The deep, quiet hours of the night had always belonged entirely to Silas. As the God of Truth and the absolute master of the void, the darkness was his sanctuary. He was a creature forged in the absolute absence of light, conditioned to move silently through the shadows to execute the brutal will of the High Pantheon.
But as the grandfather clock in the hallway softly chimed two in the morning, Silas realized that quietly dismantling a highly fortified mortal empire was significantly easier than soothing a crying infant.
The master bedroom was bathed in the pale, gentle light of a full summer moon. The cosmic war was permanently over, but a completely new, biological battle was currently raging near the wooden crib.
The silver haired baby girl was incredibly fussy. Her tiny face was scrunched up, and she was letting out a series of highly demanding, piercing wails that completely shattered the peaceful silence of the manor.
