Catherine stumbled into the hall, each step trembling as though the very floor beneath her had become unstable. Her chest heaved, lungs burning, teeth clenched against the panic that surged inside her. The walls of the house seemed too close, the shadows bending in ways they had never before. Every corner whispered, every echo carried more than sound. She had not breathed for what felt like hours, though the clock ticked steadily, unchanging.
Kelvin stood near the center of the hall, impossibly still. The calm in his posture was disquieting, unnatural. It was the kind of stillness that comes only when someone has accepted a choice and embraced its consequences — a quiet that makes others quake before it even speaks.
"I saw them," Catherine said, words clipped, her voice shaking. "They… they were here. Selene… and him… they met."
Kelvin's gaze remained fixed somewhere above her, not on her, not on the hall, but beyond, as if he were seeing a plane of existence she could not touch.
"They met?" His voice was soft, measured, almost cruel in its detachment.
"Yes," Catherine said, her voice cracking. "They met and… and everything changes! I—I can't—Oh God, I can't let her die. I can't… I beg you, Calvin—don't let her die. Please, I can't…" Her words tumbled out in a desperate rush, each syllable weighted with fear, disbelief, and anguish.
Kelvin finally turned to her, slow and deliberate, a faint shadow of a smile curling at the edge of his lips. "You don't need to worry," he said, quiet but absolute. "She isn't even our daughter."
The words struck like ice. Catherine's eyes widened. Her knees nearly gave way. Her hands clenched into fists, nails biting into palms. The hallway seemed to tilt. The air thickened, the hum of some hidden energy vibrating faintly under her skin.
"You're saying… what?" Catherine whispered, disbelief making her voice tremble.
"She's no longer ours," Kelvin repeated. No explanation. No justification. Just the finality of truth.
Catherine staggered back, every instinct screaming against the words. Shock rooted her feet to the floor for a heartbeat too long. The walls felt farther, the ceiling closer. She had expected strategy, cold calculation, even cruelty — but not this. Not the severing of something she had never held, yet thought she did.
The house seemed to breathe with her confusion. Shadows stretched and shrank across the walls in rhythm with her pulse. The air carried a strange weight, a reminder that this place, this hall, had witnessed countless choices before her own and would witness countless more after.
Catherine's lips moved, forming words that never came. The sense of powerlessness crushed against her chest. She had trained, controlled, manipulated… but here, here was something beyond her reach.
Kelvin did not move. He did not reach for her. He only watched, quiet, a sentinel of inevitability. In that silence, Catherine felt the fracture grow.
Then, without another word, she turned and stumbled out of the hall, leaving him standing amidst the shadows. The air seemed to settle once she was gone, yet a tension lingered — a prelude to the storms yet to come.
—
Selene sat quietly on the edge of the bed in their small, dimly lit room. Curtains drawn, shadows pooling in corners, the world outside muted, irrelevant. Her fingers drummed lightly on her knees. Her body, trained from years past, knew discipline and strategy, but her new powers, untested and strange, pulsed unpredictably beneath her skin. She was aware of them, their latent hunger, their strange, almost sentient, responsiveness—but she had yet to learn how to command them.
Robert leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his calm the counterbalance to the undercurrent of energy in the room. His presence was steady, controlled, yet there was intensity in his gaze that Selene could not ignore.
"We're preparing for battle," she said softly, almost to herself. "That much is obvious."
Robert's eyes narrowed fractionally. "Yes."
Selene exhaled slowly, a breath meant to steady herself as much as the room. "What I don't understand," she said, meeting his eyes, "is the nature of what we're dealing with. I can feel it. The shadows, the whispers… but the whole of it—what it really is—I can't grasp yet."
Robert studied her carefully, as if weighing her words against what he knew. "There's more than one threat," he said at last. "Some you can see, some you can't. Some have intentions that are obvious, others… subtle, woven into the world."
Selene let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Figures. Nothing ever comes simple."
She rose, pacing once before stopping near the window. The moonlight traced her reflection faintly across the glass. For a moment, her mirrored self did not move when she did, as if the reflection had a mind of its own. She blinked; it returned. But the sensation lingered—a reminder that her powers, her perception, were only beginning to awaken.
"I'm not helpless," she said finally, the words firm. "I can fight. I always have. But this… this is different. My body knows the motions, my instincts know the rhythms, but these… powers," she flexed her fingers, feeling the faint hum beneath her skin, "they don't answer yet. They are wild. And I have to learn them quickly."
Robert's expression softened fractionally, understanding but offering no easy reassurance. "You're aware of it, that's the first step. Awareness is everything."
Selene turned, walking toward him. "And if I lose control?"
"You won't," he said quietly, not with certainty, but with faith in her. "Not if you stay focused. Not if you trust yourself."
Outside, the night deepened. The shadows shifted subtly, stretching along walls and corners, reaching for places unseen, for hearts unguarded. The wind whispered against the windowpane, carrying scents and hints of dangers that had not yet come into view. Selene could feel it all—the currents of power, the pull of threats, the rhythm of an unseen, lurking presence.
She met Robert's gaze, fierce and unyielding. "Then let them be scared."
Robert's lips quirked slightly, acknowledging her defiance. The room held its breath with them, aware of the tension, aware of what was growing just beyond reach.
And somewhere between what Selene was, what she could be, and what she would have to become, the balance of power was already tilting, quietly, imperceptibly — but unmistakably.