Creed turned his gaze to Anita. It wasn't a piercing look; it was a heavy one, as if he were reading the very fabric of her soul. "Children are closer to the veil, Anita. Especially children born of blood and magic. Nero doesn't see with his eyes; he sees with the bond. He sees the soul that was meant to be here from the start."
Anita shook her head, her hands trembling. "I wasn't meant to be here. I was... I was someone else. I died in a different world."
"Did you?" Creed asked, his voice soft but resonant. "Or did the Moon Goddess simply move a piece across the board to save a dying line? You think you transmigrated into a random time, but look around you. Look at the connection with the Alpha. Look at the boy on your lap."
Nero stopped drawing and looked up, his expression suddenly very serious. "The bad men wanted a puppet, Mama. They wanted a mama who didn't have a soul. But the Mage brought a 'fire-soul' from far away. To burn them."
