Jason walked through the cottage door, Lirael cradled gently in his arms. The baby's mismatched eyes blinked curiously at the new surroundings, her tiny fingers reaching for the wooden beams above. She cooed softly, a sound so pure and joyful that it seemed to fill the entire cottage with warmth.
Ylva and Mae stood in the center of the room, their expressions shifting from curiosity to something far more guarded the moment they saw Tauriel standing behind him.
Mae's eyes narrowed first. She had never met Tauriel, but she could feel the weight of her presence—the power coiled just beneath the surface, the centuries of experience, the unmistakable aura of someone who had once ruled with an iron fist. Still, Mae knew right away that the baby belonged to Jason. The resemblance was undeniable. The shape of her face, the color of one of her eyes, the way she tilted her head when something caught her attention—it was all Jason, distilled into something small and new.
