NARRATOR

Silas froze. He wasn’t fond of physical contact unless it was with Sigrid, but he endured the embrace stoically and didn’t act rudely.

Despite the awkward moments, that afternoon, Silas reclaimed a small piece of his family. Still, deep inside, the only family he truly acknowledged was the woman by his side.

All the love in his heart was for her. Everything else had withered away.

Seizing a moment alone while his aunt dragged Sigrid to the kitchen to help with the afternoon tea, Silas approached the baby in the crib.

The dark tattoos no longer stayed confined to the child’s face—they were creeping, slowly consuming his tiny body.

Silas extended two fingers, placing them on the baby’s forehead. Instantly, the dark magic writhed, resisting, fighting against being expelled.

The baby let out a cry of pain.

That malignant energy refused to leave, but Silas’s power commanded it to obey a new master.

Sigrid cast an illusion to deceive the aunt so she wouldn’t hear the child’s cries.