Gone were the statues, the divine gates, the trees, and the sky.
Now there was only white. Endless, infinite white. Like they'd stepped into the very space between time and being—where memories weren't fragmented, just paused. There was no sound. No sky. No ground. Just them.
Parker held her. Still. Not like a warrior. Not like a god.
Her little arms clung tightly to his neck, her face buried into his collarbone, tears soaking the fabric as quiet sobs trembled through her body. She didn't shake like someone afraid—she shook like someone whose heart had finally stopped breaking after years of holding it all in.
Her voice was cracked and muffled.
"Daddy… I missed you… I missed you so, so much…"
It shattered him. Every syllable. Every tear. Every breathless hiccup she tried to swallow. Her voice wasn't trained. It wasn't careful. It was raw and young and heartbroken. "I tried to be brave. Auntie said I had to stay hidden until you remembered everything… until you awakened for real. But I didn't want to wait. I wanted to see you. I kept telling her—I don't care if he doesn't remember me—I just wanna see him."
Parker closed his eyes..His arms wrapped tighter around her—gently, reverently—as if she was the only truth that mattered in all the multiverses he'd broken.
She clung to him like time was trying to steal him again. "I waited two whole lives, Daddy…" she whispered. "And every day… I thought about you. Even when I was told not to."
Parker leaned his forehead against hers, his voice low and cracked—but still gentle, still warm.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I made you wait this long, crybaby."
She hiccuped into his neck, voice wobbling with snot and truth. "I'm not a crybaby…"
He smiled softly, stroking her hair—hair that shimmered like galaxies when the light kissed it right.
"You've always been my crybaby." His voice was teasing now, warm and indulgent. "You used to cry when you ran out of candy, remember?"
Nyxavere pulled back just enough to glare at him through soaked lashes, her cheeks red and puffed. "You promised you wouldn't tell anyone about that!"
Parker smirked. "There's no one here but us, we can talk freely."
"…Still." She pouted, then tucked her face back into his neck. "You still suck at secrets sometimes."
"...But I still love you the most."
They stayed like that—no rush, no clock ticking overhead, no gods whispering.
Just father and daughter, hidden in a realm even the heavens couldn't reach. His fingers stroked down her back gently, keeping her close, listening to the small sobs slow into sniffles.
She mumbled, her words soft like feathers. "Are we together now… for real?"
Parker kissed the top of her head, pulling her even closer into his arms like the universe would have to rip through him if it wanted to take her again.
"Forever," he whispered.
"Even if I cry again?"
"Even if you flood the whole damn world, Cuteball."
She giggled through her sniffles and buried herself deeper into his warmth, cheeks squished against his chest like she wanted to merge with him entirely.
And for the first time in centuries—across all his lives, all his blood, all his crowns—
Parker gently pulled back from the hug, just enough to breathe again. His arms loosened—but Nyxavere didn't let go. Her small hand stayed wrapped around his, tight like a lifeline, and even as her tear-soaked lashes fluttered, she looked up at him with that wide, raw gaze. The kind of look that made time feel like it should pause again just for her.
Parker didn't say a word.
He didn't ask her to let go. Hell, he knew better than that. She wasn't going to. And the truth was… he didn't want her to. So he moved with her, still holding hands, her fingers clamped between his like she thought he'd vanish again if she blinked too long.
She was really going to be trouble.
Even as they walked, his mind wandered to the lives before this one. He remembered how clingy she'd always been—how no woman in his bed ever stood a chance against her. No one lasted more than a few hours around Parker before being pushed aside by his daughter's soft pout, demanding hugs and bedtime stories and candy-fueled pillow talks that lasted until she fell asleep drooling across his chest.
His lovers learned to wait. Two hours after bedtime—that was all the time they got.
Not even the cruel ones. Not even the divinely spoiled ones. Because she was Nyxavere—Cuteball—and they all loved her more than they expected. Maybe more than they should've. She had that way of breaking through people's defenses like she didn't even notice they were there.
He was the worst offender.
He spoiled her just as much as everyone else, if not worse.
The two of them now walked through the white expanse like dreamwalkers. Silent steps, endless space. The air around them buzzed with the faint hum of dimensional tension—like even this realm was breathing slower just to give them more time.
He lifted a single hand and waved it forward.
Instantly, the white blankness shimmered and bent. From it, a wall emerged—seamless, smooth, shining like light incarnate. It rose in front of them like the face of memory itself.
At its center was a single button. Nothing fancy. No guards. No drama.
Just a smooth biometric panel glowing faintly in the white. Parker gave her a little nudge. She tilted her head, confused.
"Your finger," he said softly. "Only you can open it."
Her expression lit up with curiosity. With his hand guiding hers, she pressed her index finger to the panel. The light scanned it for barely a second—then clicked.
A compartment quietly slid out from the wall, like the realm had been waiting a lifetime to give this moment back to her.
Not gold. Not silver. Just white.
A pure white ring, matte and polished, smooth like bone, yet woven with living runes that flickered in languages not yet invented. The glyphs shifted softly like they were breathing—like the ring was watching everything and dreaming at the same time.
The air turned colder.
Even here, in the safety of nothingness, Parker felt it.
His eyes flinched toward it—and instantly, his vision seared. A white-hot sting like stars collapsing behind his eyelids hit him. He turned away without thinking, blinking hard.
"Don't stare too long," he muttered, voice rasping slightly. "Even I can't hold its gaze."
Nyxavere stared at the ring, mesmerized. Her tiny hand hovered just inches from it. The air around her shimmered faintly. Her aura… shifted.
Parker said nothing more.
Because the ring had chosen its moment.
And she had always been meant to wear it.