The room was silent save for the soft rustle of sheets.
Daemon sat up slowly, stretching his arms with a groan. "It's great to be alive... Dying a second time like this really takes the fun out of things."
Before he could finish another thought, a sudden warmth pressed against his chest.
Nyxtriel had thrown her arms around him, clinging tightly, burying her face into his shoulder.
His crimson eyes widened. Bold wasn't the word he'd ever used for her before—cold, focused, efficient... but this?
He sighed softly and returned the hug, resting a hand on the back of her head.
"I was worried," she said quietly. "Please, Father, don't do something like that again. I know it was part of your plan, but it scared me. Truly."
Daemon had never seen Nyxtriel like this—shaken. Vulnerable. Her voice trembled, her grip clung tighter than steel. He was speechless for a moment.
"Nyxtriel... you don't have to worry. I'm here," he said gently.
