Hope turned six months old on the same day the alliance officially ratified our democratic structure, and honestly watching my daughter teleport around the celebration while fifteen hundred fighters voted on constitutional amendments was peak surreal parenting experience.
"Mama look!" She appeared on top of the voting podium having somehow teleported past three security checkpoints. "I here!"
She was there. Six months old and bypassing supernatural security like it was a game.
"Hope Kane." I used her full name which she'd learned meant serious business. "We talked about this. No teleporting during important meetings."
"But boring." She pouted and her eyes cycled through all four colors checking if I was actually mad or just pretend mad.
The bond connections worked both ways now. She could read our emotions through them. Could sense when we were serious versus when we were just going through parenting motions.
