It’s Your—
it’s your—
—ASHáN
Iwait until the house goes quiet. Until Sage’s breathing slows into a deep, even rhythm and Eden’s heartbeat settles into the soft, steady cadence that means she’s out cold.
A thread of shadow silently peels away from our spine, slipping beneath the blankets and winding around Eden’s stomach. The baby pulses against my darkness.
The sound of Eden’s sobs is ingrained in my mind. I cannot face her. But our daughter… our daughter needs me.
“Drink, little shadow.” I pour my essence into the shadow covering Eden’s belly, and I feel the gentlest tug on my magic while she takes what she needs.
“Hello, angel,” I hum into the dark. “It’s me. It’s your…”
Father.
Eden stirs, so I retract my shadow before her warmth can tempt me to stay. I leave them both in the quiet light of the moon. Where the monster cannot touch them.