Getting to my feet while not jostling Thaniel wasn’t easy, but I managed and then crossed to stand beside him. I followed his line of sight. The Hellmouth we'd built to reinforce the veil between realms and curtail demons getting through this world was next door. It gave him access to the Underworld. I could feel the power thrumming beneath it even from this distance.
"When are you leaving?" I asked.
"Soon." His free arm came around my waist, pulling Thaniel and me against his side. "I don't want to leave you and the babies, but?—"
"But we need answers more than we need you hovering over the cribs." I leaned into him, breathing in his scent of musk and ozone. "Besides, it's not like we're unprotected. Mom, Nana, Nina, and Selene are all here. Tseki, Murtagh, and Layla are right outside. The wards would scream if anything so much as looked at this house wrong."
"That doesn't make it easier." His grip tightened. "Every instinct I have says stay here, stand between them and anything that might hurt them."
"I know." I tilted my head back to look at him properly. "But if you can get us intelligence that will help us be proactive instead of just reacting to attacks, we need to take the chance. Your father might know more about what we're dealing with and how to fight it. That's worth a few hours."
He studied my face for a long moment, then nodded. "I'll leave before first light, be back by mid-morning. Keep your phone on you."
"I always do." I shifted Thaniel to my shoulder and pulled my shirt down without fastening my bra. I could do that when I put him down. My life had come down to picking the most critical tasks.
Melaina began writhing in Aidon's grip. Her little face scrunched with that telltale concentration. Three seconds later,the smell hit. My eyes watered instantly. Aidon made a sound somewhere between a gag and a laugh.
"Styx, baby girl." He held her at arm's length, his nose wrinkling. "You're trying to clear the room? Come on, let's get you sorted before we commit a war crime against everyone's dinner."
A laugh bubbled up from my chest as I watched him stride toward the changing area we’d set up in the living room next to their cribs. Our daughter looked far too pleased with herself as she gazed at her father. Thaniel gurgled against my shoulder, blissfully unaware of his sister's biological warfare.
Around us, the house shifted into something beautifully ordinary. Pots clanged. Voices rose and fell in easy banter. Mythia joined Mom and Nana in the kitchen and turned on some music. It was the kind of simple, chaotic domesticity that had nothing to do with the darkness we faced and everything to do with just... living.
These moments—the messy, imperfect, and utterly mundane ones—were the ones that stitched my heart back together. The ones worth fighting for. And not just for my family. We ate dinner, and I fed the babies again, then put them down.
At some point, I had fallen asleep and woke to the sensation of Aidon's lips against my temple. The sky outside was still dark. "I'm leaving," he murmured. "Should be back in a few hours."
"Be careful," I mumbled, half-asleep.
His chuckle was the last thing I heard before exhaustion dragged me back under. When consciousness returned, pale morning light filtered through the curtains, and the babies were making their pre-cry warm-up noises. I checked my phone. It was 7:23 AM. Aidon had been gone for almost two hours.
Nina appeared in the doorway as I was lifting Thaniel from his crib. "Morning. Where's Aidon?"
"Underworld. He took that residue sample and the stroller to Hades." I settled into the rocking chair with Thaniel. "He should be back soon."
"Want help?" She was already reaching for Melaina, who'd started fussing in earnest.
"Please. I swear they coordinate their timing."
We shifted into the controlled chaos we'd perfected since the triplets were born. It had come from sheer necessity and a whole lot of trial by fire. I settled into the chair with Thaniel, his tiny fists already kneading against my chest as he latched on, while Nina swept Melaina up with the practiced efficiency of someone who'd changed more diapers than any teenager should ever have to.
"I've got her," my daughter said as she headed for the changing table. Seventeen years old, and she moved like a seasoned combat medic. Then again, fighting Lyra during my pregnancy and raising three demigod babies required nothing less than a small army.
Mom glided past, that knowing smile playing at her lips. "I'll warm a bottle."
Of course, she would. Because somehow, she always knew—with that uncanny mother's intuition—that both girls would decide they were starving at the exact same moment, and I only had two breasts. Basic math was not in my favor.
Nyssa watched us from her crib with her stunning purple eyes, tracking what she could see. But she didn't fuss yet. She was working up to it. She was rarely content to wait her turn. She understood the hierarchy of needs better than most adults.
"Can I ask you something?" Nina said suddenly, her voice careful.
"Always," I promised her.
"How do you do this?" She gestured at the babies, at me, at everything. "How do you just keep going when you're terrified?"
Mom returned with the bottle and handed it to Nina so she could feed her while she picked up Nyssa. Mom silently began changing my purple-eyed nugget while Nina picked Melaina up and went to the other rocker with the bottle.
I looked at my teenage daughter, at the fear naked on her face, and my heart twisted. "Honestly? I don't think about it too much. I just know falling apart isn't an option when you guys need me."
