Chapter 372 – Anchor
Lux didn’t respond, but yeah—that glint was there. Rage. Cold and calculating. Rage born not from emotion, but from insult. From inefficiency. From being underestimated.
Sira leaned closer, the glow of her eyes catching the low lights of the room. "They used to look down on you," she murmured. "I rember."
Lux smirked. "And now they co to like trained puppies. Tails wagging, tongues out, waiting for a credit injection."
Sira laughed. It was a velvet sound, deep and indulgent. "Oh, I rember that one warlord who spat on your shoes at the summit. Ca crawling three years later begging for an investnt to expand his mana refinery."
"And I made him pay for what he had done," Lux said dryly.
"Humiliation," Sira whispered. "Delicious."
But his expression turned more serious as he glanced back at the sleeping girl on the bed.
Ariel. Small. Fragile. Broken in places that should never have been touched by cruelty.
"But first," he said, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful. "She needs her real family. Her real status. Everything they denied her. And..."
He turned to Lullaby. She stood beside the bed, fingers laced in front of her like a worried petal.
"Do you have a way," he asked gently, "to make her believe in herself? To give her confidence. But without erasing what they did. Without forgetting the pain."
Lullaby blinked.
Then blinked again.
She wasn’t used to being asked for things like that.
Her power was dreamscape navigation. Emotion weaving. A little mory balm, a little lullaby whisper to guide soone down a softer path.
Not therapy.
Not healing.
But Lux didn’t ask lightly.
And that mattered.
"I... I can try," she said, voice small. "But that’s not what dreams are for."
She glanced down at Ariel’s sleeping face, then whispered like she was cradling a secret.
"Dreams... they’re not ant to fix the past. Just soften it. Like snow falling over ruins—covering the cracks, not erasing them. They let the heart breathe when the world forgets how."
Her fingers hovered just above Ariel’s forehead, barely touching.
"I can’t promise to heal her. But maybe... I can give her a dream where she clings to a hope. For a better life."
Sira raised a brow. "Poetic."
Lullaby flushed. "I read."
Lux nodded. "That’s exactly why I asked you."
He moved to sit on the edge of Ariel’s bed again, this ti careful not to jostle her.
His hand brushed her hair back gently.
Like she was made of sothing valuable. Not breakable—valuable.
"Don’t make her forget," he said. "Make her strong enough to rember without falling apart."
Lullaby nodded slowly. "I’ll need a few things. Dreams are weird, slippery places. They follow emotions. If I want her to rebuild from the inside, I need an anchor."
"What kind of anchor?" Sira asked, tilting her head as if she already had a snark locked and loaded.
Lullaby tapped her lips thoughtfully, fingers glowing faintly as a hush of dreamdust danced around her. "A place she felt safe. A voice that makes her feel seen. A sll that tells her she’s not alone."
Lux muttered, "Sounds like a candle ad."
Lullaby ignored him, hand already hovering near Ariel’s temple again. Her touch was so light it barely stirred the air, but the shimr in her irises deepened like moonlight slipping beneath waves.
"Okay..." Lux folded his arms. "I don’t know what it is. Any ideas?"
"I could check," Lullaby said softly, her voice almost a lull itself. "A dream always leaves crumbs. Even broken ones."
Her hand glowed again. The glow crawled from her palm, a whisper of dreamlight slithering down her fingers and resting just above Ariel’s chest.
Then Lullaby whispered like she was speaking to a sleeping soul.
"Tell ... soone or sothing that could anchor you," she breathed. "The one that keeps you from breaking apart. The one who gives you hope."
Ariel twitched.
The room grew still. Even Sira went quiet.
Then the air shimred—like soone had dropped a stone into the fabric of space.
And it ca.
First, a silhouette. Blurred, wavy, unstable.
A man.
Sira squinted. "Oh. This’ll be good."
The dream-thread pulsed.
The image sharpened.
Hair.
Shoulders.
Eyes.
A voice.
Lux.
Standing exactly where he had been earlier in the day, in the pool, saying—calmly, casually, carelessly—"You are under my protection now."
Lux stared. "You’ve gotta be kidding ."
Sira let out a sharp bark of laughter and clapped slowly. "Three hours in and you’ve already made yourself her emotional life raft."
Lullaby tilted her head. "You said that to her?"
"I was just... handling it. Like I always do."
"But it mattered," Lullaby said simply. "To her. It’s the first thing her mind reached for when asked about safety."
Lux groaned and rubbed his temple. "I t her three hours ago. Three. Hours. Ago."
"And she doesn’t have anyone else," Lullaby said gently. "That’s what that ans. No one else gives her hope. No one else protects her."
Sira leaned against the wall with a smug grin. "Oh, for the abyss. The CFO of Greed just adopted a trauma survivor."
"I am not adopting anyone," Lux cringed and paused. "Okay, I’m kinda adopting her now. But I just wanted to get her out of the trauma pit and maybe fix her a little. I didn’t sign up to be her—" he paused. "...anchor."
Lullaby smiled. "You already are."
"Ugh," he muttered. "Fine. Use . But no jealousy. No drama. And nobody’s calling Daddy Hope. I’m a demon, and I prefer to stay in the brand."
Sira chuckled. "What about ’Captain Emotional Stability’?"
"I will ban you from my bedroom."
"You can try."
"Please," Lullaby sighed, though her eyes still glowed with a warm, eerie pride. "This is serious."
She turned back to Ariel and placed her hand again near the heart space. Her dream-magic shifted subtly, becoming deeper. More... personal.
"I just need to strengthen it," she whispered, "so it doesn’t shatter."
"Wait," Lux said. "Strengthen how?"
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