The wind whistled between them.
Susanoo stared at her.
Then, slowly, his expression changed.
He had been prepared to fight her. In fact, he'd been looking forward to it, in a way. There was something deeply satisfying about crushing the arrogance of someone who dared to stand against him.
But Duyên was no ordinary opponent.
Her power had already been calculated at the level of a newborn god—a newly ascended divine being, though she had yet to receive official recognition. And those indigo eyes of hers were unmistakable.
Luna's blessing.
The mere thought of that name made his jaw tighten.
He hated those eyes.
He hated what they represented even more.
Still, fighting her here would be a waste of time. The world was collapsing around them, and there were more important matters to attend to.
Besides, the child was the reason he had come.
Perhaps there was another way.
"Interesting," he murmured.
Duyên raised an eyebrow. "What is?"
"Your connection to this child."
For the first time, something in Duyên's expression shifted. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but Susanoo caught it.
He smiled.
"Ah. So you do know something."
"I know you're holding a baby in the middle of a frozen wasteland while the entire planet is falling apart. That's already enough to tell me you're not winning any parenting awards."
Susanoo ignored the insult.
"This child possesses a power beyond your comprehension. A force drawn from primordial chaos, vast enough to create an entire civilization—or erase one from existence."
His gaze dropped to the sleeping girl.
"Her power is unstable. It could erupt at any moment. Left unchecked, she might destroy everything around her. Or, given the right circumstances, she could become the foundation of an entirely new world."
Duyên's expression hardened.
She had suspected that the child was special. She hadn't needed a prophecy to tell her that. But hearing Susanoo describe her as a walking catastrophe was enough to make her stomach twist.
"Get to the point."
"Very well."
He shifted the child in his arms, careful not to wake her.
"She has a connection to you. That much is obvious. Rather than waste our time fighting over her, why don't we cooperate?"
Duyên said nothing.
"You help me raise her. Keep her safe, teach her what she needs to know, and ensure that her power develops properly. When she reaches the appropriate age, I will come to collect her."
He paused, letting the offer settle between them.
"Afterward, I will return her to you."
Duyên stared at him.
Then she smiled.
It was a small, agreeable smile. The kind of smile one gave a salesman who had just offered to sell them a bridge.
"That sounds reasonable."
Susanoo's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Does it?"
"Of course. You want me to raise a child for you, and then, when she's old enough to be useful, you'll come back and take her away. What could possibly go wrong?"
His expression darkened.
Duyên tilted her head innocently.
"Sorry. Was that supposed to be the part where I trust you?"
"You would be wise not to test my patience."
"And you'd be wise not to mistake my willingness to listen for stupidity."
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Duyên shrugged.
"Fine. Let's cooperate."
Susanoo's smile returned.
It was the smile of a man who believed he'd won.
He was wrong.
The moment his attention shifted, Duyên moved.
She crossed the distance between them with explosive speed, her indigo eyes flashing in the darkness. Her hand shot toward the child, while her other arm swung toward Susanoo's throat.
He reacted a fraction too late.
The force of her attack tore through the snow, sending a cloud of white powder spiraling into the air. Susanoo staggered backward, his grip loosening as Duyên snatched the child from his arms.
Or rather, as he thought she did.
The little girl remained asleep.
Somehow, despite the violent movement and the freezing wind, she didn't wake up. Duyên almost felt grateful for that small mercy.
Susanoo recovered quickly, his face twisting with fury.
"You little—!"
He lunged after her.
Duyên was already moving.
Her indigo eyes burned with an unnatural light, and the power Luna had bestowed upon her surged through her body. She moved with a speed that seemed to tear at the boundaries of space itself.
Susanoo's hatred intensified.
Those eyes.
Those wretched, indigo eyes.
He knew exactly where that power came from, and the knowledge made him want to rip them from her face.
"Luna's pet!" he snarled.
Duyên barely spared him a glance.
"Wow. You're really hung up on her, aren't you?"
"Do not speak her name!"
"Then stop bringing her up."
He thrust out one hand.
The snow beneath Duyên's feet exploded as a violent surge of energy ripped through the ground. She twisted in midair, narrowly avoiding the blast, and landed several feet away.
For the first time, Susanoo seemed genuinely uncertain.
She was stronger than he'd anticipated.
Much stronger.
And she was fighting as though she had absolutely no intention of letting him leave with the child.
That realization forced him to abandon any pretense of negotiation.
"Enough!"
The ground trembled.
A fissure opened behind him, revealing a river of incandescent lava. Heat washed across the frozen hill, creating a grotesque contrast between the blazing inferno below and the snow that continued to fall from the sky.
Susanoo reached into the air and seized the little girl again.
At least, he thought he had.
He held her out over the molten abyss.
"One more step," he warned, "and I will throw her into the lava."
Duyên stopped.
The wind blew between them.
For a brief moment, she looked genuinely horrified.
Susanoo smiled in satisfaction.
"There. At last, you've learned to behave."
Duyên lowered her hands.
"All right," she said quietly. "Let's not do anything stupid."
"Now you're beginning to understand."
"Put her down first."
"No."
"Susanoo."
The way she said his name made him pause.
There was no fear in her voice. No pleading, either.
Only a cold, restrained anger.
"Put. Her. Down."
His smile widened.
"Or what?"
Duyên looked at him for a long moment.
Then she sighed.
"You really should pay more attention to the people you're threatening."
Susanoo frowned.
"What are you—"
A hand closed around the back of his neck.
His eyes widened.
The little girl in his arms dissolved into a swirl of pale mist.
For one disorienting instant, Susanoo couldn't understand what he was seeing. The child he'd been holding—the child he'd threatened to throw into the lava—had never been real.
It had been an illusion.
A remarkably convincing one, crafted from Duyên's own mist-based magic.
And the real child?
She was already safe in Duyên's arms.
"When did you—"
"While you were telling me how impressive you used to be."
Duyên stood behind him, holding the sleeping girl securely against her chest. Her other hand remained wrapped around his neck, her fingers pressing into the skin just firmly enough to make her point.
Susanoo tried to turn.
He couldn't.
Something in the air had changed.
Duyên's expression was no longer playful. The teasing smile had vanished, replaced by a look so cold that even the freezing wasteland seemed warm by comparison.
"You wanted a deal," she murmured. "Here's mine."
She leaned closer to his ear.
"Forget why you came here."
The words that followed were not spoken in any language Susanoo recognized.
They were older than the kingdoms of men, older than the temples where forgotten gods had once received offerings. Ancient syllables spilled from Duyên's lips, each one carrying a strange weight that made the air vibrate.
The snow stopped falling.
The lava below them pulsed.
Susanoo's eyes widened as the unfamiliar words wrapped around his mind like invisible chains.
"What have you done?"
Duyên tightened her grip.
"You'll forget everything. Why you came here. What you wanted. What you saw."
His body jerked violently as he fought against the spell.
"You cannot—!"
"Oh, I can."
For the first time, Duyên's voice carried no trace of humor.
"And if you ever see me again, I'd recommend keeping your distance."
The silver triangular pendant at her chest began to glow.
A circle of light opened beneath her feet.
Susanoo reached for her, but his fingers closed on nothing.
The world folded inward.
Duyên disappeared.
And Susanoo was left alone on the dying planet, surrounded by snow, fire, and the ruins of a world that would soon be swallowed by its own destruction.
He stood motionless for several seconds.
Then he slowly lowered his hand.
His brow furrowed.
Something was wrong.
He knew that something important had happened here. He could feel the lingering disturbance in his mind, the faint impression of a confrontation he couldn't quite remember.
But the details were gone.
Who had he been looking for?
Why had he come to this place?
And why did the name D... suddenly leave such a bitter taste in his mouth?
Susanoo stared at the horizon.
The ground cracked beneath his feet.
A river of lava surged across the snow, consuming everything in its path.
He took a step backward.
Then another.
Whatever had happened, it would have to wait.
For now, the world was ending.
And he had no idea why.
The transition was violent.
---
One moment, Duyên was falling through a tunnel of silver light. The next, she hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs.
Snow scattered around her.
For several seconds, she lay motionless, staring at the dark sky above.
Then the baby in her arms made a tiny sound.
Duyên immediately sat up.
"Hey, hey. It's okay."
She pulled the little girl closer, checking her face, her hands, and the exposed skin around her neck. The child was still asleep, her cheeks flushed from the cold.
Duyên exhaled shakily.
"God, you're going to give me a heart attack one day."
She had no idea whether the baby could understand her, but talking seemed to help. It gave her something to focus on besides the exhaustion threatening to drag her back into the snow.
She looked around.
A forest of snow-covered trees stretched across the landscape. Farther away, dark mountains rose against the night sky. There were no strange planets, no rivers of lava, no ancient gods threatening to throw babies into molten rock.
Just Earth.
More specifically, Hokkaido, Japan.
Duyên recognized the landscape well enough to know that they were back where they belonged.
She touched the triangular pendant at her chest.
Its silver surface had grown dull, the strange light that had carried her across worlds now reduced to a faint shimmer.
"That was fun," she muttered. "Let's never do that again."
The joke fell flat even to her own ears.
Her arms tightened around the child.
She had seen enough tonight to understand that this wasn't an ordinary baby. Susanoo hadn't been lying about the scale of her power. If anything, he'd seemed genuinely frightened by the possibilities.
A child whose magic could create or destroy civilizations.
A child connected to a prophecy that even a former god had been willing to risk everything to claim.
Duyên looked down at the sleeping face.
Whatever the prophecy said, whatever destiny the universe had prepared for this little girl, none of it mattered to her right now.
The baby was cold.
She was exhausted.
And there were people out there who wanted to use her.
That was enough.
No one can know.
The thought came with absolute certainty.
Not the authorities. Not the supernatural organizations. Not even the people who might believe they had the right to know.
Every additional person who learned about the child would become another potential threat, another person who might try to control her life before she was old enough to understand what life meant.
And the prophecy?
That needed to disappear along with the knowledge of her power.
Duyên couldn't risk letting the wrong people connect the dots.
She shrugged off her outer coat and wrapped it around the baby, tucking the fabric securely around her tiny body. Then she gathered the child against her chest and tried to stand.
Her legs nearly gave out.
She caught herself against a tree.
"Come on," she whispered. "Just a little longer."
But there was no one else she could call. No safe house she could reach in time. And she couldn't afford to let the wrong people discover where they were.
She needed help.
Not just for tonight.
She needed someone she trusted to protect this child even if Duyên herself could no longer do so.
Her gaze dropped to the baby.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I know this isn't the way things are supposed to happen."
The child slept on.
Duyên closed her eyes.
Then she reached deep inside herself.
Past the exhaustion. Past the pain. Past the limits she had always been warned never to cross.
She gathered every remaining fragment of power she possessed and forced it outward.
The first warning came as a sharp, burning sensation behind her eyes.
She ignored it.
The second came when warmth trickled down her cheeks.
Duyên opened her eyes.
Blood had begun to seep from the corners, staining her skin in thin, dark trails.
She gritted her teeth.
"Just... a little more."
The world around her seemed to fall silent.
The wind stopped.
The trees stood motionless.
Even the snowflakes hanging in the air appeared to freeze in place.
Then Duyên released her power.
For a single, impossible instant, a band of indigo and violet swept across the galaxy.
It passed beyond the atmosphere, beyond the distant stars, beyond the boundaries that separated one world from another. It moved like a silent wave through the darkness of space, touching countless unseen places before vanishing into the void.
On Earth, no ordinary person noticed anything.
No news broadcast interrupted its programming. No astronomer suddenly discovered an inexplicable phenomenon. No government agency issued an emergency alert.
But somewhere, people who understood the language of magic felt the universe shudder.
And then, just as quickly as it had come, the sensation disappeared.
Duyên swayed.
Her knees buckled.
She clutched the baby one last time, making sure the child was protected by her coat.
Then she fell into the snow.
The silver pendant dimmed.
And the world went dark.
Shana arrived first.
A flash of light tore through the trees, and she appeared several feet away from Duyên's collapsed body. Mina materialized beside her a heartbeat later, nearly stumbling as the last traces of teleportation magic faded around them.
"Duyên!"
Shana rushed forward.
She dropped to her knees in the snow, her hands hovering over Duyên's bloodied face.
For one terrifying moment, she thought she was too late.
Then she saw the faint rise and fall of Duyên's chest.
"She's alive," Shana whispered.
Mina was already crouching beside them.
"What happened to her?"
"I don't know."
"Then find out!"
"Do you think I'm not trying?"
Shana's voice cracked with panic.
She forced herself to calm down, checking Duyên's pulse and the injuries around her eyes. The blood was alarming, but the more she examined her, the more obvious it became that whatever had happened, Duyên had pushed herself far beyond her limits. She rushed over and hugged Duyên—
Then Shana noticed the bundle in Duyên's arms.
She went still.
"Mina."
"What?"
"Look."
Mina turned.
The little girl lay against Duyên's chest, wrapped in a coat that was far too large for her. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, and her tiny fingers were curled against the fabric.
For a moment, neither woman spoke.
Mina stared at the child.
"Where the hell did she get a baby?"
"I don't know."
"Why does she have a baby?"
"I just said I don't know!"
Shana carefully lifted the child from Duyên's arms, checking that she was breathing.
The baby stirred.
A tiny hand emerged from the coat, opening and closing in the cold air.
Shana immediately wrapped her more securely.
"She's freezing."
Mina looked at Duyên again.
"She teleported us here, nearly bled herself to death, and apparently acquired an entire human child along the way."
"Can you please stop talking like this is a shopping trip?"
"I'm trying to understand the situation!"
"Then try being useful!"
Mina glared at her.
Shana glared back.
The baby made a small, sleepy noise.
Both women fell silent.
For several seconds, the only sound was the wind moving through the trees.
Then Duyên's lips parted.
"Protect..."
Shana leaned closer.
"Duyên? Can you hear me?"
"Protect... her..."
Her voice was barely audible.
Mina crouched beside her.
"Who? Who are we supposed to protect?"
Duyên's fingers twitched against the snow.
"The baby..."
She struggled to open her eyes, but they remained unfocused.
"Her name..."
Shana bent down until her ear was almost against Duyên's lips.
"What is it?"
"Nhi."
The name escaped in a breath so faint that Shana almost missed it.
"Nhi," she repeated softly.
Duyên's expression eased.
"Please..."
Her hand fell limp.
And she lost consciousness.
Shana stared at her for a long moment.
Then she looked down at the baby.
Nhi.
A name. A child. A desperate request from someone who had apparently gone through hell to bring her here.
Shana had a thousand questions.
She also knew that none of them could be answered while they were standing in the middle of a snowy forest with Duyên unconscious and a newborn—or nearly newborn—baby in their arms.
"We're taking them home," she said.
Mina immediately stood.
"No."
Shana looked up.
"What do you mean, no?"
"I mean we're not taking home a random baby."
"She's not a random baby! Duyên practically begged us to protect her."
"Yes, and Duyên also once tried to convince me spared my ex-husband's life, even though he nearly killed her. I love her, but I am not accepting every decision she makes without question."
"This is a child, Mina!"
"I can see that!"
"Then act like it!"
Mina's expression hardened.
She looked at the baby again.
There was something about the child that unsettled her. She couldn't explain it. The girl looked perfectly ordinary, with a round face and tiny hands, but the moment Mina looked into her sleeping face, an inexplicable feeling of resistance rose inside her.
She didn't want the baby.
She didn't want to take her home, didn't want to spend sleepless nights worrying about her, and certainly didn't want to raise another child when their lives were already complicated enough.
More than anything, she didn't want to become attached to someone whose origins they didn't understand.
"What if she's dangerous?" Mina asked quietly.
Shana's anger faltered.
Mina looked at Duyên.
"What if someone is hunting her? What if Duyên brought her here because she couldn't protect her anymore? What if taking her home puts all of us in danger?"
Shana didn't answer immediately.
Those were reasonable questions.
Terrible questions, but reasonable ones.
She glanced at the baby again.
Nhi was so small that Shana could easily cover her entire back with one hand.
"Then we'll deal with it," she said.
Mina gave a disbelieving laugh.
"That's your plan?"
"Do you have a better one?"
"Yes. We take Duyên home, get her medical attention, and contact someone who actually knows how to deal with supernatural threats."
"And tell them what? That Duyên found a mysterious baby in another dimension and asked us to protect her?"
Mina fell silent.
Shana stood carefully, cradling Nhi against her chest.
"We don't know who she is. We don't know what happened. But Duyên does. And whatever she went through tonight, she thought this child was important enough to risk her life for."
She looked directly at Mina.
"I'm not leaving her behind."
Mina stared at her.
She hated this.
She hated the uncertainty, the danger, and the way Shana could make an impossible decision sound so simple.
Most of all, she hated the fact that, deep down, she already knew what she was going to do.
She bent down and lifted Duyên into her arms.
"Fine."
Shana blinked.
"Fine?"
"Don't make me repeat myself."
"You'll help me take care of her?"
"I'll help you keep her alive. That's not the same thing as agreeing to adopt her."
Shana smiled faintly.
"Of course."
"And don't smile at me like that."
"I'm not smiling."
"You're absolutely smiling."
Despite herself, Mina adjusted Duyên's weight in her arms, making sure her head was supported.
Shana tucked Nhi closer against her chest.
The baby opened her eyes for the first time.
They were dark, soft, and impossibly innocent.
She stared up at Shana without making a sound.
For a moment, Shana forgot about the snow, the blood, and the questions that had no answers.
"Hi, Nhi," she whispered.
The baby blinked.
"Let's get you somewhere warm."
And with that, the two women disappeared into the night, carrying with them a child whose existence might one day change the fate of the world.
Neither of them remembered where the baby had come from.
Neither of them knew why Duyên had been willing to sacrifice so much to protect her.
And neither of them could have imagined what it would mean to raise a child born from chaos.