I closed my eyes and let myself just exist in this moment. Transformed. Completed. Finally, impossibly, permanently home.
Chapter 8
Peace.Thiswaswhatpeace felt like.
My body was heavy in Daddy’s arms, but not with exhaustion.
This was the total relaxation of complete surrender. This was strength. Choosing to be small and held and completely dependent on someone who'd earned that trust.
He navigated the corridor toward the nursery with absolute certainty, his footsteps sure even carrying my weight. We passed a guard—I felt her electrical signature bloom in my awareness, nervous system firing as she snapped to attention—but Zephyron didn't acknowledge her. His focus stayed on me, on getting me somewhere safe, on completing the transition from wild power to domestic care.
I pressed my face against his chest, letting his heartbeat drown out everything else. The coat slipped slightly, exposing my shoulder where new lightning scars traced down my arm in intricate patterns. They glowed faintly in the dim corridor—silver-blue bioluminescence that I'd carry for the rest of my unnaturally long life.
Proof. Evidence. His mark on me made visible.
The Nursery door appeared ahead, familiar glass and chrome. He didn't break stride. Just shifted me slightly in his arms and kicked it open with his boot—gentle enough not to damage anything, firm enough to swing it wide. The gesture made something in my chest go soft. That casual display of power used for care rather than intimidation.
The rooftop had been wild space—transformation territory where violence and pleasure merged into something primal. But the nrusery was domestic. Safe. The place where I could be small without fear.
Zephyron carried me deeper into the room, his steps silent on the plush carpet. The door whispered shut behind us, sealing us into this protected bubble. Through the glass, I watched rain trace patterns down the exterior surface, each drop catching light from the city below.
"Almost there," he murmured against my hair. His voice rumbled through his chest into mine, creating resonance that made the bond pulse brighter. "Gonna set you down soon, little lightning. Gonna get you warm and fed and tucked in safe."
The words wrapped around me like the coat. Promises. Structure. Evidence that he was thinking ahead, anticipating needs I hadn't formed into conscious wants yet.
He reached the carpeted area near the bed and finally—carefully—set me down. My bare feet sank into the plush fibers, the texture impossibly soft against my transformed skin. Every sensation was amplified but not overwhelming. Just vivid. Real. Present.
"Stay here," he said, his hand cupping my face briefly. His thumb traced the bond mark on my temple, sending pleasant sparks cascading. "I'm going to get you warm milk and something sweet. You pick out pajamas from the wardrobe. Soft ones. Comfortable. Understood?"
The instruction settled over me with weight. Clear. Specific. A gentle command that kept me in Little space instead of letting me drift back toward competence.
"Yes, Daddy," I whispered.
His smile was small but satisfied. "Good girl."
Then he was moving away, crossing to the small kitchenette area I'd barely noticed before. Leaving me standing in the middle of the Nursery, wrapped in his coat, my newly transformed body humming with power I was learning not to fear.
I looked down at my hands. Lightning scars traced across my palms—silver-blue fractals that glowed faintly, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. The cult's scarification was still there—twenty-seven lines carved during rituals—but transformed now. Incorporated into the bond patterns. My crimes remade into something beautiful.
Through the bond, I felt Zephyron's continued attention. Even with his back turned, preparing milk I could already smell heating, he was monitoring me. Making sure I was steady. Ready to catch me if the surrender became too much.
But it wasn't too much. It was exactly right.
I pulled his coat tighter around my shoulders and padded toward the wardrobe, ready to follow his instruction. Ready to stay small and safe and held for as long as he'd let me.
I meant to go to the wardrobe. Really meant to. Daddy had given me clear instruction—pick soft pajamas, stay in Little space, wait for him to return with milk and care. But my bare feet carried me past the carved wooden doors toward the floor-to-ceiling glass wall instead, pulled by something I couldn't name. The city spread below like a circuit diagram come to life, thousands of lights creating patterns my new senses could read as easily as text.
Tempest Reach at night was beautiful. Rain fell in sheets that caught light from street lamps and storefronts, creating curtains of silver that shifted and swayed with wind currents I could track electrically. The harbor glowed blue-white from the massive lightning collectors Zephyron had engineered—converting storm power into usable energy for the territory. Trade ships rocked at anchor, their metal hulls singing faint frequencies that harmonized with the city's larger electrical grid.
But my attention snagged on the horizon. On the dark, jagged line cutting across the landscape like a wound.
Thornback Woods.
My hand moved without conscious thought, pressing against the cool glass. The impact made a soft sound—palm and fingertips creating a print that fogged slightly from my body heat. The lightning scars across my skin glowed brighter at the contact, silver-blue fractals that reflected in the window. For a moment, I saw double: the dark forest in the distance, and my own marked palm superimposed over it.
I could sense the woods electrically now. The trees didn't generate much current—they were biological, grounded, drawing power from earth rather than storm. But the life within them created subtle patterns. Small mammals whose nervous systems sparked as they moved. Insects whose wings generated static. The faint electrical potential of rot and growth happening simultaneously in the forest floor.
And somewhere in that mass of sensation, I could trace the exact path I'd taken out.
