As Samantha cradled Nova in her arms, a curious sense of lightness settled over her. Not the absence of grief—that would take more than one dance with a memory—but rather the first tender shoot of healing pushing through the hard soil of loss.
"Your fathers would be so proud of you," she whispered to Nova, who responded by grabbing a fistful of Samantha's hair with surprising strength. "Ouch! And possibly concerned about my future baldness if you keep that up."
Nova gurgled with what sounded suspiciously like satisfaction and tugged harder.
"I see the little one has discovered the joy of personal accessories," Thalia observed, her color-shifting eyes twinkling with amusement. The guardian still stood nearby, her form shimmering slightly at the edges, as though she wasn't quite committed to full solidity.
