Page 66 of Shadow's Claim

"How much farther to the Anomaly?" I ask, trying to keep the exhaustion from my voice. We've been walking for hours, putting distance between ourselves and the cave where Obscura nearly captured us.

Kael pauses, his massive form scanning the horizon. Two of his four arms maintain constant contact with us—one supporting my back with surprising gentleness, another creating shadow-shield above our heads—while the others probe the darkness ahead, testing and sensing in ways I'm only beginning to understand.

"Two days at this pace," he answers, concern evident in his glowing eyes as they turn to me. Not the cold assessment of my first days of captivity, but something warmer, more personal. "But you require rest. The birth has depleted your strength."

That's an understatement. Despite the weird shadow-energy flowing through me, I'm running on fumes. My legs feel like they're made of pudding, and every step sends waves of exhaustion through my body.

"We can't stop," I argue, even as I sway slightly on my feet. "Obscura's forces?—"

"Cannot track us temporarily," Kael interrupts, shadows expanding to create a small dome of darkness around us. The protective gesture comes naturally to him now, no longer a display of dominance but something closer to care. "Our daughter's abilities have disrupted normal shadow pathways. We have hours, at minimum."

Our daughter. The words still sound strange, like something from someone else's life. Six months ago, I was a resistance fighter specializing in translation and intelligence gathering. Now I'm carrying a half-shadow demon baby with powers that apparently scare even the Sovereign. Life comes at you fast in the post-Conquest world.

As if sensing my thoughts, our daughter stirs against my chest, her consciousness brushing against my mind with curious tendrils. Not fully awake, but not entirely asleep either. Monitoring. Always aware. The mental touch feels different from Kael's former intrusions—gentle, questioning, almost playful in its exploration.

"Fine," I concede, the decision made easier by legs that threaten to buckle. "Short rest. Just enough to keep moving."

Kael's shadows expand further, creating a surprisingly comfortable nest in this barren landscape. His four arms work with practiced efficiency—two maintaining the protective dome while the others gather what looks like condensation from the air itself, collecting enough water to offer me a drink.

"Here," he says, his upper right hand presenting a shadow-cup of water with unexpected tenderness. "You must remain hydrated for milk production."

The practical concern catches me off guard—another reminder of how much has changed between us. I accept the water with a grateful nod, the cool liquid soothing my parched throat.

I settle into the shadow-nest with grateful sigh, carefully adjusting our daughter against my chest. She makes a small sound—not quite human, not quite shadow demon—and her tiny hand grasps my finger with surprising strength.

"She's developing faster than normal hybrid offspring," Kael observes, settling his massive form beside us. His proximity no longer makes me tense with fear or revulsion. When did that change? "The shadow patterns have already formed conscious connections."

"Is that good or bad?" I ask, watching the delicate patterns shift beneath her skin. "This can't be normal."

"There is no normal for what she is," he responds, one hand gently touching our daughter's head. The gesture holds a reverence I never expected to see from him. "First-generation hybrids typically show minimal shadow manipulation until adolescence. She displayed Sovereign-level abilities within minutes of birth."

Great. My baby girl isn't just special—she's super-powered-reality-bending special. That won't put a target on her back or anything.

"Obscura won't stop hunting us," I say, voicing the fear that's been building since her birth. "If anything, this makes her more valuable to the Morphos Project."

Kael's shadows darken around us, his massive form tensing at the mention of Obscura's experimental program. "The Anomaly remains our best option. Its dimensional instabilities prevent shadow tracking."

He hesitates, then adds in a lower tone, "I will not allow them to take her." The simple declaration carries weight beyond its words—a promise from someone who once represented everything I feared.

Our daughter's consciousness suddenly flares against my mind—not distressed but intensely focused. Her eyes open, those purple-glowing irises fixing on something I can't see. Her tiny hands reach toward the eastern horizon, shadow patterns beneath her skin pulsing with increased intensity.

"What is it?" I ask, though I'm not sure if she can understand me yet. "What do you see?"

The answer comes not in words but in impressions—darkness moving with purpose, six-armed shadows extending across vast distances, calculated pursuit adjusting to new information. Obscura, recovering more quickly than we expected.

"They've found our trail," Kael confirms, already gathering shadows to collapse our temporary shelter. "The Sovereign has deployed elite trackers."

So much for hours of rest. We've barely had twenty minutes.

I struggle to my feet, cradling our daughter close as Kael's four arms work to erase all traces of our presence. The shadow-nest dissolves into nothingness, absorbed back into his midnight-black skin.

"Which way?" I ask, scanning the barren landscape that offers little concealment.

Before Kael can answer, our daughter's consciousness pushes against both our minds simultaneously. Not random infant thoughts but directed guidance—images of underground caverns, hidden water sources, paths invisible from the surface but accessible through specific shadow manipulation.

"She knows the way," Kael says, shadows extending from his form to merge with the faint patterns our daughter projects. There's wonder in his voice, perhaps even pride. "She sees paths I cannot."

I look down at the tiny being in my arms, those glowing eyes now fixed on mine with awareness that should be impossible in a newborn. "How?" I whisper, both amazed and slightly terrified by what she already is.

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