"…Let's say my family," Loki, the demigod, voiced.
The fire dimmed inside the tent. Not the real fire—just the sense of warmth it gave. The moment that word left Loki's mouth, the atmosphere shifted. Something ancient turned its head.
Atlas stood up right away. Not slowly, not dramatically—he just rose. Instinct. The mention of Loki's family wasn't idle. Not in a world like theirs. And definitely not after everything that had happened.
Aurora stopped mid-breath. Her eyes went to Atlas, then back to Loki.
Atlas's voice was low, clenched. "Aurora... is it because of…"
She bit her lip. A hesitation. A fracture.
"…I know.. my master... but…"
But that wasn't the point, was it? The words came like splinters, failing to cover a deeper fear. A fear she couldn't yet name.
