"Ready?" Azryth asked, which had become our ritual before walking into dimensional nightmares.
"No," I said honestly, looking at the Sydney gate swirling with deep blue-green water. "But let's do it anyway."
Khaos was pressed against my shoulder in his familiar furball form, but I couldn't look at him the same way anymore.
Not after this morning.
Not after seeing him kneel and call me Master.
I'd told Azryth everything during our bath earlier—the formal presentation, the assurance that I hadn't brought destruction, the request to remain my son. I'd felt his shock, his protective fury at the weight being placed on me, his determination to stand beside me regardless of what my past had been.
And his quiet acceptance that Khaos had chosen family over servitude.
Now we stood at the gate with Mara, Henrik, and Ryota, and the atmosphere felt different than it had yesterday.
