The monk stood there, his face a mask of serene detachment. He offered me a gentle, yet unsettling smile. His gaze shifted to the child in my arms, and his words cut through the fragile hope I clung to. "You cannot protect him. You cannot protect her. Don't try. You're going to lose her too."
"As soon as the monk uttered those chilling words, a sudden gust of wind whipped through the air, so fierce that it knocked him back two or three steps, sending him stumbling to the ground. Yet, despite the force that had sent him reeling, his eyes never left Jiho in my arms. His gaze was piercing, unwavering, and filled with a strange intensity that made my heart pound.
But the most unsettling thing wasn't the monk—it was the way Jiho stared back at him, her infant eyes wide and unblinking, as if she recognized him. It was terrifying, and a surge of protectiveness gripped me. My heart raced with panic. How could this be? What was happening?
