CHAPTER 487: CHAPTER 487: THE CHILD MUST SURVIVE

Osiris didn’t even have time to scream properly.

One second he was stumbling into the mist like a panicked toddler, and the next—

WHOOSH—

the Lunareen yanked him into the air with enough force to snap his soul loose from his spine.

His legs dangled.

His arms flailed.

His mouth opened, but no sound came out because the invisible coils around his throat were squeezing just enough to silence him.

His eyes?

Wide.

Bloodshot.

Full of "oh gods Isabella please save me."

The lagoon below exploded with movement.

Serpentine tails sliced through the glowing water, creating ripples of blue light. Scales shimmered like moving constellations. Dozens of Lunareen heads rose out of the depths—hair floating, fangs bared, eyes glowing like underwater lanterns designed specifically to cause heart attacks.

The High Seraph surged forward, her massive tail curling protectively around the others. Power vibrated off her body like underwater thunder.

"WHAT IS THAT THING?" she hissed.

"That—" Isabella pointed awkwardly upward, "—is Osiris."

The Macho Sister’s upper lip curled, nostrils flaring. "He reeks of fire. And arrogance. And male."

The other Lunareen murmured in agreement, their voices blending like a haunting choir.

"He’s loud."

"He’s tall."

"He looks crunchy."

"I want his leg."

"No, I want his arms."

"Ladies," Isabella said sharply, trying to hold onto a drop of dignity. "Let’s please not divide him like we’re planning a family meal."

Osiris choked out a sound that resembled a dying bird.

She sighed.

She didn’t want to care.

She REALLY didn’t.

He had called her small.

He had maybe-kind-of-almost called her a man.

He had barged in when she told him to stay out.

And yet—

She looked up at him being strangled mid-air by glowing water magic like a decorative phoenix-shaped chandelier.

Ugh.

Fine.

She cared a little.

"He’s harmless," Isabella tried.

The High Seraph snarled instantly, "HE IS A MAN." (Fair point)

Osiris made another strangled noise. Isabella cleared her throat louder.

"He’s not a threat," she insisted.

"Men always say that before we remove their heads," one of the younger Lunareen hummed sweetly, flicking her tail.

"He didn’t say anything," Isabella snapped. "He can’t talk. You’re choking him."

The Macho Sister tilted her head thoughtfully. "That is true."

"So release him?" Isabella offered.

"No," three of them answered at once.

Isabella smacked her forehead.

Great. Perfect. Amazing. Exactly the chaos she needed today.

"Let me explain—" she began.

The High Seraph hissed, loud enough that the lagoon vibrated.

"WHY," she demanded, "SHOULD WE SPARE THE MAN?"

Osiris gagged dramatically in the background.

Isabella ignored him. "Because—"

"Yes?" the Macho Sister pressed.

"Because he’s..." Her eyes drifted upward again. His legs were kicking slowly. He looked pathetic.

"...stupid," she finished honestly.

The Lunareen paused.

The water stilled.

Even Osiris stopped kicking.

One of the younger Lunareen whispered, "...stupid is not a good reason to spare a meal."

"Yeah," another agreed. "We eat stupid men. They taste sweet. Like regret."

Isabella clamped her hands together. "Okay, listen—he didn’t mean to come inside."

"He did," the High Seraph snapped.

"He literally said he was afraid of the outside," Isabella argued, pointing behind her. "He was crying."

"I was NOT crying!" Osiris squeaked from above, voice strained.

Everyone ignored him.

"So," Isabella continued, "you can’t blame him for having no brain cells. That’s genetics, not intention."

The Macho Sister blinked slowly. "We do not accept genetic weakness."

Isabella inhaled sharply—slowly—deeply—because she swore if she shouted, she’d explode into divine fire.

"Listen," she tried again, rubbing her temple, "he’s a phoenix—"

"A WHAT?"

"A phoenix?"

"Those exist?"

"I thought they were myths."

"They taste good, right?"

Isabella flapped her hands. "NO. Nobody is tasting him!"

Osiris made a little wheezing noise of gratitude.

"He is not prey," Isabella insisted. "He is just... um... tall."

"Tall is not a personality trait," the High Seraph said coldly.

Isabella closed her eyes. "Tell me about it."

"WHY," the High Seraph boomed again, "SHOULD WE SPARE HIM?"

"I’m getting there!" Isabella snapped.

She paced a little, muttering under her breath.

"Why the hell am I doing this," she whispered. "He’s an idiot. He should’ve stayed outside. He should’ve listened. Why am I fighting for a man who insulted me? Why don’t I just let them turn him into phoenix soup?"

Glimora squeaked softly from her arms, patting Isabella’s chest with her tiny paws as if saying, mother, please be kind.

Isabella sighed. "Because I’m not cruel, baby. I’m pissed, not emotionless."

She turned back toward the Lunareen, ready to start negotiating again—

But the High Seraph was already circling Osiris like a shark, teeth bared.

"We sense a strange aura around him," she growled. "Fire. Storm. Memory. Rebirth. Death."

"Oh great," Isabella muttered. "Yes, he’s dramatic. Can you let him down now?"

"No."

"WHY?"

"BECAUSE YOU HAVE GIVEN US NO REASON."

Isabella threw her hands in the air. "WHAT KIND OF REASON DO YOU WANT?!"

The Lunareen all leaned closer, waiting.

Isabella stared back, brain completely blank.

She had absolutely nothing.

He wasn’t helpful.

He wasn’t polite.

He was tall but useless.

He couldn’t fight.

He couldn’t think.

He couldn’t follow a simple instruction like "stay outside so you don’t become dinner."

And she didn’t know why she cared—

but she did.

The High Seraph loomed near her face, eyes glowing like twin moons. "Speak, human mother. Why should he live?"

Isabella opened her mouth—

And nothing came out.

"I..." she tried. "I—um—well—"

The Macho Sister leaned in. "Why should we spare him?"

Isabella swallowed. "Because he—he’s—he—"

She had NOTHING.

Literally nothing.

Her brain was a barren wasteland.

"Oh gods," she whispered. "Please don’t make me think right now—"

One of the younger Lunareen suddenly perked up.

Her tail flicked excitedly.

Her eyes widened.

Then—

She gasped.

"OH!" she cried out. "He’s the father of the child!"

Isabella froze.

Osiris froze.

The entire lagoon froze.

"...WHAT?" Isabella squeaked.

Another Lunareen lifted herself out of the water, nodding earnestly. "It makes sense."

"IT MAKES WHAT SENSE?!" Isabella yelped.

"If he is the father of the child," the young Lunareen continued, eyes glowing bright with maternal instinct, "then the child needs him to survive."

Another nodded gravely. "The child must survive."

Another echoed, "The child must survive."

A chorus rose up:

"THE CHILD MUST SURVIVE."

Isabella gaped at them, eyes bugging out, brain malfunctioning.

"What—WHAT CHILD—WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT—WHOSE CHILD—STOP SAYING CHILD—"

The High Seraph narrowed her eyes with ancient, terrifying seriousness.

"Human mother," she said slowly, "does your baby require the father?"

Isabella’s jaw dropped open so wide Glimora could’ve crawled inside.