Free Web NovelChapter 80: Small Miracles
Hope was three weeks old and had already accidentally frozen time twice, which according to Morgana was "unprecedented for an infant" but according to me was just terrifying because what kind of baby could manipulate temporal magic before they could hold their own head up?
Our kind, apparently. The bond-hybrid kind. The impossible kind. frёeωebɳovel.com
"She’s not crying." Riven’s observation came at 2 AM during what I was generously calling a feeding even though Hope seemed more interested in making the bottle hover than actually drinking from it. "That’s—is that normal?"
Normal. Right. Because we had so much data on what was normal for the first documented bond-hybrid baby conceived through death-transcending mate bonds.
"Nothing about her is normal." I tried to guide the floating bottle back down before it hit the ceiling. "She’s three weeks old and can already access hybrid magic. Most hybrids don’t manifest until puberty. She’s—" The bottle froze mid-air because apparently Hope had opinions about my interference. "She’s doing whatever she wants and physics is just a suggestion."
Physics is just a suggestion. That was going to be my parenting memoir title at this rate.
The bottle unfroze and dropped, and I caught it before Hope could decide gravity was also optional, and finally—finally—got her to actually eat instead of experimenting with reality. ƒrēewebnovel.com
"Four fathers and she still won’t sleep through the night." Thorne’s rough voice came from the doorway where he’d been standing watch because apparently our daughter needed a security detail at three weeks old.
To be fair, she kind of did. Word had spread about the bond-hybrid birth and we’d had seventeen requests for "observation visits" from various supernatural factions who wanted to study her like she was a science project instead of our daughter.
Hard pass on that. Nobody was studying Hope. Nobody was even getting close to Hope without all four fathers and me vetting them first.
Paranoid? Maybe. Justified? Absolutely.
"She’s growing fast." Draven appeared with his tablet because of course he was documenting everything. "Three weeks but developmentally closer to three months. The bond-fusion is accelerating her growth. At this rate she’ll be—" He did math I couldn’t follow at 2 AM. "Walking by two months. Talking by three. Manifesting conscious magic by four."
By four months our daughter would have conscious control over temporal magic. Most supernaturals took years to develop that. She’d have it before she could form complete sentences.
"We’re not prepared for this." The admission came out before I could stop it. "None of us. There’s no manual for raising a bond-hybrid who can freeze time. No precedent. No guidance. We’re just—" I couldn’t finish because my brain was too tired to form coherent thoughts.
"Making it up as we go." Kael finished for me. "Same as everything else."
Same as everything else. Right. We’d survived demons and Root and Fae and dimensional threats by improvising. Apparently parenting was the same.
Hope finally finished eating and immediately her eyes cycled through all four colors—gold to silver to red to pale blue—which Morgana said indicated she was accessing the bond connections to all four fathers simultaneously.
Our daughter could sense the bonds. Could feel all four of them through me. Could probably access their emotions and thoughts the way I could.
That was either going to be really useful or really invasive when she got older.
"There’s something else." Draven’s voice went clinical which meant concerning news. "The temporal freezes she’s been doing. They’re not random. I’ve been tracking the pattern. She freezes time whenever she’s—" He pulled up data. "Overstimulated. Scared. Uncomfortable. It’s a defense mechanism."
A defense mechanism. Our three-week-old daughter’s stress response was to freeze time.
"So she’s going to freeze everyone around her every time she’s upset?" That sounded—sustainable. Very practical.
"Until she learns control." He made more notes. "Which at her development rate should be—" More math. "Six months. Maybe sooner."
Six months of Hope accidentally freezing time when she cried. Six months of trying to parent around temporal anomalies.
No pressure.
I must have fallen asleep sitting up because the next thing I knew it was dawn and Hope was being passed between all four mates in rotation because apparently they’d decided to let me sleep, and watching them coordinate baby duty with the same precision they used for battle tactics was both heartwarming and slightly concerning.
"She smiled at me." Riven’s voice carried wonder. "Actual smile. Not gas. She recognized me."
Three weeks old and already showing recognition. Right. Because accelerated development meant she was hitting milestones at supernatural speed.
"The alliance wants to meet her." Kael’s voice was carefully neutral. "Officially. They’ve been respectful about giving us space but—"
But one thousand fighters wanted to meet their leaders’ impossible baby. That was—fair actually. They’d followed us through everything. They deserved to see Hope.
"Controlled introduction." I heard my voice go into tactical mode which was probably weird for baby planning but whatever. "Small groups. Supervised. Anyone who makes her uncomfortable leaves immediately."
Anyone who makes her uncomfortable leaves. Right. Because our daughter could freeze time when stressed and I’d rather not have alliance members stuck in temporal stasis.
We spent the morning setting up the introduction—twenty fighters at a time, five-minute windows, Morgana monitoring Hope’s stress levels, all four fathers on high alert for any sign of threat.
Paranoid parenting. But justified paranoid parenting.
The first group came through and Hope was—perfect. Smiled at them with eyes that cycled colors. Didn’t freeze anyone. Didn’t break physics. Just existed as a really cute baby who happened to be supernatural.
The fifth group is when things got weird.
One of the visiting wolves—I think his name was Daniel but my sleep-deprived brain couldn’t confirm—got too close and Hope’s eyes locked on him with an intensity that made my hindbrain scream danger.
"Back up." The command came out before I could think. "Now."
He backed up but not fast enough.
Hope froze time in a perfect sphere around him. Just him. Everyone else could move. Daniel was stuck mid-step looking absolutely terrified.
"How long will it hold?" Kael’s voice was controlled panic.
"Don’t know." I was already reaching for Hope trying to figure out how to undo what she’d done. "She’s three weeks old. I don’t think she knows how to release it."
Doesn’t know how to release it. Right. So Daniel was going to be frozen until Hope either figured it out or got distracted.
I tried pushing hybrid magic at the freeze trying to counter it, and got absolutely nowhere because apparently my daughter’s temporal manipulation was stronger than mine.
At three weeks old.
That was—concerning on multiple levels.
Hope yawned. The freeze dropped. Daniel stumbled and nearly fell.
"What—" He looked around confused. "Did I just—was time—"
"You got too close." I kept my voice gentle. "She froze you. Defense mechanism. You’re fine. But maybe—" I gestured to the door. "Maybe that’s enough introduction for today."
He left quickly and I just sat there holding Hope trying to process that our daughter could freeze time more effectively than I could and she was three weeks old.
"We need to teach her control." Draven’s clinical assessment. "Soon. Before she accidentally freezes someone permanently."
Before she accidentally freezes someone permanently. Right. Because that was a real possibility now.
Parenting a bond-hybrid with temporal magic was going to be—complicated.
That night after Hope finally fell asleep—without freezing anything, small victories—Morgana appeared with an expression that meant bad news.
"What now?" I was too tired to be diplomatic.
"Scouts detected something." Her voice was grim. "At the eastern perimeter. Not a threat exactly. More like—" She pulled up readings. "More like an echo. Of The Root."
An echo of The Root. We’d killed it. Destroyed it completely. There shouldn’t be echoes.
"How?" One word because forming full sentences seemed impossible.
"When you killed The Root from inside the prison, you destroyed its consciousness. Its will. Its essence." She explained like she was reading from a textbook. "But the power it had consumed over centuries—that power had to go somewhere. And apparently—" She gestured to the readings. "Apparently it’s been seeping back into reality through the dimensional scar. Not sentient. Not organized. Just—raw power looking for form."
Raw power looking for form. That sounded like the beginning of another threat.
"How long until it finds form?" Kael’s question was direct.
"Unknown." Morgana’s voice carried frustration. "Could be months. Could be years. Could be never. We just—we need to monitor it. Make sure it doesn’t coalesce into something dangerous."
Make sure it doesn’t coalesce into something dangerous. Right. Because apparently killing ancient evil wasn’t permanent, it just delayed the next problem.
I looked at Hope sleeping peacefully in her crib, eyes cycling through colors even in sleep, and tried not to think about what kind of world she was growing up in.
A world where we’d killed The Root but its power was still out there. Where dimensional scars leaked reality. Where our daughter could freeze time before she could talk.
But also a world where we were together. Where the alliance was strong. Where we’d survived everything.
And we’d keep surviving. For her. For us. For whatever came next.
Together.
Always.
