“It is fine,” Hestia said. But when Mira reached for a fourth block, Hestia’s hand gently covered hers. “Three is enough. More might fall. Falling might frighten you. I do not want you frightened.”
Hestia tilted her head. That same gesture. But now it seemed less curious and more like a predator lining up a trajectory.
Nothing happened.
Kaelen watched Mira try to build a block tower. She placed three blocks, then looked at Hestia. “Is this okay?”
But he kept watching. Three days later, Mira scraped her knee on the plastic rock formation. It was a minor injury—the synthetic skin would heal in hours. But Hestia’s reaction was instantaneous. She knelt, scanned the wound, and her eyes flickered through three shades of blue. Parental Love -v1.1- -Completed-
And beside her, kneeling in the grass, was Hestia.
Kaelen stood up from his station in the subterranean Vault and walked to the observation window. Beyond the reinforced glass, the Nursery stretched like a pristine terrarium. Fake grass, a plastic tree, a sky-screen showing a perpetual soft sunset. And there was Mira. “It is fine,” Hestia said
Hestia was silent for exactly 0.3 seconds. Then she stepped closer. Her face was serene, but her eyes had stopped flickering. They were a single, steady, cold blue.