Page 43 of Destined For Her Alien Daddy

Children studying ruins left behind by beings so ancient they treated cosmic genesis like unfinished workshop mathematics.

My chest constricts violently.

“No,” I whisper.

The vision shifts.

One of the entities notices me.

Its attention passes across my consciousness gently, almost absentmindedly, but the scale behind it is incomprehensible. Every memory, fear, shame, and private thought peels open effortlessly beneath observation.

And underneath that impossible awareness⁠—

Curiosity.

The entity is curious about me.

About us.

About tiny accidental creatures somehow becoming meaningful despite originating from discarded experimentation.

Emotion crashes through the vision unexpectedly.

Not mockery.

Wonder.

A vast ancient intelligence realizing the accident mattered anyway.

Then the archive destabilizes violently.

The chamber slams back into existence around me.

I hit the floor hard enough to bruise my shoulder. The black structure emits a harmonic scream that vibrates through the stone while silver fractures race across the surrounding walls. Gravity pulses unpredictably hard enough to wrench debris sideways through the air.

Someone shouts my name.

Ghar.

The chamber begins collapsing around us.

I cannot move.

The vision still burns behind my eyes. Experimental universes. Recursive creation. Casual gods. The unbearable realization that meaning somehow survived anyway.

Hands grab me.

Ghar hauls me violently against his chest just as part of the ceiling caves inward behind us. The impact shakes the chamber hard enough to crack my teeth together while dust explodes through the air.

The black structure pulses once more beneath the rubble, silver lines blazing like exposed nerves beneath dark skin.

Then the chamber truly starts coming apart.

“Move!” Brakk roars somewhere through the dust.

Ghar lifts me fully off the ground.

“I can walk,” I try to say.