"She's still not awake?"
I didn't need to turn. I knew that voice.
"…No," I replied.
Her steps were soft but deliberate as she entered the room, carrying a presence that had never needed permission. I finally looked at her. Amanda. Nothing about her had changed—strong, composed, unshaken. The same girl my father brought back from war years ago, the same one who grew up under this roof, who stood beside me through everything and never left.
Her eyes moved past me, settling on the bed. On her.
For a moment, Amanda said nothing. She simply watched, studying Baby in a way that felt less like curiosity and more like quiet judgment.
"…This is her?" she asked.
I didn't answer. I didn't need to.
She stepped closer, slow and controlled, as if approaching something unfamiliar—or something she already disliked. "She doesn't look like much," Amanda said quietly.
The air in the room shifted.
"That's enough," I said.
She stopped, not out of fear, but she didn't move any closer either. A faint smile touched her lips, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Still the same," she murmured. "Protective."
Silence stretched between us before she turned slightly to face me. "You've been absent," she said. "Meetings delayed. Orders reassigned. Territory matters left unresolved. That's not like you."
"I had reason," I replied.
Her gaze returned to Baby. "This?" she asked softly.
Something in my chest tightened. "Yes."
The answer came without hesitation.
Amanda went still for a brief moment, then exhaled slowly. "I see." She folded her arms lightly. "You built everything we have through control. You fought wars, took down corrupted packs, and brought creatures under one rule. I was there."
I didn't respond. Because she was right.
"I watched you become this," she continued, stepping closer again. "The Alpha. The Sovereign."
Her words carried history.
"And now…" she added quietly, "…everything shifts because of her?"
"She's not just anyone," I said.
Amanda's gaze sharpened. "So the rumors are true."
"What rumors?"
"The witch spoke," she replied calmly. "She said the one they tried to erase has returned." She paused, then added, "She called her the Chosen Goddess."
The room fell silent.
Amanda looked back at Baby, this time longer, something unreadable passing through her expression. "…And you believe that?" she asked.
"I don't ignore what I can't explain," I replied.
She let out a soft breath, a faint bitterness slipping into her tone. "That's new."
Then her eyes returned to mine. "I've stood by you for years, Cyris. Through war, through blood, through everything that built this world around you. I know what it cost."
I held her gaze, but said nothing.
"And I won't watch it fall apart," she continued, "…because of someone who just appeared."
"That won't happen," I said.
Amanda studied me carefully. "Are you sure?" she asked quietly. "She's already changing things."
Her gaze dropped briefly to Baby. "You feel it."
She wasn't asking.
"I'll handle it," I said.
Amanda remained silent for a moment, then slowly stepped back. Before turning, she looked at Baby one last time—not with curiosity, not with fear, but with something far more dangerous.
"…Then she better be worth it," Amanda said softly. "And she better wake up soon."
Her eyes lifted to mine again. "Because if she isn't…"
She didn't finish.
She didn't need to.
Then she turned and walked out, the door closing quietly behind her. But the weight she left behind stayed.
I looked back at Baby, still unmoving, still silent. And for the first time, I understood something clearly.
This wasn't just about protecting her anymore.
It was about choosing sides.