Kafka held Abigaille and Olivia close, tears still burning at the edges of his eyes—when suddenly he felt their bodies go slack against him.
His heart stopped. He pulled back in alarm, only to see their eyes flutter shut, their heads resting limply on his shoulders as though they'd simply...fallen asleep.
"Mom? Mom!?" His voice cracked. He shook them lightly, panic rising again.
"Don't worry." Seraphina's calm, cool voice came from behind him. "It's alright. I did that."
Kafka spun around, wild-eyed. "You—what do you mean you did that? Why would you—"
"They're fine." Seraphina interrupted, her tone even but firm. "They're only asleep. I know you're relieved beyond measure to have them back, to see them look at you with love again."
"But if you keep them awake now, after everything that's happened, they'll be confused, frightened even, and you'll only end up deepening your own guilt. Let them rest. It's better this way."
