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"I-I'm so sorry!" Maria cried, her voice trembling with guilt and sorrow. "I didn't mean to hurt you... I never wanted this. But I think—I think I know where you might have come from."
Her words hung in the air like mist, fragile and uncertain.
Nyx stepped forward instinctively, her hand reaching out to comfort the trembling child. But Maria gently stopped her, placing a firm hand on her daughter's shoulder.
"Mom?" Nyx asked, her voice soft, confused.
"For now, don't make direct contact," Maria said quietly. Her eyes didn't leave the child. "They're very unstable. I know you want to help, but their soul is fragile—like glass under pressure. Just stay close, but not too close."
"...Okay," Nyx replied, her expression falling. She wanted so badly to offer warmth, but she understood. She always did.
"HoMe?"
The child recovered quickly and didn't seem resentful in the slightest.
