I remembered psychiatrists. Healers. Doctors.
Medications.
Incantations.
Tinctures.
Whispered conversations outside locked doors.
Family members exchanging worried looks whenever I spoke too openly about what I saw.
Not one person had asked if maybe the dead little girl talking to spirits wasn’t hallucinating.
They’d simply wanted me quieter.
Easier.
More manageable.
“I am not crazy and I never was,” I said softly.
Menon’s tail tightened around my waist protectively.
“That’s right, Luna,” he said coldly beside me. “You’re not crazy.”
My mother’s gaze flicked toward him sharply.
“And you think you are good for her? You encourage her delusions!”
Delusions.
The word detonated something inside me.
Blue sparks jumped violently from my fingertips.
The air around us crackled.
Nearby lanterns flickered hard enough several passing students startled.
Menon immediately rested one calming hand against my lower back.
Not restraining.
Grounding.
“Mother,” I said slowly, my voice shaking now from anger instead of fear, “I literally attend a multiversal magical graduate institution hidden between realities and I’m standing here now beside my mate who is basically a celestial Monster prince and I am telling you, I am done. You’ve got to stop trying to manage me!”
I gestured broadly around us.
“As for delusions, at what point exactly does any of this become too unrealistic for you?”
Dr. Childs choked suddenly on what sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
Even Menon made a low amused sound beside me.
My mother, unfortunately, remained entirely humorless.
“You have always been emotional,” Mother insisted tightly.
