to it that we succeed. No matter the cost.”

  “Er… yes, sir. I can investigate and find out what they have so far.”

  “What do they have on ?” Britlex cut in.

  “On… us?” Chase offered.

  “On is one thing,” Britlex said, slow and cold. “How much do they know about the contents of the lab?!”

  “As far as I can tell, it can’t be more than what we have,” Chase replied, riffling through a tablet. “Most of the files were redacted by the time we arrived—eggs in hollow shells. What could they even do with that?”

  “…Something doesn’t feel right.” Britlex’s jaw tightened. “Move on them at once. Assign a man you trust to monitor our…crazy place. I… I need to see Rin.” His voice changed—thin, urgent—the first real worry Chase had ever glimpsed on him.

  #

  Kai inspected one piece of evidence after another. He’d tap once on the holographic display of the comm-device, flip through the files, then tap again—an endless rhythm of precision and silence.

  Milo and Haas stood at attention, not even twitching as Kai processed every byte and fragment. Each of them had something to prove. Something to uncover.

  “Sire… if I may—”

  “Shut up, Vix,” Kai said sternly, not lifting his eyes from the display.

  “Yes, your Majestry…” Vix groaned, slouching forward until his elbows met his knees, one hand dragging down his face and pressing into his forehead.

  “Your Majestry… what were they trying to achieve in my fort?” Haas began.

  Kai didn’t answer. He kept flipping, tapping, and scrolling through the holographic files—each gesture sharp and mechanical.

  “Your Majestry,” Haas repeated, louder now, “perhaps you didn’t hear me. What were the scientists in my fort ?”

  Still nothing.

  “YOUR MAJESTRY!”

  “That’s enough, General,” Milo said, shifting his gaze toward Haas.

  “NO! This is

  enough! It can never be enough! I need explanations! We deserve explanations! And our Grand Majestry is keeping us in the dark!”

  Vix looked up, visibly annoyed.

  “Please lower your tone. Or else I’ll—” Milo was cut off.

  “You’ll what?! Hm? Exactly do what? You sick, twisted, brainless—”

  Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

  “General?” Kai’s voice cut clean through the air. Calm. Controlled. Not even raised.

  He didn’t look up from the file he was inspecting—didn’t need to.

  The temperature in the room seemed to drop a degree. Haas froze mid-sentence, the weight of that single word cooling his rage instantly.

  “I believe your worries… are fairly risen,” Kai said at last, his tone soft but absolute. He closed the holographic display with a flick of his wrist, the projection folding into nothing. Then he stood, the faint hum of his cloak brushing the silence that followed.

  Vix observed from a distance, silent, elbows still resting over his knees and eyes narrowed.

  “It seems the scientists were experimenting with biological synthesis between species,” Kai said at last. “Cross-genetic splicing.”

  “Cross… genetics… what?” Haas demanded, his voice rising. “What were they trying to make? What were they trying to ? With what— with what fucking animals?!”

  “Well,” Kai continued evenly, “it appears one of the species involved belonged to a group of extinct dragons.”

  “And?!”

  “…I’m not sure,” Kai admitted. “Anything could have worked, so long as it achieved satisfactory results toward their goals.”

  “To make weapons!”

  “…Indeed,” Kai replied, lowering his gaze. “To make… weapons.”

  “Gahh! I fucking knew it!” Haas shouted, clutching his head in frustration.

  “Sire, if I may,” Milo said carefully, “were you aware of this?”

  “I was.”

  “…Then why not disclose such relevant information?”

  “I had no doubt you would both be able to handle it— you and the General,” Kai answered calmly. “Plus, I needed my doubts confirmed. The only task now is to let the unfortunate creations that failed… rest in peace.”

  “I don’t understand!” Haas interjected, stepping forward. “We have seven hundred thirty-five failures! Every single one dead! Deceased! Why did that circus crew tear down my fort for… nothing?!”

  “I don’t think it was for nothing…” Kai said, turning his back to them. One hand gripped his arm as he looked upward, his tone almost somber. “It seems the terrorists found what they were looking for.”

  Vix’s ears perked up. His eyes locked on Kai.

  “They… there was a success among their terrible experiments?” Haas asked quietly.

  “There could have been.”

  “Then where’s the damn creature?!” Haas barked. “That abomination should be out there somewhere! But there’s no residuals! No DNA! No records!”

  Kai slowly turned, meeting his gaze. “What do you know of the cross-splicing that took place in your fort, Haas?”

  “Only that there were attempts to revive extinct species of dragons,” Haas said, his voice shaking slightly. “Those were my only orders, your Majestry.”

  Kai’s eyes drifted to Vix, who was already on his feet, posture tense.

  “Your Majestry,” Vix said, his tone low but firm. “What the hell did they make in that lab?”

  “…I… I’m afraid I don’t know, Commander,” Kai said, his voice faltering.

  Vix clicked his tongue, fists tightening at his sides. “There’s a theoretically dangerous entity out there somewhere doing god knows what. I need to assemble a team and catch it before shit hits the fan!”

  “Shall I call on the twins, sir?” Milo suggested.

  “No. Not yet,” Kai interjected.

  All three men turned to him.

  “We don’t know what they crossed to successfully create that creature,” Kai continued. “We don’t even know if one exists—or if it’s already fallen into the hands of the terrorists. Based on the evidence, we can only be certain of one thing: they carry knowledge on how to the lost work from Fort Carven.”

  “There are too many variables at play here—and countless civilian lives on the line!” Haas barked.

  “Indeed,” Kai said. “We’ll need to divide and conquer. That’s the only sensible course of action.”

  “Your orders, Sire?” Milo asked calmly.

  “Milo, please—”

  The door to the Majestry’s grand study swung open with a sharp echo. Footsteps followed—measured, precise—each clack resonating with purpose.

  “Your Majestry! Captain Chase Helixus reporting for duty, Sire!”

  Chase gave a crisp salute, his voice steady, his expression quite jolly.

  “Ah! Chase! Get over here, now!” Haas demanded.

  Chase approached the table in a swift stride, stopping beside the holo-display.

  “Milo. Commander.” He nodded respectfully to each. “It’s great to see you again.”

  Milo gave a brief nod in return. Vix responded with a small, half-hearted wave—already annoyed.

  “Oh! The commander is in a bad mood today… sorry! Don’t mind me!” Chase said nervously.

  “I’m sending you a briefing now,” Haas said, tapping rapidly at his communicator. “Inspect it and assemble a squad to investigate.”

  “Yes, sir!” Chase replied, holding out his own communicator to receive the transmission.

  “There’s a terrorist organization that attacked my fort several months ago,” Haas continued. “Most importantly, they ran off with intelligence of the highest degree—and I need to know what it was!”

  Chase blinked. “Fort… Carven, sir?”

  “Yes!” Haas snapped. “Get yourself a squad and find out what the hell those bastards want with my science team! Most of them turned into casualties anyway, but read the briefing so you know what you’re dealing with—and I ”

  “Y-Yes, sir!” Chase said quickly before bolting out of the room. His footsteps echoed through the corridor, followed by his voice barking orders down the hall.

  “How efficient,” Vix muttered, dismissive.

  Milo remained silent, not even glancing his way.

  “That should clear our hands for now,” Haas said, crossing his arms. “He’s notoriously credible when it comes to offensive investigative work. We can focus on more pressing matters this way.”

  “You’re right,” Kai replied. “General—please continue coordinating and hashing out any new findings. Milo, accompany the General or provide backup to Helixus. I trust your judgment there.”

  “Yes, your Majestry,” Milo and Haas said in unison before turning on their heels and leaving the chamber—leaving Vix and Kai alone in the quiet hum of the study.

  Once the doors closed shut, Vix folded his arms and finally spoke.

  “…I see you still haven’t decided to tell them.”

  “Vix, please!” Kai snapped, sharper than he intended.

  Vix let out a long sigh. “I’m done worrying over you,” he said quietly. “I get it now. Only… I’ve just been tasked to worry for the next ten years instead.”

  “Only you’re strong enough to do so, Vix.”

  “Right,” Vix muttered. “But what about ? What about after?”

  Kai’s gaze softened. “That’s not for me to decide… or to say.”

  Vix shook his head slowly, his tail flicking once in quiet frustration. “I just hope you’re right.”

  “Everything needs to be done one step at a time, Vix.”

  “That’s how

  lives, your Majestry,” Vix replied. “That’s… just not how I could ever live.”

  “…You worry for the girl?” Kai asked, glancing over at him. A faint smile tugged at his lips.

  Vix sighed. “…Earlier, you called me Is that supposed to mean something?”

  “It might,” Kai said.

  Vix shook his head with a small chuckle. Kai tossed Vix’s communicator back at him; Vix caught it effortlessly.

  “Is it that bad?” Vix asked.

  “I meant it when I said I didn’t know.”

  “Oh, so you were just bullshitting about that cross-splicing stuff?”

  “…Yeah,” Kai admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head as he let out a nervous laugh.

  Vix laughed in return, shaking his head. “Well, what are you running them in circles for, then? Let’s just go get that clown group and bring them in.” He slipped the communicator into his pocket, smirking faintly.

  Kai gripped the edge of his table and leaned over it, staring into the empty space beyond his desk. “There are some discrepancies I can’t piece together. They’re not so simple as to warrant arresting a couple of clowns and throwing them into cells.”

  “…Go on?” Vix asked, stepping closer.

  “For example,” Kai continued, “the last recorded activity from the group was during the week of Halloween—six months ago. Then there’s the lack of residuals in the escape of Milo’s attacker. Or even their ultimate intent with the assault on the fort. Most of the scientists are confirmed casualties—none missing. One could assume they have enough brainpower not to warrant recruiting more. So, assuming they

  attempting to mass-produce an army of ace-class biological weapons, they’re handicapped regardless.”

  “It would be as General Haas said—too many variables, Sire.”

  “At first observation, yes,” Kai replied. “But I need them to keep digging. The more they uncover, the clearer the bigger picture becomes.”

  Vix exhaled. “What do you need me to do? And please don’t try to hook me up with another woman. That was… an intense experience.”

  Kai stayed silent for a moment, his gaze locked on nothing. Then his eyes widened slightly. “…I’m mistaken,” he said softly. “I’ve been operating under the assumption that the organization has yet to achieve their goals. But what if their radio silence is they already have?”

  “…Sire?” Vix tilted his head.

  “…I should’ve let you keep your communicator,” Kai muttered, straightening. “We need to get in touch with the Directors of Kormadyne. Now.”

  Vix blinked, then swiftly pulled out his communicator and began dialing a contact. “I know just who to call.”

  #

  “DIRECTOR CANNUS, YOU SWIFT, SKUNK-TAILED BASTARD!

  Inside, Directors Cannus, Samuel, and Erny froze mid-discussion, their heads snapping toward the intrusion.

  “Benneth?! What in the hell is the meaning of this!”

  “How you!” Benneth shouted, storming up to Cannus’s towering frame and jabbing his cane hard into his chest. “Just what the hell were you thinking?!”

  Cannus blinked, taking a wary step back from the sudden commotion. “Care to enlighten me?!”

  “You gave the girl a father without my supervision?!” Benneth spat.

  “I gave her

  period!” Cannus shot back. “She is no longer a liability I have to ignore! Shouldn’t you be thanking me for my generosity?!”

  “To hell with your generosity! You don’t even that man to begin with!”

  Cannus’s eyes twitched from unyielding rage—but then, his expression shifted, as if something had just clicked.

  “Benneth…” he said slowly. “Don’t tell me… this is for you, isn’t it?”

  “What? Blasphemy!” Benneth barked. “It is my duty to ensure the well-being of every student in this academy—unique circumstances or not!”

  “No…” Cannus said in a low, menacing voice. “I understand exactly what’s going on.”

  Benneth frowned. “What are you implying?”

  “You’ve to the girl,” Cannus sneered. “She’s a new project for you, isn’t she?”

  “Absolutely not! What vulgar claims are you spouting, Cannus?!”

  “I know you, Benneth!” Cannus snapped. “You and that charity of a hobby you call ‘guidance.’ That’s all this was to you—a game. A way to waste time. You are a disgraceful old cur, and frankly, I’ve decided to suffer you no longer.”

  Benneth slammed his cane down with a crack that echoed through the chamber. “What on earth are you you slimy dog?!”

  “I believe it is in the best interest of the Hammer and this academy,” Cannus said coldly, “that you… resign.”

  “…Resign?” Benneth repeated, deadpan—then suddenly broke into a fit of laughter that echoed across the chamber.

  Cannus stood motionless, unamused.

  “You can’t remove me from the Hammer!” Benneth barked, wiping a tear from his eye. “As as you make it sound, there needs to be a unanimous vote of all five directors in agreement for removal—including me! No arguments to the Headmaster’s rules.”

  “You might be correct there…” Cannus said, lips curling. “So we voted to disregard that rule.”

  “…Huh?” Benneth froze.

  “That’s right.” Cannus lifted his comm-device, tapping the screen to display the glowing seal of the Academy’s amended texts. “With Ray’s favor, we proceeded to update the Academy House Charter. Now, you only need four votes.”

  “…No… no, this isn’t right!” Benneth’s voice cracked, disbelief written across his face.

  “Yes it is, Benneth,” Cannus replied, lowering the device. “You are no longer a Director. Get out.”

  “I will—no. What about the girl! She’s shown evidence that—”

  “Fire Bolt?” Cannus interrupted. “At her age, casting such an advanced spell might place her above the majority here, sure—but that hardly proves she’s a mana link to Staffire or Nepton. She’s… painfully normal.”

  “Her father is a menace!” Benneth snapped.

  “Now you’re just spouting nonsense.”

  “…It was worth a shot,” Benneth muttered under his breath.

  “Master Arthur is a man of dignity and resolve,” Cannus continued. “He’s suffered far too long—and that too without his only child. The man served in the battle against the GNL and was trapped for a decade within their magical domain. I think he’s earned the right to reconnect with his daughter.

  “As for …” Cannus’s tone hardened. “You hardly have the right to interfere—let alone entertain the thought of doing so. Guards!”

  "But the girl—”

  "Benneth, I don't care." Cannus cut him off with a smirk.

  Two knights stepped forward, their armor clanking as they hooked their arms beneath Benneth’s and began to drag him toward the door.

  “Oh, to hell with this! I know the way out just fine!” Benneth barked, jerking his arms free from their grip.

  “We apologize, sir,” one of the knights said softly. “It is in the nature of our calling.”

  “…I understand,” Benneth grumbled, straightening his coat before storming out as the doors sealed shut behind him.

  Back in the Pinnacle Room—

  “This was long in the making,” Erny said, crossing his arms.

  “Right. Big thorn removed from our sides,” Samuel added.

  “Let’s keep moving,” Cannus finished, folding his hands behind his back. “Once that girl is out of this academy, it will be perfect. Then we can finally focus on more pressing matters.”

  #

  It was a cool midnight — clear skies, the stars twinkling like scattered fragments of glass. A bright moon poured its light through the small window of Rin’s dorm, painting faint silver lines across the floor.

  Chippy was deeply asleep, softly murmuring in her dreams. But Rin couldn’t find her own rest.

  Rin turned in her bed, her back facing the room as she pulled the blanket over her head. Beneath the covers, she fished out her small communicator — the one she wasn’t supposed to use after hours. Her thumb hovered over the dial.

  A hesitant breath. Then she pressed it.

  She sniffled as the line began to ring. Once. Then again. Then a third time.

  The connection hummed to life.

  “Hello? Are you there, Rin?”

  Despite the distance, his soft voice carried through the communicator — warm and gentle. Rin immediately sank deeper into her mattress, her tension melting away.

  “Y-Yes… I’m here…” she whispered.

  “There you are,” Steve said, his tone light with relief. “What’s going on, love? Shouldn’t you be asleep? It’s quite late, you know. And on a weekday night?”

  “I… I just wanted to talk to you… I-I couldn’t sleep…”

  “Ohh, don’t give me that!” He chuckled, voice playfully stern. “I may not have been there for the majority of your childhood, but I know your voice. I know your heart. Something’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

  “N-No! I just missed you! I promise!”

  “Rin.”

  His tone shifted — firmer, parental. And Rin couldn’t help but smile.

  “Y-Yeah… it’s… Uncle Remmy…”

  “Oh yeah? You told me he’s a good man. Is he alright?”

  “He is… he just… he yelled at me.”

  “Yelled at you?” Steve asked with mock surprise. “Did you do something mischievous again?” His laugh carried that familiar teasing lilt she’d missed so much.

  “No I didn’t!” Rin giggled. “It’s just… he got worried for me… I think… he doesn’t like that you’re my dad.”

  There was a pause. Not long — but long enough for Rin to notice.

  “Hm… doesn’t like me, you say?” Steve asked finally. His voice was calm, but there was something deeper beneath it — a stillness she couldn’t name. “Would I have done something wrong?”

  “No! Not at all!” Rin said quickly. “There’s not a thing you’ve done that could make anyone so angry! I’m so happy you’re here, Dad. He… I guess he just doesn’t see it that way…”

  “…Do you want to come home, baby?”

  “What!” Rin exclaimed in a whisper before quickly turning to check if Chippy was still asleep. She was.

  “I-I don’t know! My—my friends are still here… Eddie and Chippy…”

  “If you need to leave the academy, you just tell me and I’ll come pick you up,” Steve said, his tone growing more eager. “I was homeschooled, you know? I can teach you the curriculum myself!”

  Rin hesitated, thinking about it. There really wasn’t anything here for her. Mister Vix had told her off. She was nothing more than a mission to him. Uncle Remmy didn’t trust her life being normal despite it clearly being so… She could still keep in touch with Eddie and Chippy, couldn’t she? Nothing was stopping her. Nothing was holding her here.

  “…Can I really leave?” she asked softly.

  “Yes, you can,” he replied. “Just say the word, and I’ll be there first thing tomorrow morning.”

  Rin held her breath, as if she were hiding from the world itself. Her eyes drifted toward the moonlight spilling through the window. She thought about it — really thought about it.

  “…I think I want to come home, Dad…”

  “Alright,” Steve said gently. “I’ll come get you. Go to sleep now. You need it to grow.”

  “Yes, Dad. I will.”

  “I love you, baby. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Dad…” Rin whispered, smiling so brightly her cheeks hurt.