The luxury treehouse swayed gently in the night wind, high above the ancient forest. Rain tapped softly against the massive glass walls that looked out over miles of dark, dripping pines. Inside, the only light came from a few warm lanterns and the soft blue glow of the bassinet. Paul stood with his arms wrapped around Carrie from behind, both of them staring down at their newborn daughter. Luna was so small. So impossibly small. Her tiny chest rose and fell in perfect rhythm beneath the soft white blanket, one little fist curled near her cheek. Carrie’s voice was barely a whisper.

She looks so… normal. Just a baby. Paul pressed a slow kiss to the side of her neck, but his eyes never left their daughter. She’s not just a baby anymore, he murmured, voice low and heavy. Not after what they told us.

Outside, lightning flickered in the distance, briefly lighting up the endless sea of trees. The wind picked up, making the entire treehouse creak like it was breathing. Carrie reached down and gently brushed a finger across Luna’s cheek. Her hand was shaking. She’s our daughter, she whispered, almost like she was trying to convince herself. She’s supposed to save the world… and she can’t even hold her own head up yet. Paul tightened his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder as they both watched their sleeping baby. The savior of the world was currently drooling on a burp cloth.