If she knew the truth? The truth that Chione had died, that she was only now clawing her way back through fragmented memories...
Nyxavere would lose it.
She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't break.
She'd find out who was responsible. And they wouldn't survive long enough to beg.
Parker couldn't let that happen. Not yet. The world was still too soft. Olympus still too arrogant. And his daughter... she was still too unanchored and not ready to make an entry into the world. He swallowed hard and lowered himself slightly so they were eye level. His voice came soft, warm, careful—just the right mix of affection and distraction.
"You'll see her soon, Cuteball. But first, I want you to get used to this world. The people around me. Your powers, your body—you've been dormant for a long time. Things might feel… unstable."
She blinked up at him, lips slightly pouted. "So I don't blow things up again?"
He smiled, stroking her hair. "Exactly. Let's try not to detonate anything before bedtime."
She giggled, the worry in her tone already dissolving. "Okay, Daddy. But she better come soon."
He nodded, lying with a calm so refined it could fool the stars. "She will. I promise."
Because had he told her the truth—that Chione didn't remember her yet—Nyxavere would've known exactly what that meant.
She was childish but Nyxavere was no fool. She would trace that thread to its end and realized that someone, somewhere, was responsible for her aunt's death.
And when she learned who?
Not even Olympus would survive the aftermath. And Parker wasn't ready to see the sky collapse at his daughter's hands.
Parker glanced around once more, taking in the perfection of it all—the weightless clothes, the silent reverence, the craftsmanship in every inch—and smiled quietly, not out of pride, but out of recognition. This was not born of just his hand.
The two Phoenixes, ever-loyal, ever-burning, and Chione—her frost-kissed laughter still echoing in forgotten corners of Nyxavere's memories. Her favorites. Her guardians. The ones who spoiled her endlessly when he wasn't around, who protected her in his absence, and who created this space with him for her with the kind of love that burned brighter than the stars and colder than death.
Nyxavere didn't look surprised. She lifted her small hand, still wearing the white ring—her ring—and with a single graceful wave, the entire chamber began to shimmer. No dramatic pulse, no burst of light. Just quiet vanishing. Like a dream gently folding itself away.
The dresses, the robes, the suits—all vanished into the ring. Every enchanted seam, every rune-stitched crest, stored neatly into a piece of jewelry no bigger than a whisper.
Because the ring wasn't just a disguise.
It was a vault. A sanctuary.
But even that wasn't its limit.
Parker watched her with a faint twitch of his jaw. She looked so casual doing it, so at ease. But he knew better.
These rings... these were not ordinary. It had taken him hundreds of years to forge them. Every time Maya slept during her pregnancy for hundreds of years, Parker had slipped away—not to rest, not to breathe, but to create.
He had poured centuries of arcane knowledge, divine materials, and runes written in the Language of Origin into these artifacts. They weren't just protection. They were anchors. Dimensional foci. Armories. Last lines of reality.
And he only prayed she wouldn't ever discover everything they could do. Not yet.
"Hopefully she doesn't..."
Nyxavere's voice cut softly through the quiet. "Where's Aunt Chione now, Daddy?" Parker froze.
His breath caught mid-sentence before it could even form. His body didn't react—he had long mastered stillness—but inside, he cursed. Loudly. Relentlessly.
"Why the hell did I jinx it?'
She looked up at him, small and warm and trusting. Her eyes sparkled with a child's innocence, but beneath that—beneath the tiny sniffle and slightly puffed cheeks—was a mind sharper than most immortals. If he told her the wrong thing... if he slipped...
Luckily, Parker wasn't the kind of father to leave loose ends dangling. He always had a plan tucked beneath another plan… and this time, he had just the name to soften the sharp edges of her question.
"I told you you'd meet her. For now there's someone I want you to meet," he said calmly, brushing a strand of her star-dark hair away from her cheek. "Aunt Tessa."
Nyxavere's ears perked instantly. Her eyes lit up, gleaming with that chaotic sparkle only a nine-year-old with curiosity and chaos in her soul could pull off.
"Aunt Tessa?" she gasped, practically bouncing in his arms. "Is she pretty? Is she nice? Does she like candy? Aunt Chione is all that..."
Parker chuckled, nodding. "Very. Yes. And unfortunately for me—probably just as spoiled as you."
She giggled, squirming in his hold like she was already running toward this mysterious new aunt. "I wanna meet her now! Now now now now—"
He raised a brow and calmly pointed to her body. "Maybe… change first?"
Without hesitation or shame, she flicked her wrist.
Her clothes disappeared in a heartbeat—gone like they'd never existed. She stood stark naked in the middle of the divine-like chamber, arms folded was normal, like modesty was a mortal thing.
Parker sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. "You really haven't changed some things, huh…"
"Daddy, you said I had to change," she replied with full innocence, clearly weaponizing her cuteness. She waved again with flair.
A soft shimmer curled around her—light folding inward, magic rethreading—and then whoosh. She was suddenly draped in a flowing white princess dress, regal and laced with subtle runes glowing at the edges. The fabric sparkled like star-dust and was stitched to move with her every bounce. And right on her head sat a small, silver tiara, glimmering softly like it had been kissed by moonlight.
She twirled once, giggling proudly. "Ta-da! I'm ready!"
Parker stepped back, watching her with a quiet smile. In that moment, she didn't just look like his daughter—she radiated it. The posture, the magic, the audacity.
She didn't resemble royalty.
She resembled a myth reborn.
A force wrapped in lace and laughter.
The real daughter of the Prince of Existence.
He reached out and straightened the tiara slightly, his hand brushing her temple. "You know you're gonna turn the whole world upside down, right?"
She grinned. "Only a little bit."
He smirked. "Just like your dad."