The mist curled around Isabella like a curtain dropping behind her—and she was DONE with Osiris.
Absolutely finished.
"You called a man," she hissed, still glaring at him like he had personally kicked her ancestral grandmother in the teeth.
"I didn’t—"
"And BEFORE that," she jabbed a finger at his chest, "you called SMALL—"
"That is not—"
"And NOW you’re implying I look like a MAN?!"
She slapped her palm to her forehead so hard it echoed, head tilting back like she was appealing to invisible gods to grant her patience before she committed a cri. Her elbow popped outward dramatically, her whole body twisting like she was in a telenovela audition. "Oh my gods, Osiris, KEEP DIGGING. PLEASE. MAKE THE GRAVE WIDER. Throw yourself in. Roll around. Decorate it."
Osiris opened his mouth—
She whirled on him with lightning speed, raising a single finger with the sharp authority of a kindergarten teacher catching a child about to eat glue.
He shut his mouth so fast his teeth clicked.
"That’s what I thought," she muttered, flipping her hair with an insultingly elegant wrist flick. "Tall, pretty, absolutely useless man." She waved her hand at him up and down like she was presenting a malfunctioning appliance. "I swear you’re the decorative statue version of a phoenix. Just standing there looking aesthetically pleasing and contributing NOTHING."
Osiris just stood there with the emotional range of a kicked puppy—confused, offended, and sohow... guilty. His brows pulled together, his lips parted like he wanted to argue but also like arguing would get him stabbed.
Isabella sighed dramatically—full chest rise, shoulders dropping like she carried the burden of every man’s stupidity since the dawn of creation. She brushed a hand through her hair with a flair so exaggerated Glimora actually blinked like who are we performing for??
"Anyway," she said, planting one hand on her hip, "I already warned you. You co in there?"
She pointed at the mist with her whole arm, stabbing the air like she was accusing the fog of murder.
"You die."
Then she spun on her heel with the grace of a furious ballerina and walked straight into the fog, chin high, hair swishing behind her like a VIP cape. Glimora was tucked under her arm like an emotionally exhausted baby who had seen too much drama for her age.
Isabella didn’t look back.
She entered the mist like she owned it.
Like she had a mbership card.
Like she was clocking into her shift at Hell’s HR departnt.
Osiris blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Three tis.
Then he yelled after her, voice breaking like a teenage boy discovering heartbreak for the first ti:
"ARE YOU SERIOUS?! I SHOULDN’T CO IN?! BUT I DON’T WANT TO STAY OUT HERE! WHAT IF SOTHING FINDS ?!"
The forest actually echoed him back.
Even the wind sounded embarrassed.
And this was hilarious because Osiris—the arrogant, cocky, self-assured "I am a majestic phoenix with a tragic past" man—now sounded like a terrified toddler lost in a supermarket.
He paced nervously at the border of the mist, arms flailing a little. "ISABELLA! DON’T LEAVE OUT HERE! ISABELLA! HELLO?!"
The trees shook their leaves like, dude, she’s not listening to you.
He whimpered.
A grown man. Whimpered.
But cut him off.
Because inside the mist?
The mont Isabella crossed the boundary, everything changed.
She didn’t even take a second step.
Not one.
Because suddenly—
SHE WAS NO LONGER ON THE GROUND.
Her feet left the earth, her breath caught, and she shot upward into the cold misty air like soone had hit an invisible elevator button.
"W—WAIT—WHAT—" she yelped, instinctively clutching Glimora to her chest. "BABY, HOLD ON, MOTHER IS GOING UP FOR NO REASON—"
Glimora squeaked, her tiny paws grabbing Isabella’s top in survival mode.
The mist around her shifted, parted, and in a flash she saw it:
A face.
A beautiful, terrifying, glowing face.
One of the Lunareen.
This one was tall—VERY tall—her serpentine lower half swirling through the shallow lagoon beneath the mist like a luminous underwater ribbon. Her eyes glowed a soft moonlit blue, scales shimring with shifting colors. She held Isabella suspended with nothing but a curl of magic and authority.
Isabella gasped. "It’s ! It’s —IT’S !"
The Lunareen froze.
The air changed instantly.
The swirling mist softened into silver light.
Her body lowered gently, like she was being placed on a bed made of wind.
When her feet touched the ground, she recognized the Lunareen who held her.
One of the elder Lunareen Sister.
The strongest one.
"Human mother," the Lunareen sister said, voice deep and rippling like underwater thunder. "We thought you were a man."
Imdiately—
Heads.
Heads everywhere.
Dozens of glowing, beautiful, serpentine faces surfaced through the lagoon, their tails flicking through the water in coils of luminous blues and greens.
"Oh! It’s you!" one chirped happily, doing a little spin in the water.
"We felt the presence of a man!" another hissed.
"And we do NOT tolerate n," said a third, curling its tail protectively through the water.
Then the surface of the water rippled—
The elder rose.
The High Seraph herself.
Her tail was longer, thicker, and glowing brighter than the rest. Her eyes were terrifying—sharp, ancient, and cold.
And she was already snarling.
"I still feel him around," she hissed, voice vibrating the mist. "A man. Disgusting. Unwanted. Poison."
"You’re so dramatic," Isabella whispered under her breath.
But she chuckled nervously and held up her hands, palms out. "Ah—yes, um—so... a man is here with . BUT he isn’t inside. I told him not to co in."
So of the Lunareen hissed disapprovingly.
One curled her tail around another. "We do not accept n in our habitat."
"It is forbidden," another nodded.
A third narrowed her glowing eyes. "True. However—if the baby requires it—perhaps it may be allowed."
"Is he the father of the child?" one asked innocently.
Isabella’s entire soul left her body.
Her eyes went wide.
Her mouth dropped open.
"I—BABY?—WHAT—NO—WAIT—"
But before she could laugh it off—
Before she could correct ANYTHING—
Before she could deny, lie, run, or breathe—
A voice scread through the mist:
"I CAN’T STAY OUT THERE ALONE!"
Oh no.
Oh NO.
And then—
Osiris barged inside.
His tall, wingless, clueless body stumbling through the fog like a panicked deer.
His hair damp with fear.
His hands trembling.
His pride DEAD.
"I CAN’T—ISABELLA—IT’S DARK—I HEARD SOTHING MOVE—AND—"
He did NOT finish.
Because the mont he stepped inside—
He shot upward into the air like a ragdoll.
The Lunareen SCREAD.
A dozen hypnotic voices rose, overlapping, furious, divine.
At least six tails burst from the water, coiling upward like bioluminescent pythons ready to snap him in half.
The air went violent.
The water churned.
Osiris dangled in mid-air, eyes wide, face pale, arms and legs twitching helplessly.
The Lunareen looked like they were about to rip him apart.
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