“Not long enough,” I say. I don’t sit.
Autrua tilts her head. “Still defiant. Takhiss always admired that about you.”
“Why am I here?”
“To talk.” She steeples her fingers. Her nails are gold. Real gold. “About the child.”
I stiffen. “If you came here to threaten me?—”
“Oh, no, no.” Her voice drips with that cloying kind of sweetness that hides a blade. “Not a threat. A discussion. You’ve done remarkably well raising him. Despite... the circumstances.”
My pulse spikes. “What circumstances?”
She touches the back of her neck. A shimmer ripples across her skin, and I see it—her priesthood identifier. It glows faint blue with embedded biometric threads. A live transmission channel. Someone is listening on the other end.
“He knows the boy is a hybrid, Ella. But does he knowhow valuablethat blood is? Does he know the Jalshagar resonance isn't just present—it’s unprecedented? That his son isn't just a soldier, but a living key to the Coalition throne?”
I go still. My throat closes. The sound that comes out of me isn’t a word so much as a static burst. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, but I do.” Her smile widens just enough to show a hint of teeth. “I ran the genetic archives myself, back when they processed your rescue files. The blood samples, the medical data. The child isn't just a hybrid. He is a conduit. Jalshagar resonance in the DNA sequence. Stronger than I’ve ever seen.”
She leans forward. The air between us feels like it’s vibrating. “When Takhiss finds out how dangerous his son really is... do you think he’ll look at him with love? Or fear?”
I force myself not to look away. “If you so much as try to contact him?—”
She cuts me off with a wave of her hand. “My dear, you misunderstand me. I’m not your enemy. I’m offering an order. Takhiss is bound by our laws. If we acknowledge the child officially, we can protect him. Give him a name. A lineage.”
“You mean take him.”
Her eyes flicker. “Raise him properly. Among his father’s people. You’re human. You can’t teach him what he is.”
I laugh, but it comes out brittle. “You mean I can’t control him.”
Autrua doesn’t flinch. “Control is such a crude word. But yes. If left unchecked, his instincts will surface early. And then what? The Alliance will dissect him. The Coalition will use him. You’ll lose him either way.”
I step forward, palms flat on the glowing table. “You’re not taking my son.”
She tilts her head. “Then you’d better tell his father the truth before I do.”
Her words fall like a blade through the static hum.
I breathe once. Twice. My chest feels tight enough to crack. “What do you want, Autrua?”
Her smile returns, slow and satisfied. “To remind you that everything has a place. Even chaos. Even you. Think carefully before you decide to stand in the way of fate.”
Then she stands, smooth as smoke, and glides past me toward the exit. The scent she leaves behind is sharp and metallic, like burnt copper.
For a long minute, I can’t move. My fingers are numb. The table’s glow flickers, distorting my reflection—hair wild, eyes wide, skin pale under green light. I look like someone caught in her own lie.
The air feels wrong. Heavy. Every sound in the station has teeth.
When I finally stumble outside, the sky has begun to lighten at the edges. The horizon’s smeared with pink and ash. I pull my jacket tight and start walking. My legs feel like they don’t belong to me.
She knows. And if she knows, the others do too.
I think about what she said—that Takhiss will find out. That the Coalition has records. That the child’s resonance is strong. And she’s right. He’ll figure it out. Maybe soon.
The worst part? I can’t tell if I’m more afraid of losing him when he finds out or of what happens if he decides to stay.
