The baby cried, and for one terrible heartbeat Aira thought the root gate had found its way back into the sound.Kael went rigid beside her, one arm locked around Liora, the other catching Aira before she could stumble into the rain. The blackness at the edge of his eye surged hard, then thinned by a breath when Aira shoved warmth through the bond with everything she had left, every memory of him, every fierce moment he had held her through fear, every promise made in blood and heat and desperate love. “Kael,” she whispered, trembling but fierce, “stay with me. Do not answer the cry. Hold her. Hold on to me.” His breath came ragged and torn. The tiny hand in his palm twitched once and stilled. The newborn in his arms cried again, small and shaky, and this time Aira heard the difference at once. It was not the root gate answering. It was fear. Just fear. The child was frightened by the rain, by the blood, by the body of its grandmother shaking in front of them, and it was calling for t
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