Chapter 341 – "The Call That Stayed Too Long"
Late Night
The house had gone still.
Moonlight crept in thin silver beams through the curtains, brushing against the edge of Alex's bed. The others had already returned to their symbols or gone to sleep. Even the magical resonance in the house had quieted to a low hum.
His phone buzzed once.
[Alice – Incoming Call]
He smiled and picked up.
"Alice."
"Did you miss me?" her voice chimed playfully, the background filled with soft static and the hum of city lights.
"I always do," Alex said. "You don't call often anymore."
"Well, someone's been busy collecting girls from his childhood like trading cards," she teased.
Alex laughed. "That's not fair."
"Isn't it? Reyne. Hanabi. Vira. Even Mary." A pause. "You've got a real type, huh?"
"I don't—wait, Mary?"
"Mmhm," Alice replied with a grin he could hear. "I've met most of them now. I work with Mom and Dad, remember? Demon hunting gets you into interesting places."
Alex sat up. "You didn't tell me that."
"Surprise. I don't go home much anymore. Kind of feels like the world's moving faster without me."
"You could've visited," he said.
"You could've asked."
He paused.
Then said quietly, "You're always welcome here."
"Yeah," she replied. "I know."
A gentle silence fell between them. Not awkward — just full of words that neither knew how to say.
Then she spoke again, softer this time:
"They're all beautiful, you know. Powerful. Dangerous in the best way. The kind of girls who could rewrite your future."
He smiled faintly. "You make them sound like a prophecy."
"Maybe they are," she said. "But…"
A pause.
"I wonder if any of them loved you longer than I did."
Alex blinked.
"What?"
"Nothing," Alice replied quickly, her tone light again. "Just teasing."
But the silence that followed wasn't teasing.
And the call lingered a few seconds longer than it should have.
"Anyway," she added finally, "I should sleep. Big job tomorrow."
"Alice—"
"Goodnight, Alex."
Click.
The line went dead.
Alex stared at the phone.
Then slowly placed it on his desk, the quiet weight of her last words echoing faintly in his mind.
From Alice's perspective – Her Room, Midnight
The city outside was quiet.
Not dead. Just sleeping.
Alice sat alone by the window of her small room above the hunter's office — moonlight catching on the silver lining of the blade leaning against her desk, the same one her father gave her when she turned sixteen.
Her phone rested on the nightstand.
Still warm from the call.
She hadn't turned off the screen.
Alex's name glowed softly on the log — a name she'd dialed a hundred times and deleted a thousand more before pressing call tonight.
"…You're always welcome here," he'd said.
She pulled her knees to her chest, chin resting lightly atop them.
"Stupid…"
Her voice was barely a whisper.
She let the silence linger.
Then murmured—
"I wonder if any of them loved you longer than I did…"
Her eyes closed tightly.
"Of course they did. Of course they'll love you louder. Braver."
She reached for the ribbon in her hair — a soft white one, always tied a bit too tight — and slowly undid it.
The tension left her shoulders.
But the ache stayed.
"I'm just your sister."
Her hand curled into a loose fist over her heart.
"Just… adopted."
She smiled.
Bitterly.
"Forget it," she whispered to the dark. "This will disappear when time passes. Like everything else."
But even as she said it…
She didn't believe it.
Not really.
Not deep down.
Because even silence remembers.
And so does the kind of love that never gets spoken.
Chapter 342 – "The Blindfold That Remembers"
From Alice's perspective – Midnight, Hunter's Office
The knock was soft. Polite.
But it didn't match the hour.
Alice blinked, still sitting by the window. Her phone had gone dark, her heart quieted — or so she thought.
She stood slowly, brushed her hair back into place, and approached the door.
Another knock. Just once.
"…Who is it?" she called.
The voice that answered was gentle — like wind through prayer bells.
"I'm sorry for the intrusion. Are you… Alice Elwood?"
Alice paused.
"Yes."
"Then… you're his sister."
Alice's hand froze on the doorknob.
"…Who's asking?"
"My name is Iris."
"I knew Alex."
"I remembered you."
That name — Iris — stirred something faint in Alice's mind, like the smell of rain from a childhood storm. A name long buried beneath years of silence.
She opened the door.
And there, under the silver light of the hallway lamp, stood a woman who didn't look like she belonged in any world Alice knew.
Iris.
She was tall. Serene. Wrapped in white robes edged with soft blue trim, with golden ornaments at her hip like rings of the sun. Her voluptuous figure was impossible not to notice, but her expression remained calm. Composed.
Her eyes were hidden beneath a black blindfold.
But even without seeing, she seemed to gaze directly at Alice.
Two long strands of golden hair fell gently down either side of her cheeks. Her full pink lips moved softly as she spoke.
"You haven't changed."
Alice stepped back instinctively.
"…You're from his childhood?"
Iris nodded slowly.
"He used to call you 'his big sister.' I always remembered that. Because every time he said your name, he smiled."
Alice's throat tightened.
She hadn't expected this.
Not tonight.
"I've been looking for him," Iris continued. "But I found you first. Because I knew… if anyone still mattered to him from that time, it would be you."
Alice opened her mouth — but no words came out.
Iris lowered her head slightly, her blindfolded eyes closing.
"Can I come in?"
Alice poured tea.
The soft clink of porcelain echoed gently in the small room. Across from her, Iris sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, blindfold still in place, her posture elegant — almost regal — even in silence.
Neither of them spoke at first.
The lamp above them cast a warm golden glow, flickering slightly, as if sensing the weight of time pressing between them.
Alice finally broke the silence.
"…You said you knew him?"
Iris tilted her head. "Yes. From long ago. When we were both children."
She reached one hand delicately toward the teacup, fingers brushing the edge without error — no hesitation, no fumbling. She brought it to her lips, sipped gracefully.
Alice watched.
"How long ago?" she asked softly.
"I was eight when I met him," Iris said. "He was only five."
Alice blinked. That early?
"I was training at a monastery in the mountains near the border," Iris continued. "My family sent me there because of my ability… I could heal without sight. But I was lonely. I didn't speak much. Then one day, he came with a group of travelers — your parents, I believe. They had taken him in."
Alice's expression shifted slightly.
So… that was one of the missions.
"He wandered into the quiet garden by himself," Iris said, smiling faintly. "I thought he would be afraid of me. But instead, he asked if I was a saint."
Alice nearly laughed. "Sounds like him."
"I asked him why," Iris continued.
"He said, 'Because you don't look like you belong in this world, and that makes you beautiful.'"
The words sat in the air between them like a thread of candlelight.
Alice lowered her gaze.
Iris smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.
"I've remembered those words ever since."
"…So you came to find him?" Alice asked.
Iris nodded. "Yes. I wasn't sure where to begin. But I remembered he used to speak of his sister with pride. He said she was strong, smarter than the adults, and 'a little scary when angry.'"
Alice froze.
"He said I was… scary?"
"In a good way," Iris said calmly. "Like a guardian."
Alice couldn't help but smile.
Guardian.
Not lover.
Not girl he whispered to at night.
She sipped her tea and steadied herself.
"Well," Alice said, "you've found him. He's not the same boy, but…"
"I don't mind," Iris interrupted gently. "I'm not the same girl, either."
Another silence settled.
Then Iris asked, softly:
"…Does he have someone now?"
Alice hesitated.
"…It's… complicated."
Iris nodded, seeming to accept that without question.
"I would like to see him again," she said. "But only if it's allowed. I don't want to disrupt his life."
Alice looked at her — at the blindfold, the poise, the grace, and the way her voice carried no jealousy, no ambition.
Just memory.
And maybe…
Something more.
"You should," Alice said. "You should see him."
The tea was warm.
The silence between sips was warmer.
Iris didn't mind silence — she had grown up in monasteries, where words were measured and stillness was sacred. But Alice's silence was different. It wasn't restraint. It was shielding.
Still, she liked her. There was a quiet strength in her posture, in her eyes — a flicker of someone who had stood in fire and chose not to burn.
"…You've been staring at my blindfold for a while," Iris said softly.
Alice blinked, caught. "I didn't mean to—"
"It's alright," Iris smiled. "Everyone does."
She touched the edge of the black cloth that wrapped her eyes, her fingers light and familiar.
"I wear it by choice."
Alice raised an eyebrow. "Not because you're blind?"
Iris gave a soft laugh. "No. I see… more than most people ever will."
She tilted her head slightly, sensing the shift in Alice's posture — curiosity wrapped in confusion.
"When I was a child," Iris continued, "my eyes showed me too much. Auras. Heat. Memory. Sometimes even glimpses of emotions before they were felt."
"I couldn't stop it. My vision was never still. I had headaches. Nausea. Sometimes I went days without opening my eyes, just to breathe like a normal person."
Alice whispered, "That sounds… overwhelming."
"It was."
Then, more gently:
"Until he gave me this."
She touched the knot behind her head — the one tied in a simple loop.
"It was just a normal cloth," she said. "No enchantments. Just a child's handkerchief he folded into a blindfold and said, 'You look better with it on.'"
Alice blinked. "That sounds like something he'd say."
Iris smiled at the memory.
"But it worked. Maybe not in magic. But in intention. I trained myself to filter my sight, control it. The blindfold became my focus. My rhythm."
Alice leaned back, surprised. "You mean… you've mastered it now?"
Iris nodded.
"Completely. I can see through walls. Into spell formations. Into people's mana flow. If I wished, I could even read your bloodline with a glance."
Alice tensed slightly.
Iris smiled again, sensing it.
"But I won't. Because I respect boundaries… especially yours."
A quiet pause followed.
Then she added, almost shyly:
"Still… I wear it because it reminds me of him. That he gave me something — not to suppress me, but to center me. He didn't see my gift as frightening. Just… beautiful."
Alice looked down at her tea.
"I see."
But her voice was softer now.
Something in her chest had cracked — just slightly.
Iris tilted her head.
"…May I ask something?"
Alice nodded without looking up.
"Do you still wear anything he gave you?"
Alice's grip tightened slightly on her cup.
"No," she whispered. "Not anymore."
But in the quiet that followed, she realized:
She had.
And maybe… she still did.
Chapter 343 – "The Book All Eyes Seek"
The sky was just beginning to lighten — not fully blue, not yet golden. That fragile space before sunrise when everything held its breath.
Alice stepped out onto the balcony with two cups of coffee in hand. She wasn't surprised to find Iris already there, seated calmly beside the railing, blindfold in place, her posture as still as carved glass.
"You really don't sleep much, do you?" Alice asked.
Iris turned toward her voice, lips curving softly. "Not anymore. The body rests, but the vision never stops."
Alice handed her a cup. "Here. Real coffee. Not monastery tea."
Iris accepted it with grace. "Then I'm already blessed."
They sat side by side, wrapped in the hush of early morning. The city below was quiet — no horns, no engines, just the distant sound of wind brushing rooftops.
"…Can I ask something general?" Alice said, breaking the silence.
"Of course."
"What exactly do you do now?"
Iris's head tilted slightly. "Beyond showing up at people's doors in the middle of the night?"
Alice smirked. "Yeah. Besides that."
"I study," Iris said. "I research healing theory and divine channeling."
"Under who?"
"No one." She turned her face toward the rising sun. "I'm learning directly from the original Book of Aten."
Alice nearly choked on her coffee.
"The original?"
"Yes."
"The one found in the ruins beneath Egypt?"
"The very one."
Alice stared. "I thought that was locked behind every seal imaginable. Doesn't, like, every major faction have their claws on it?"
Iris nodded. "They do. The Vatican, the Magic Society, the World Nobility Council, the High Elves, the Crimson Court, and the Eastern Dragon Houses. They all arrived on-site within hours of each other. No one could claim sole ownership, so they entered a binding pact: shared stewardship. Rotating access. Strict supervision."
"And they picked you to study it?"
"I was one of the few Vatican healers with aether-compatible sight and attunement," Iris said simply. "And I passed the resonance test. Barely."
Alice leaned on the railing. "So… what's in it?"
Iris was silent for a long moment.
Then she said softly, "We've deciphered only 20% of the original manuscript."
"That little?"
"There was a copy discovered years earlier," Iris continued. "It circulated among arcane scholars, black-market collectors, even divine cults. That version was incomplete, but it contained about 40% of its own structure."
Alice nodded. "That's the one the Magic Society auctioned."
"Yes. For years, people thought it was a near-complete artifact. But when we finally compared it to the true original—"
Her voice lowered.
"We realized the copy held less than 5% of the original's full content."
Alice's eyes widened. "You're serious?"
"I was there when the comparison was done. The copy isn't even the full prologue. It's… fragments of fragments."
Alice exhaled slowly. "And even that much changed the field of healing magic."
"Yes." Iris's voice grew distant, awed. "It restored vision to the blind. Reversed blood decay in vampires. Stilled cursed wounds. The Vatican now uses several spells derived from that copy as standard protocol. But in the original text…"
She touched her blindfold gently.
"There are healing patterns that respond to mana itself. Formulas that rewrite cellular resonance. Some passages reference restoring entire dead ecosystems, even extinct magical species."
Alice's fingers curled around her cup. "That's not just healing. That's god-tier reconstruction."
Iris nodded once. "Exactly. And no one knows who wrote it. There's no name. No divine signature. Just…"
She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a small parchment — a single burned fragment that glowed faintly with golden script.
At the bottom, etched in circular lines of light, was a mark:
☉
A simple, radiant disc.
Alice stared.
"…The symbol of Aten."
Iris nodded. "And no one remembers such a god. Not even the oldest vampires."
Alice leaned back, stunned. "So what does the Vatican think he is?"
"There are theories," Iris replied. "That Aten was a human who ascended, or a high priest who mastered a lost branch of magic. Some believe he was a sorcerer who healed with will alone. Others think he never existed at all — that he's a metaphor, or an echo of a god who erased his name."
Alice stared into her cup.
She knew Alex had grown in ways no one could track. That his magic defied classification.
But this?
This was something beyond even that.
"…You ever meet someone," Alice asked quietly, "and just know there's something hidden behind their smile… like they're carrying secrets older than they should?"
Iris didn't answer immediately.
Her fingers traced the rim of her cup, thoughtful.
"Yes," she said at last. "But this god—this Aten…"
"He doesn't just have secrets."
"He is one."
Alice looked at her.
"You think he was real?"
"I don't know," Iris admitted. "But whoever he was… the magic in that book doesn't feel like it was invented. It feels like it was remembered."
Alice fell silent, the words settling over her like dust on glass.
Neither of them spoke the truth aloud.
Because neither of them knew it.
They didn't know that the god they were studying…
The one who left behind miracles and vanished without a name…
Was a boy they had both loved once—
A boy named Alex.
And the title Aten?
Was never meant to be his.
It was a name the people of the past gave him by accident—
Because nothing else seemed to fit.
Chapter 344 – "The House He Lives In"
The train hummed quietly beneath their feet.
Alice sat near the window, arms folded, eyes on the passing rooftops. She hadn't said much since they left the city limits. The air was cool, but not cold — the kind of morning that threatened heat by noon.
Across from her, Iris sat in stillness, blindfolded, hands folded neatly over her lap. She didn't fidget. She didn't glance around. She didn't need to.
She simply listened.
To the air. The track. The resonance of the land.
To him.
"You're quiet," Iris said softly.
Alice shrugged.
"I'm still deciding if this is a good idea."
"It's not a bad one."
"That's not the same thing."
Iris tilted her head slightly. "You're afraid he's changed."
Alice shook her head. "No. I'm afraid we have."
Neither of them said anything after that.
By midday, they arrived.
The Elwood house sat nestled near the edge of the warded district — old stone foundation, wide wooden steps, enchanted roses blooming in silent rows near the gate. The kind of home that made people feel safe, even if they didn't know why.
Alice stepped through the gate without hesitation.
Iris paused for a moment on the threshold.
She could feel it — the residual threads of divine resistance, old enchantments, even two sigils bound to Alex's presence. One gold. One silver.
She knew those signatures.
"…He's marked," she murmured aloud.
Alice raised an eyebrow. "You can tell?"
"Someone loves him," Iris said calmly. "Two someones. Closely."
Alice looked away.
She already knew who they were.
"You're not worried?" she asked.
"No," Iris replied softly. "I'm not here to compete."
"Then what are you here for?"
Iris smiled beneath her blindfold.
"To see if the boy who gave me sight… still sees me."
He felt it before he heard the knock.
The gentle tremor in the ward line. A pulse in the mana thread. The quiet brush of a familiar spiritual frequency that hadn't touched his life in years — but still lingered, tucked somewhere in the folds of memory.
Alex turned away from the counter, setting the teacup down with care.
"They're here," he murmured.
Ciel's voice brushed gently from within his hand. "Two signatures. One is Alice."
Morgan stirred beside her, a silver flicker pulsing faintly in the sigil. "And the other?"
He smiled faintly.
"…Iris."
The name tasted soft on his tongue.
He stepped toward the front door just as the knock came — polite, rhythmic, the way only Iris would knock.
Alex opened the door.
And there she was.
Still in white. Still blindfolded. Still radiant in that quiet, weightless way that belonged to people who had walked through miracles and never told anyone.
Her blonde hair shimmered in the light.
Two golden strands framed her face.
And though her eyes were hidden…
He could feel her gaze.
She was seeing everything.
The mana fluctuations in the air.
The heat threads that outlined his frame.
The aura of the women who had already claimed a place in his life — some inside the house, some resting within the sigils on his hand.
She tilted her head.
And smiled.
"You've collected many blessings," she said softly.
"Even with this on… I see them all."
Alex's hand twitched at his side.
"You still wear it," he said, voice low.
She reached up, touching the black blindfold gently.
"Of course. You gave it to me."
He swallowed once, heartbeat steady — but slow.
"You could see without it now."
"I could always see," she replied. "That was never the point."
She stepped forward.
"This blindfold calms me. Anchors me. Trains the world to slow down when I'm in it."
"And it reminds me… of the first person who looked at me and didn't flinch."
Alex didn't know what to say to that.
So he simply stepped aside.
"Come in."
Iris stepped inside with the grace of a wind-blown prayer, her white robes flowing softly behind her, the golden ornament at her hip swaying with every quiet step.
The house seemed to hush around her.
Even the mana lines in the floor flickered just slightly, as if reacting to her presence — not in warning, but recognition.
Alex closed the door behind them.
They stood in the front hallway, sunlight casting clean slats of warmth across the wooden floor.
She turned to him.
"So," she said gently, "it's true, then."
He raised an eyebrow. "What is?"
She tilted her head slightly — blindfolded, but utterly confident.
"The rumors."
"That the little boy who once tripped over his own feet and handed me dandelions now has a harem."
Alex coughed once. "...Harem is a strong word."
Iris smiled. "Is it?"
She took a step closer, her presence soft and enveloping.
"They say you defeated Apollo."
"They say you defeated Apollo," she said softly.
"That you faced Fenrir…"
She paused — then smiled faintly beneath her blindfold.
"And knocked him out with a single punch."
Her voice lowered, almost playful.
"And that the Sun Goddess and the Elf Princess of Alfheim are both carrying your child."
Alex rubbed the back of his neck. "People talk too much."
"Not enough, apparently," Iris replied, lips curved. "No one ever warned me that you would grow into someone capable of breaking gods and claiming royalty."
She stopped just a breath away from him.
"When I heard the whispers," she said quietly, "I didn't believe them. Not at first."
"But now that I'm standing here…"
Her blindfolded gaze turned directly toward his heart.
"I can see it."
"It's true."
Alex didn't respond immediately.
He just looked at her — really looked — and saw not the mystic girl with divine sight, not the cloaked healer of the Vatican, not the vessel of grace the world would eventually bow to…
But the one who once smiled at him through migraines and darkness, clutching his silly cloth over her eyes, and said: "This makes the world manageable."
"I never meant to become all that," he said at last.
Iris smiled.
"That's why you did."
Chapter 345 – "The Ones Who Dwell Closest"
From Iris's perspective – Elwood Residence, Late Afternoon
The air inside the house shimmered.
Iris felt it instantly — a vibration beneath the floorboards, a soft twist of mana that hummed like starlight behind a veil. Her blindfold filtered the overload, but even without her eyes, she saw what most would never perceive.
She turned her head slightly.
"…Someone's watching," she said.
Alex didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Because the moment the sunbeam shifted across the floor—
The symbol on the back of his right hand glowed.
Three distinct pulses.
One golden, one silver, one crimson-violet.
Iris watched.
And the air split gently open.
First came the light—
A quiet spiral of golden threads unfolding like a blessing.
From that light stepped a girl with long silver hair, wearing a soft blue dress. Her eyes shone like dawn. Calm. Endless. Gentle like a lullaby woven through eternity.
"You must be Iris," the girl said, her voice smooth and pure.
Alex smiled faintly. "This is Ciel."
"She's the Will of an entire world," he added. "The soul of World Frontier."
Iris stilled. "The Will… of a planet?"
Ciel smiled. "He gave me a vessel. So I could live."
"And love."
Before Iris could respond, a second light unfolded—
Silver this time.
Elegant. Refined. Cold as moonlight on armor.
The one who emerged stepped with precision. Her silver-white hair shimmered like steel silk, her expression sharp but composed.
Her presence was like a sword sheathed in ritual silence.
"Morgan" she said simply.
Iris blinked. "The Morgan Le Fay?"
"Reincarnated," Morgan corrected. "And bound to him."
Alex glanced sideways. "By her own choice."
Morgan didn't deny it.
The room trembled one last time.
The third sigil flared—crimson-violet, vivid like fire caught in dusk.
And then—
A presence surged forward.
Graceful and proud, her long hair trailing like violet flames, golden horns slightly visible under the glamour she hadn't bothered to fully hide. Her eyes gleamed — bold and intelligent, but with the quiet pride of royalty.
She stepped forward in a curve of dragon heat and perfume.
"I am Reyne," she said. "Daughter of the High Dragon King. Princess of Fire Dragon."
"And his."
Alex cleared his throat. "They… all stay inside the symbol sometimes. It lets them remain close."
Iris smiled faintly, still blindfolded.
"So that's what I felt."
She turned toward the three women, then slowly lowered her head in a graceful bow.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "For staying by him when I could not."
Ciel blinked once — then smiled.
Morgan tilted her head, assessing.
Reyne folded her arms. "You're very calm."
"I see much," Iris replied. "But I don't challenge what's true."
She turned toward Alex.
"You've chosen well."
He smiled.
But something in his eyes said he remembered…
Exactly who had first taught him how to see.
The silence stretched only a moment.
Then Reyne spoke first — folding her arms, her emerald-scaled tail flicking slightly behind her in controlled tension.
"You sensed us before we stepped out."
"Even inside the sigil."
Morgan narrowed her gaze. "Even most mages can't detect our exact position when we're in compressed form. Not unless they've trained in resonance tuning."
Ciel's voice remained soft, but curious.
"How did you know we were watching?"
Iris tilted her head slightly.
Then gently reached up—
And touched the black blindfold resting across her eyes.
"Because of this."
She didn't remove it.
Didn't need to.
"These eyes were never just for seeing."
"They're for feeling the structure of things."
"Spells. Souls. Fractures. Intent."
Her voice didn't carry arrogance — only clarity.
She turned toward them with quiet calm.
"Even veiled within Alex's mana thread, I could sense your shapes."
"The one that shimmers with warm gravity." Her face turned to Ciel. "The will of something ancient. Not divine. Deeper."
Ciel blinked. "…You really did feel that?"
"Of course," Iris nodded. "You're not a goddess. You're something older."
Then toward Morgan.
"The one with silver blades folded inward. The past clinging to the present like mist on steel."
Morgan's expression didn't change. But she didn't deny it.
Then toward Reyne.
"And the one wrapped in fire and pride — not anger, but heat that protects. Regal, wild, grieving."
Reyne's eyes sharpened. "You saw that much… blind?"
"I see better because I'm blind."
She lowered her hand from the blindfold again.
"This cloth doesn't block my sight. It filters it. Trains it. Without it… I'd see too much."
"But even like this…"
"I can see the three of you love him."
The room went still.
Even Alex turned slightly, eyes lowering.
But Iris only smiled softly.
"That's why I'm not afraid."
Ciel stepped forward.
The light around her shimmered gently, not magical but emotional — the kind of glow born from peace that had weathered storms.
Her golden eyes regarded Iris with quiet warmth.
"You see so clearly," she said softly. "But what you feel… that matters more."
Ciel's gaze never left her.
Then she asked — not accusing, not doubting, just sincere:
"Do you love him too?"
The room held its breath.
Iris didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
Her voice wasn't trembling.
It didn't rise.
It didn't need to.
"I did then. And I do now."
"Even if he forgot me."
"Even if I wasn't here when he needed me most."
She turned her face slightly toward the others.
"I didn't come to take his heart."
"I just wanted to return… to the place where it still remembered me."
Ciel smiled.
Soft. Steady.
"Then you belong here."
Morgan remained silent — unreadable, but not cold.
Reyne clicked her tongue and looked away, muttering, "Tch. Another one."
But she didn't leave.
She stayed.
So did the warmth.
And so did Iris — standing in a home she had never stepped foot in before…
But already knew she would never want to leave again.