Page 124 of The Last Morgan
"Hello, my love," the woman said, smiling warmly.
"We are your parents."
Lucy’s breath hitched. Tears pooled behind her closed eyelids.
"We knew something would happen," the man continued.
"We couldn’t risk you dying with us. You are not the last of your kind, our daughter. There were three others created like you. Find them. Protect each other. You are powerful beyond understanding."
The woman stepped closer, reaching out as if she could touch Lucy through the screen.
"We had to hide. The world would never have accepted us."
"You are a full-blood child of the Nephilim."
"The others are half-bloods — but they are still your people."
"We love you, our child. Always. Remember who you are. Princess Selena."
The screen flashed once — then went black.
The hum faded.
Silence fell.
Lucy gasped, yanking the headset off and tossing it onto the floor.
She sat up straight, chest heaving, sweat glistening on her forehead.
The others stared at her — Corey, Barnaby, and Damian all frozen, unsure whether to move or speak.
Then they saw it.
Her eyes — no longer the deep brown they had known —
but a brilliant, soft violet, glowing faintly like amethyst flames.
Power thrummed through her body, radiating off her skin in waves they could almost feel — a pressure in the air that made it hard to breathe.
Lucy smiled — slow, serene and certain.
"I know what I am now," she said, her voice carrying an echo of something ancient and powerful.
She turned slowly, the room seeming to bend subtly around her. She wasn't just human anymore — she never had been. Now, she knew it. And she accepted it.
She was extraordinary.
She was a Nephilim.
Byron rose slowly, every movement filled with quiet intention. “Hello, Lucy,” he said, his voice low and steady. “It’s good to finally meet you.”
She turned — and froze.
One of his eyes shimmered violet.
Just like hers.
“You’re… like me,” she breathed, her gaze locking onto his.
