The Alpha’s Shattered Mate: Her Secret Triplets
I stood at the primary resonance console of the First Mother’s Breath, my Tempered Heart drumming a steady sixty beats per minute, a rhythm I had to maintain as the universal metronome for the entire planet.
"The ocean is losing its surface tension, Elara!" Aethel projected, their indigo form flickering with a panicked violet light. "If the quartz dissolves, the floating islands will fall, and our history will be erased in the steam."
"We aren't going to let that happen, Aethel," I replied, my voice a vibrant, clinical melody that cut through the static. "Initiate the Global Suture. We’re going to sew this planet back into the fabric of the galaxy."