The courtyard had gone quiet again.
Tea steamed gently between them, leaves rustling overhead, sunlight breaking through the branches in slow, patient beams. Nexus rested one hand on her belly, the other wrapped around her cup. Nyk leaned back in his chair, Christine sat close beside him, posture relaxed but attentive.
Azelar's gaze lingered on the horizon for a long moment before he spoke.
"Rayon," he said softly, "has never received something most people take for granted."
They all looked toward him.
"Parents."
Nexus's fingers tightened slightly against her cup.
"He didn't grow up as a hero," Azelar continued. "And he never saw himself as a villain. He was just… himself. A child forced to survive before he ever learned what kindness was supposed to look like."
His voice wasn't heavy—but it carried weight.
"He was abandoned. Left to fend for himself when he was still too young to understand why the world could be cruel. He learned quickly that the world does not care about fairness. So he learned to see it clearly."
Christine listened, eyes soft.
"He grew up real," Azelar said. "Too real. He sees things as they are, not as they should be. He doesn't romanticize suffering or evil—he acknowledges them. For a long time, that made him an emotionless man. Not because he lacked emotion… but because he never learned how to use it."
Nyk exhaled quietly.
"When I saw him seven months ago," Azelar went on, "before he left to train alone… he was different."
Nexus looked up.
"I could tell," Azelar said, meeting her eyes, "that it was because of you. And because of them." He gestured gently toward Nyk and Christine. "And now… because he is a father."
Nexus swallowed.
"He won't be used to it at first," Azelar said calmly. "He won't know how to respond to love, or tenderness, or fear that isn't his own. But he'll learn. Through you. Through the child."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Rayon isn't a hero. He isn't a villain. But he's a good man nonetheless."
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then—
The shadows along the stone wall moved.
Not stretched.
Not flickered.
They stood up.
A shape peeled itself free from the darkness, silent and smooth, like night given form. A massive black panther stepped forward, its body carved of shadow so deep it drank the light around it.
Its eyes—
Stars.
Cold, distant, ancient.
Christine's breath caught.
Nyk's hand twitched instinctively.
The panther walked past them without hostility, every step deliberate, power restrained with terrifying precision. It stopped in front of Nexus.
Then it bowed.
Low.
Respectful.
The air trembled faintly.
The beast lowered its head and sniffed gently at Nexus's belly. The star-filled eyes softened—then the massive shadow collapsed inward, shrinking, condensing, until a smaller panther leapt lightly upward and landed in her lap.
Warm.
Alive.
Purring.
Nyk stared.
"That's…"
Nexus smiled, one hand instinctively moving to stroke its head.
"Yes," she said softly. "It's Rayon."
The panther's tail flicked lazily.
"It took that form because of him," Nexus continued. "This is a beast from the Sea of Death. A Typhon."
Azelar's eyes sharpened—not in fear, but recognition.
"In its true form," Nexus said, "it's a colossal shadow entity. A body like a living void, riddled with countless red lethal eyes. Its shadow stretches like a giant serpent, with a mouth large enough to swallow cities."
Christine listened, awed.
"It has unparalleled strength," Nexus went on. "Near-invincibility. Control over shadow and black shadow fire. It can spew venom, hurl mountains, create tornadoes of darkness…"
She smiled faintly.
"And it can devour the sun of Averis."
The small panther yawned.
Nyk let out a slow breath. "Figures."
Nexus laughed softly, scratching under its chin.
The Typhon purred louder—content, protective, unmistakably present.
A family guardian.
A shadow shaped by love.