The protective ritual was beautiful in its complexity.
Sarah had drawn intricate symbols across our bedroom floor in silver chalk, each marking pulsing with soft moonlight. Candles flickered at the cardinal points, their flames dancing in colors that didn't exist in nature. The air hummed with magic so thick I could taste it—lavender and starlight and something deeper, older.
"This is ancient magic," Sarah explained as she worked, her hands steady despite the magnitude of what she was attempting. "Pre-werewolf, pre-vampire. This is the magic that protected the first supernatural children when the world was young and dangerous."
I knelt in the center of the circle, Dante beside me, his hand resting protectively over my stomach. The baby was barely the size of a grain of rice, but I could
