"Please don't worry." Cecilia said. She settled into the chair beside Oathran, her hands folded in her lap. "We're not time travelers."
Everyone looked at her.
The room was quiet with only the distant sound of waves moved against the shore. The wind that came through the open windows carried the salt smell of the sea and the last warmth of the day.
August was sitting across from her, his hands on his knees, his face still tight. Eliam was between him and Eastiel, more relaxed, but his eyes were sharp.
Meanwhile, Roarke was perched on the edge of a chair near the door, and Arkai was right beside him.
"And no," Cecilia continued, "we didn't change either."
"Something just got added."
Added?
The fathers and Roarke raised their eyebrows. August's hands tightened on his knees, while Eliam leaned forward, just slightly.
