Rose stirred, blinking awake as sunlight spilled across the living room. She had dozed curled up beside Elena on the couch, the quiet afternoon punctuated by distant street sounds.
Something felt…off.
Tension prickled in the air, and her system pinged softly: [threat approaching].
She pushed herself upright, small fingers brushing along the couch, and pressed a hand against her sister's arm.
Movement near the front door caught her eye, through the sidelights she could see John Gilbert. His posture sharp, his gaze assessing.
Rose's magic, subtle but ever-present even at her one-year-old size, hummed faintly beneath her skin. She didn't need to move; she just watched. His intent carried through the air, and her precognition ticked over it like a warning light.
Before John could reach the door, Grayson appeared, he opened the door but blocked his path. The sudden firmness in his stance made her system take note.
"John! I don't care what you think you're entitled to—stay away from the house! She is not to be studied, no matter what she is!" Grayson's voice was low, steady, unwavering.
John's lips moved, muttering, arguing. Rose couldn't make out the words, but she felt the edge behind them—anger, insistence, calculation.
Miranda stepped up beside Grayson.
Her presence, careful and protective, reinforced the human barrier. Rose leaned against the back of the couch, observing with the precision of someone far older than her tiny body suggested.
Her magic, barely perceptible, flared slightly—just enough to nudge John's perception. Subtle hints of unease, tiny waves of tension, the faintest instinct to pause and reconsider.
John hesitated. His hand twitched toward the door, then stopped. He took a step back, muttering something under his breath, frustration clear even from this distance. Grayson's hand pressed firmly against the door before it closed with a click.
Rose's hazel eyes narrowed in satisfaction.
[Boundary reinforced. Threat contained.]
She leaned closer to Elena, brushing her tiny fingers along her sister's arm.
Even in a house with no magic of its own, her influence stretched outward. Grayson and Miranda's authority set the rules, but she, Rose, ensured they were obeyed.
John would try again, she knew that. But for now, he had been warned.
Rose's fingers tightened slightly around Elena's hand. 'I will not let him near us.'
And for the moment, the living room was calm again, filled only with the quiet, steady rhythm of her twin sister's breathing—and the faint, imperceptible hum of Rose's magic beneath her skin.