The reporter kept walking, kept filming, showing the world what terrorism looked like, what targeting civilians ant in visceral, undeniable reality.
Then she saw sothing that made her stop completely.
A body...
A woman’s body, positioned protectively over sothing smaller, her arms wrapped around it in a death grip that hadn’t released even after life had fled.
And beneath her, barely visible, was a small child.
The reporter rushed forward, her professional detachnt shattering completely as maternal instinct took over.
"Oh god. Oh god there’s a child–"
She tried to move the body, her hands shaking so badly she could barely grip properly.
The dead woman’s arms were locked tight, final determination keeping them wrapped around the child she’d died protecting.
"Please... Please let go... I need to... the child needs... please–"
Rebecca pulled harder, tears streaming down her face, her professional composure completely gone as she worked to free this child from her mother’s final embrace.
Finally, the arms gave way.
Rebecca lifted the little girl carefully, checking for injuries, her hands trembling as she looked for wounds.
Physically, the child seed mostly unhard – so cuts and bruises, covered in blood and dust, but alive.
"Are you okay? Sweetie, are you hurt? Can you hear ?"
Her voice was gentle despite the chaos around them, the kind of tone adults automatically use with injured children.
"We’re going to get you help. We’re going to find a healer. You’re going to be okay!"
The little girl’s blank eyes moved slightly, not focusing on Rebecca but on the space around her, looking at things that weren’t there.
When she spoke, her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, the words broken in the way of very young children just learning to form sentences.
"M-Mummy... no hear good... no see where light... where you?"
The reporter’s breath caught.
Understanding crashed over her with horrifying clarity.
The child’s eyes weren’t focusing because they couldn’t focus.
The explosion... the shockwave... the pressure...
She was blind!
And possibly deaf, given how she’d said "no hear good."
The reporter’s professional composure shattered completely.
Sob Sob
She pulled the child into her arms, hugging her tightly, her body shaking with sobs she couldn’t control anymore.
Her eyes moved to the body slumped against the wall – the mother who had used her final monts to shield her daughter, who had given everything to try to save this one small life...
The woman’s face was partially burned, but her expression showed no fear or pain...
Just determination!
And love!
Just the kind of fierce protective instinct that defined motherhood across every species and culture.
The cara panned across the scene slowly, capturing everything – the crying reporter holding a blinded child, the mother’s body lying nearby, the devastation spreading in all directions, the rows of covered bodies growing longer, the rescue workers moving through hell trying to save whoever could still be saved.
Millions of people across the Federation watched in complete silence.
Fires still burning in collapsed sections.
Survivors wandering in shock, their minds unable to process what they were experiencing.
This wasn’t a tournant anymore.
This was a massacre.
This was hell made manifest in the middle of humanity’s greatest city.
****
[Viewing Locations Across the Federation - Simultaneous Reactions]
In living rooms, bars, public squares, and various places across all five regions, people stood staring at screens showing the sa horrific images.
Parents pulled their children close, suddenly terrified that this could happen anywhere, that no place was truly safe.
Elderly survivors of the original portal invasions felt old wounds reopening, mories of similar devastation flooding back from decades ago!
Young people who’d grown up in relative peace, who’d never known real war, suddenly understood what their grandparents had survived!
The forums exploded with activity.
@ParentInFear: "My daughter was supposed to attend next year’s tournant. I’m pulling her from the Academy. I don’t care about her future prospects. I just want her alive."
@Survivor1stWave: "This is what it was like in the beginning. This is what we fought to prevent. And it’s happening again. We failed them."
@CommonerVoice: "Nobles, commoners – none of it matters when we’re all dying together. We need to unite or we’ll all perish."
@NobleHeritage: "My cousin was in those stands. Just found out he’s dead... Died instantly. He was only twenty-three. Had his whole life ahead of him."
@YoungFather: "I was holding my son watching this. Started crying when I saw that little girl. Made realize how fragile everything is. How fast it can all end."
*****
[Cross Estate - Southern Region - Victor’s Father]
Arthur Cross stood in his office watching multiple screens simultaneously, each showing different coverage of the disaster, his face carved from stone as he processed information.
He was the head of one of the thirteen Imperial Families, controlled vast territories in the Southern Region, commanded resources that could reshape economies.
And at this mont, all of that power ant absolutely nothing.
His son was gone!
Victor – arrogant, proud, deeply flawed but still his son – had been standing close to the explosion area!
Arthur grabbed his communication device, his composure cracking for the first ti in decades.
"MOBILIZE EVERY RESOURCE WE HAVE! I WANT RESCUE TEAMS ASSEMBLED IMDIATELY!"
His voice broke slightly.
"I WANT MY SON FOUND! COST IS IRRELEVANT! JUST FIND MY BOY!"
He ended the call and stood there breathing heavily, his carefully maintained political mask completely shattered.
"My son," he whispered to the empty office, his voice carrying a father’s pain that transcended rank and status. "My boy."
Then he activated his own Aura, the distinctive earth-principle power of House Cross making the entire building shake.
He would go to the Capitol himself.
Because he might be the head of the Cross Imperial Family...
But he was a father first!
****
[Valcor Family Estate - Main Residence]
Luna had been watching with her parents, her eyes seeing more than the caras showed, her empathic abilities picking up the emotional weight of thousands of people dying simultaneously.
When the portal opened, when Damian fell through, she saw it.
"Not again."
Her voice ca out barely above a whisper, her breathing becoming shallow and rapid.
"Not again not again not again–"
Her chest tightened, lungs refusing to draw air properly, her empathic skill amplifying her own emotions into a feedback loop that threatened to drown her.
She’d almost lost him before – to the portal months ago.
And now–
Her vision went dark at the edges, consciousness fading as her body shut down from the overwhelming emotional and physical trauma.
"Luna!"
Lyandra caught her daughter before she hit the floor.
"Alaric! Sothing’s wrong! Her breathing... she’s not–"
Alaric’s awareness had already assessed the situation, his face showing rare genuine fear.
"I’m getting Sebastian!"
He vanished, space folding around him, teleporting across the city toward the only healer they trusted with their daughter’s life.
Lyandra held Luna close, her usually controlled expression cracking as she looked at her daughter’s pale face, at the tears streaming down even while unconscious, at the way her body trembled despite being completely limp.
"It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Damy is strong. He’s survived worse. He’ll co back. He always cos back."
The words were as much for herself as for Luna.
Because Damian was their son.
And if sothing happened to him...
The Twin Terrors would burn the world to find him.
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