Rising Tides

The morning after brought little rest. The estate pulsed with a different kind of energy—quiet, calculated, bracing for the next storm.

Gina stood by the strategy table in the war room, her fingers brushing over the screen map where Elara's signal had last flared. Her thoughts, however, wandered. Not to Elara. Not to Richard. But to Davina.

She'd watched her daughter change—no longer the wide-eyed girl with innocent curiosity. Davina now studied architecture layouts, memorized enemy formations, and woke from sleep to pace the floors with dreams of battle.

Houna once said, "A lioness doesn't birth lambs."

It was true. Davina was becoming a storm all her own.

---

In the eastern wing, Davina stood before a mirror, lacing up her combat vest.

Her reflection bore little resemblance to the girl who once wrote poetry in secret. Her braid was tight, her posture sharp. The scars on her shoulder hadn't healed completely from the Scorpion attack.

She didn't mind. They were proof.

A soft knock came.

Dave entered, eyes soft, a tray of breakfast in his hand. "You didn't come down."

"I wasn't hungry."

"You still need to eat," he said gently.

She gave a half-smile. "You sound like Mom."

Dave chuckled, setting the tray down. "That's the biggest compliment I've ever gotten."

They sat together for a long moment, the silence filled with unsaid questions.

"Did you ever think," she said suddenly, "that love and war could come from the same blood?"

Dave's smile faded. "Every day. Since I was your age."

Davina turned her eyes to the window. "I'm ready to fight."

"You already are."

---

Meanwhile, in the forgotten city beneath Prague, Nuel stood before a panel of eleven.

Only two were real. The rest, projections—figures of immense power who ruled shadows beyond borders.

He delivered a message: "Richard Lansing must fall. He has awakened powers older than any of us agreed to ever call upon again."

A voice crackled through the speaker. "And you suggest we do what? Join the girl?"

"She's not just a girl. She's the legacy of Michaels. And she has Elara on her heels. We pick a side now—or risk falling when the scales break."

No response.

Until one voice said, "And if she fails?"

Nuel's reply was sharp. "She won't."

He turned and left.

---

Back at the estate, Gina stepped out onto the balcony again, where Dave waited.

She looked at him, at the sunrise, and down at her stomach. A hand brushed across her abdomen. He noticed.

"You're sure you're ready for this?" he asked.

"No," she answered. "But I'm ready for her."

---

At that moment, far across the world, Elara stood before the wreckage of her secondary base—decimated by Gina's men three nights ago.

Her lip bled where she'd bitten it too hard.

She turned to her lieutenant. "We underestimated the girl. And her father."

He bowed. "What's next?"

She whispered: "Next… we erase everything she loves."

The hunt wasn't over.

It was only just beginning.

And Davina? She was waiting.

Not as a child.

But as a queen in the making.