Page 175 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

The words trigger confusion, sending ice through my veins even as my mind struggles to process the implication hidden in that single word.

Again?

Time freezes as I turn toward the open door, reality fracturing around what should be impossible.

The woman standing there could be my reflection, if mirrors could age their subjects by decades and polish every rough edge into deadly elegance.

Her baseline teal green hair falls past her waist in loose curls that speak of carefully maintained luxury rather than my own experimental ombre. The style gives her an ethereal quality, each strand catching light like liquid silk.

Where my coloring shows signs of Ravenscroft's attempts at categorization, hers carries deliberate artistry that transforms unusual shade into a mark of distinction.

The black dress she wears clings to her frame with expensive precision, the material flowing like water over curves that time has somehow enhanced rather than diminished.

Every movement speaks of practiced grace, from the subtle shift of fabric to the way her heels catch light with an unmistakable quality that screams wealth beyond measure.

But it's the tattoos that truly catch my attention – intricate designs that wind their way across the exposed skin of her neck and chest like living art.

Each mark appears deliberate, carrying meaning beyond mere decoration.

A single pendant rests against her collarbone, golden metal catching light in ways that seem to defy normal physics.

The symbol etched into its surface triggers something in my memory – an echo of dreams where similar markings danced through the darkness while an ethereal voice sang lullabies of comfort and protection.

The two guards flanking her maintain perfect stillness, their tactical gear, and obvious weaponry marking them as elite protection rather than mere muscle. Their focus remains absolute, scanning surroundings with military precision while carefully avoiding direct observation of the scene unfolding before them.

But it's her eyes that truly steal my breath – perfect mirrors of my own, yet carrying the weight of decades lived in full awareness rather than clinical captivity.

Wisdom earned through experience rather than torture shapes the slight lines at their corners, while power radiates from their depths with an intensity that makes my enhanced senses hum with recognition.

These are the eyes that haunted my dreams, that watched through forest shadows as death circled ever closer.

These are the eyes that shed tears for my fall while tactical gear and sniper rifle marked their owner as something far more dangerous than a mere observer.

My mouth opens but words fail completely.

What question could possibly encompass the magnitude of this moment? What response could bridge decades of separation and silence?

She saves me from the attempt, her voice carrying notes that strike deeper than mere sound.

"Nyx Blackwood."

The name emerges weighted with emotion, her eyes beginning to glass over despite an obvious attempt at control.

"Good thing we stopped you on time."

"Who?" The question slips out small and uncertain, though part of me already knows the answer will shatter whatever reality I thought I understood.

"Astraelle Blackwood." Each word falls with precise impact, reshaping my world with every syllable. "CEO and leader of all the SubDivision Units of The Parazodiac Nexus."

She pauses deliberately, watching shock spread across my features as implications stack up like dominoes waiting to fall.

"It would be best if we go inside to discuss the next steps that must be taken," she continues with careful precision, "especially with your subdivision of Alphas involved."

The world seems to tilt on its axis as understanding begins to dawn.

"Did you just say the Leader of all Subdivisions of The Parazodiac Nexus?" Kieran's voice breaks through my stunned silence. His hand finds mine, pulling me back against his chest in a protective gesture that speaks of an instinctive need to shield.

The movement allows our visitor passage as she glides into the house, her guards closing the door to take up position outside.

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