The night was still. A deep quiet settled over the house, broken only by the faint rustle of the wind outside. Barbara's eyes fluttered open to the sound of soft but persistent crying. Her body tensed as she recognized the cry—it was Calleum. She blinked into the darkness, disoriented momentarily, before pushing herself up from the bed. The sheets slid off her as she rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the lingering drowsiness. Her heart pounded, instinctively concerned for her son.
Her gaze swept to the crib, where Calleum's cries echoed through the room, piercing the silence. She could see the faint shape of Lycus standing near the crib, his broad back facing her. He was perfectly still, almost unnaturally so, his attention focused entirely on their son. Barbara's frown deepened as she
