Chapter Forty-Six: The Daughter of the Future

The night in Camelot was calm, the air filled with the faint hum of activity as the team settled into their routines. In a private chamber on the upper floors, Alora and Christopher lay entwined, their shared warmth and the soft rustle of sheets a brief respite from the chaos of their world.

Christopher took a long drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing faintly in the dim light. "You're good at this whole 'saving the world' thing," he said with a lazy grin. "But I think I've got you beat at doing nothing."

Alora chuckled, tracing a finger along his chest. "Someone has to balance out your endless charm, Christopher."

Before he could reply, the room was suddenly bathed in a brilliant blue light. A swirling vortex opened in the air above the bed, its edges crackling with energy.

"What the bloody hell—" Christopher started, reaching instinctively for his pants.

From the wormhole, two figures emerged—older, wearier versions of themselves. Future Alora's hair was streaked with silver, her face lined with worry. Future Christopher looked ragged, his usual swagger replaced by urgency.

"It's not safe in the future," Future Alora said, her voice strained. "We need you to raise our child. The aliens are coming—you have three years."

Before either of them could process her words, an explosion ripped through the vortex. Future Christopher turned, shouting something inaudible before the wormhole began to destabilise.

"Take her!" Future Alora yelled, tossing a bundled infant through the vortex.

The baby landed softly on the bed, wailing as the wormhole collapsed in on itself with a deafening crack.

Alora and Christopher stared at the baby in stunned silence. A small note was tucked into the folds of the blanket.

Christopher picked it up, his hands uncharacteristically shaky as he read aloud:

"My name is Elusona. I'm the daughter of the World-Shaman and Shadowleaf. In three years, an alien race will invade Earth, killing all the men and enslaving the women they can capture. Arthur's plan must be accelerated. Protect me. Prepare for war."

He finished reading and took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke.

"Well," he said, his voice calm but incredulous, "I love you, Alora. I didn't know we were going to have children this soon. Hell, I didn't even think we were that serious!"

Alora, still clutching the crying infant, glared at him. "Not the time for jokes, Christopher!"

He gestured at the baby. "I'm not joking! This is a baby! Our baby! From the future! If that doesn't scream 'time to panic,' I don't know what does."

Alora cradled the child closer, her voice softening as she rocked her. "She's so small... and she looks like us."

Christopher sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Of course she does. Genetics, time travel, apocalyptic warnings—just another day in Camelot."

"Christopher," Alora said, her tone more serious now. "This changes everything."

"No kidding," he muttered. "We're parents now. And apparently, the world's on a clock."

The next morning, the Vanguard of Avalon gathered in the great hall. Alora stood with Elusona in her arms, while Christopher leaned against the table, looking as nonchalant as someone in his situation could manage.

Arthur was the first to speak, his gaze steady. "What is this about?"

Alora hesitated, then told them everything—the wormhole, the warning, the child from the future. By the end of her story, the room was silent, the weight of the revelation settling over them like a storm cloud.

"Three years," Lumina said finally, her glow flickering. "That's not much time."

"It's enough," Arthur said firmly. "If we act now, we can prepare."

Firebrand crossed his arms, his flames flickering faintly. "And how exactly are we supposed to fight off an alien invasion? This isn't exactly a sci-fi movie."

Fantasia stepped forward, her glowing eyes narrowing. "It's not impossible. I've seen alien tech before. If we pool our knowledge and resources, we can create weapons and defences. But it'll take everything we've got."

Arthur looked to Alora and Christopher, his voice steady. "This child represents our future. If we are to succeed, we must protect her at all costs. And we must accelerate our efforts to unite this land."

Christopher snorted. "Nothing like a looming apocalypse to light a fire under you, huh?"

Alora shot him a warning look but said nothing.

Arthur continued, his gaze sweeping the room. "We have three years to build an army, strengthen our alliances, and prepare for the greatest threat this world has ever faced. This is our duty. This is our destiny."

The team exchanged uncertain glances but ultimately nodded in agreement.

That night, Christopher sat on the edge of their bed, watching as Alora rocked Elusona to sleep.

"I wasn't joking, you know," he said quietly. "I didn't think we were this serious."

Alora looked at him, her expression soft but determined. "Neither did I. But here we are."

He smiled faintly, lighting another cigarette. "Guess it's time to grow up, huh?"

Alora chuckled softly. "You'll always be Christopher. But maybe... now you'll be Dad, too."

Christopher exhaled a plume of smoke, his grin widening. "Dad, huh? Never thought I'd hear that."

"Get used to it," Alora said, her voice warm. "We have a lot to do. And we're in this together."

Christopher nodded, his gaze shifting to the sleeping child. "Together."