Free Web NovelChapter 81: Growing Pains
Hope started walking at exactly two months old which would have been impressive if she wasn’t also simultaneously learning to teleport short distances by freezing her position in one location and unfreezing in another, because apparently my daughter had decided conventional development milestones were for babies who weren’t bond-hybrids.
"Da." She pointed at Kael while standing—actually standing without support—in the middle of our quarters looking absurdly proud of herself.
"Did she just—" Kael’s voice cracked. "Was that a word?"
"That was a word." Riven confirmed from where he’d been trying to baby-proof the room which was pointless when the baby could literally manipulate spacetime. "She said Da. She’s two months old and talking."
Two months old and talking and walking and teleporting and I was running on approximately four hours of sleep total across the last week because apparently bond-hybrid babies didn’t need much sleep but their mothers definitely did.
"Mama." Hope turned to me and my heart did this thing where it tried to escape through my throat because that was my daughter calling me Mama at two months old.
I picked her up and she immediately made us both hover three inches off the ground because gravity was still very much optional in Hope’s world.
"Down please." I tried to sound firm instead of exhausted. "We stay on the ground. Gravity is our friend."
She giggled and we dropped, and honestly the fact that she understood instructions at two months was almost scarier than the temporal magic.
"The Root echo is getting stronger." Draven appeared with readings that were probably important but my brain was too fried to fully process. "It’s been six weeks since we first detected it. It’s growing. Coalescing. Taking form."
Taking form. Right. The raw power from The Root’s death was organizing itself into something new.
"How long until it’s a threat?" Because I needed actual timelines not vague warnings.
"Three months. Maybe four." His clinical assessment. "It’s not developing consciousness like The Root had. More like—" He struggled for the metaphor. "Like a storm. A natural disaster. Destructive but not malicious."
A natural disaster made of ancient evil power. Fantastic. Very sustainable.
"Can we stop it before it fully forms?" Kael’s strategic thinking engaging.
"Potentially." Morgana appeared because apparently everyone had decided our quarters were the meeting room now. "If we can disrupt the coalescing process. Scatter the power before it consolidates. But it would require—" She pulled up calculations. "Significant temporal manipulation. More than you’ve attempted since the prison."
More than I’d attempted since the prison. Right. Because killing The Root had taken everything and I hadn’t pushed my limits since then because I’d been pregnant and then recovering and then parenting.
"I can do it." The words came out before I could overthink them. "Three months gives me time to train. To prepare. To—"
Hope teleported out of my arms and appeared on Thorne’s shoulders looking delighted with herself.
"To figure out childcare." I finished weakly. "Can’t exactly bring a two-month-old to fight a Root echo."
Can’t bring a two-month-old. Right. Except Hope was two months old chronologically but developmentally closer to six months and at the rate she was growing she’d be what—toddler equivalent by the time we had to fight?
"The alliance can watch her." Isabelle’s voice came from the doorway because apparently privacy was dead. "We’ve got a thousand fighters. Pretty sure we can manage one baby for a few hours."
One baby who can freeze time and teleport. Sure. Very manageable.
"She’s been good with groups." Riven’s observation. "Since the introduction incident. Hasn’t frozen anyone in four weeks."
Four weeks without freezing anyone. Right. That was progress. Probably.
"We’ll figure it out." Kael’s Alpha certainty. "We always do."
We always do. Right. By improvising and hoping things didn’t explode.
The next six weeks were chaos in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Hope hit three months and was talking in full sentences which Morgana said was "neurologically impossible" but clearly our daughter didn’t care about neurological limitations.
"Mama tired." She observed at 3 AM when I was trying to get her back to sleep after she’d woken up and decided the ceiling was more interesting than her crib. "Need sleep."
"Yes, Mama needs sleep." I agreed while lowering us both from where she’d floated us. "Which means Hope needs to sleep too."
"Not tired." She teleported to the window. "Want see stars."
Want to see stars. My three-month-old daughter wanted to see stars at 3 AM and had the vocabulary to express it.
"Stars will be there tomorrow." I tried reasoning with a three-month-old who could manipulate reality. "Sleep now. Stars tomorrow."
"Promise?" Her eyes cycled through all four colors which I’d learned meant she was accessing the bonds to verify I was telling the truth.
Our daughter had built-in lie detection through supernatural bond connections. That was going to make parenting interesting when she got older.
"Promise." I confirmed and felt the bonds pulse with agreement from all four fathers who were apparently listening through the connection even while sleeping.
Privacy was absolutely dead in this family.
Hope finally agreed to sleep and I collapsed back into bed next to Kael who’d somehow managed to sleep through the ceiling conversation.
"She’s getting stronger." His voice was quiet. Concerned. "The temporal manipulation. The teleportation. It’s—she’s more powerful than you were at her age."
More powerful than me. Right. Because I’d been a normal hybrid struggling to survive and she was a bond-hybrid born from impossible conception with four fathers’ power running through her.
"She’s going to need training." The realization hit hard. "Real training. Not just ’please don’t freeze people’ training. Actual combat magic training."
Actual combat magic training for a three-month-old. That sounded insane but also necessary because Hope’s power was growing faster than her judgment.
"When she’s older." Kael pulled me closer. "Right now she’s still a baby. We let her be a baby."
Let her be a baby. Right. Except babies didn’t usually teleport or freeze time or float to the ceiling.
But the sentiment was good.
The Root echo continued growing and by week eight it had enough form that scouts could actually see it—a swirling mass of dark energy at the dimensional scar, pulling power from somewhere and getting bigger.
"Two months until it’s fully formed." Morgana’s updated estimate. "Maybe less. It’s accelerating."
Accelerating. Of course it was. Why would anything be simple?
I started training again—real training, pushing my temporal magic to limits I hadn’t tested since the prison. Freezing larger areas for longer periods. Aging things decades in seconds. Rewinding damage.
The power was still there. Thirty years of practice hadn’t faded. I could still manipulate time with precision that made the alliance fighters nervous.
But pushing it while also parenting a bond-hybrid who needed constant supervision was exhausting in ways fighting The Root hadn’t been.
"You can’t do both." Riven’s observation came after I’d accidentally frozen myself mid-diaper change because Hope had teleported and I’d reflexively tried to catch her. "Can’t train at full capacity and parent full-time. You need to choose priorities."
Choose priorities. Right. Except both felt critical. Training to fight the Root echo. Parenting Hope.
"We handle Hope." Thorne’s rough voice was certain. "You train. We’ve got her."
We’ve got her. Right. Four fathers who were absolutely capable of managing one bond-hybrid toddler.
Probably.
I increased training to six hours a day while the four of them tag-teamed Hope duty, and honestly watching them coordinate parenting with the same tactical precision they used for battle was both hilarious and impressive.
Kael had schedules. Riven had contingency plans for every scenario. Draven documented everything. Thorne just followed Hope around making sure she didn’t teleport into anything dangerous.
It was working. Mostly.
Until Hope hit four months and developed conscious control over her temporal magic which meant she could now freeze time on purpose instead of just reflexively.
"Mama watch." She announced before freezing Kael mid-step. "I do it!"
She did it. Our four-month-old daughter had deliberately frozen her father in time and was looking at me for approval.
"That’s very good." I tried to sound encouraging instead of terrified. "Now unfreeze him please."
"Why?" She tilted her head. "He stay?"
He stay. She wanted to keep Kael frozen like a toy she could put down and pick up later.
"Because freezing people isn’t nice." I knelt down to her level. "Kael is your Da. We don’t freeze family. We only freeze bad things that try to hurt us."
Only freeze bad things. Right. Teaching moral framework to a four-month-old with reality-warping powers. freeweɓnovel.cøm
Parenting was wild.
She considered this then unfroze Kael who stumbled and immediately picked her up.
"No freezing Da." He kept his voice gentle but firm. "That’s the rule."
She nodded seriously then teleported to Riven and froze him instead.
"Hope." My voice came out exasperated. "What did we just say?"
"No freeze Da." She agreed. "But can freeze Ren?"
Ren was her name for Riven because four-month-olds couldn’t pronounce full names apparently.
"No freezing anyone in the family." I clarified. "Da, Ren, Dray, Thor, or Mama. No freezing any of us."
She pouted but unfroze Riven, and I just stood there wondering how I’d gotten to the point where negotiating temporal magic rules with a four-month-old was my actual life.
The alliance had expanded to fifteen hundred fighters by month four and managing that many people was becoming its own challenge. More factions wanted to join. More resources to coordinate. More politics to navigate.
"We need formal structure." One of the council representatives—we’d formed a council of twelve to help manage decisions—brought the concern to the leadership meeting. "Rules. Hierarchy. We can’t keep operating on informal agreements when we’re fifteen hundred strong."
Formal structure. Right. We’d been running on crisis management and personal relationships. That didn’t scale to fifteen hundred.
"We vote on structure next week." Kael’s decision. "Give everyone time to prepare proposals. We build something sustainable."
Something sustainable. Right. Because apparently surviving everything meant we had to learn to govern properly.
The Root echo was one month from full formation and I was training eight hours a day pushing temporal magic to absolute limits, and Hope was four months old talking in complete paragraphs and occasionally freezing her fathers when they told her no.
Everything was chaos. Everything was growing. Everything was changing.
And somehow we were still surviving.
Together.
One impossible day at a time.
