Alexander was alive.

  Whole.

  No blood. No trace of a blow.

  He was wearing a gray sweater and plaid lounge pants. His gaze was focused. Sharp. The kind of look you give not to the wounded, but to a situation that must be brought under control immediately.

  Wanda stepped slightly aside.

  “She’s awake,” she said calmly. “The pollen worked, but weaker than expected.”

  Alexander looked at me.

  For a long time. Carefully. As if he were checking not only my eyes, but everything behind them.

  “Of course,” he said quietly. “She’s stubborn.”

  He stepped closer.

  “Molly,” he said more gently. “Can you hear me?”

  I looked at him and felt a slow wave rising inside me, tightening something in my chest.

  “You…” My voice came out hoarse.

  He exhaled—this time in relief.

  “So your memory is returning,” he said, casting a quick glance at Wanda. “Thank you, Wanda. Please leave us.”

  She withdrew silently.

  He looked at me again.

  “I’m sorry I frightened you,” Alexander said. “I didn’t manage to restore your memory in time, and you… Oh, Molly. Your Shi-Moo was terrified. He cried for two days. We could barely calm him.”

  Pause.

  Something clenched hard inside me.

  Shi-Moo? Was he talking about Pi-Pu? God. Where is he now?

  Aloud, I said:

  “I’m sorry. I was scared. I didn’t remember anything, I didn’t understand… You killed… and I… I’m glad you’re alive. Where is Pi-Pu?”

  Something rustled softly in the depths of the hall.

  Alexander smiled before I could think.

  That same smile—warm, familiar—the one that makes something inside you loosen at once.

  “He’s here,” he said calmly. “And very angry with you. And with me. And, in general… with the entire Universe.”

  The rustling came again—closer this time.

  From behind a thick vine hanging almost to the floor, familiar black fur appeared. Then two yellow eyes—full of reproach, anxiety, and dramatic offense.

  Pi-Pu.

  He looked smaller than I remembered. More compact. More gathered into himself. But the hat—that same knitted, oversized one—was still on him.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  He stopped. Looked at me.

  For a long time.

  Very long.

  Then he made a thin, trembling sound—something between a sigh and a reproach.

  “Pi-pu…” I whispered.

  He snorted.

  Came closer.

  Closer still.

  And suddenly he jumped onto my chest all at once, his whole warm, fluffy body landing against me. He buried his snout beneath my chin and froze.

  I gasped.

  “Hey…” I whispered, feeling my eyes burn. “I’m sorry. Please…”

  He gave a quiet sob. A real one. Childlike. And pressed himself closer.

  “He thought he’d lost you,” Alexander said softly. “And when you struck me… he decided it was his fault. That he hadn’t protected you.”

  I closed my eyes.

  Tears ran on their own. Simply because I had no strength left to hold them back.

  “I didn’t understand anything,” I said. “I thought you… you had killed…”

  Alexander sat on the edge of a chair, resting his elbows on his knees.

  He looked at me carefully.

  “Do you remember what I told you before? About the war. About the Gruns.”

  I closed my eyes.

  Fragments rose inside me—not images, but sensations. Pressure. Cold. Ringing. A foreign hatred, dense like a substance.

  “Vaguely,” I said honestly. “But I remember.”

  He nodded.

  “Good.”

  He straightened, and in that movement something other than human showed through—older, stricter, more contained.

  “That wasn’t a grandmother, Molly.

  It was a Grun. Cruel. Ancient. Very experienced.”

  Everything inside me tightened.

  “I told you they breached the Dome,” he continued. “After that, infiltration attempts began. Careful. Testing. Then bolder.”

  He glanced aside, as if seeing a map laid over the air.

  “They know Phil carries a Lactimol within him. They know where he is. And they know you’re near.”

  “Why… me?” I asked dully.

  Alexander turned his gaze back to me.

  “Because you’re connected. Because you were present at the moment of pollination. And because you see more than you should.”

  He added quietly:

  “And that makes you dangerous to them.”

  He paused, letting the words settle.

  “The Grun tried to kill you when I wasn’t there,” he said plainly. “That wasn’t reconnaissance. It was an elimination attempt.”

  I shuddered.

  “But… that little rogue Shi-Moo named Pi-Pu—the one you already know well—saved you that night.”

  I looked down, where Pi-Pu was pretending to be an entirely innocent creature and acting as if none of this concerned him.

  “More than that,” Alexander continued, and for the first time there was genuine surprise in his voice, “he isn’t even a fully matured Shi-Moo… and yet somehow he destroyed a Grun.”

  I snapped my head up.

  “Destroyed?”

  “Yes,” he confirmed. “Not completely. But he forced it out of form. What you saw…”

  He chose his words carefully.

  “That was a compelled collapse of its shell.”

  He looked at me intently.

  “That isn’t something a hatchling can do. Even a gifted one.”

  Suddenly I saw her again—the woman in white. The white fur coat. The fluffy hat. The waiting.

  “I…” I whispered. “I remember. That woman… in white.”

  “That was the Grun,” Alexander nodded. “A mask. A lure. They prefer forms that evoke trust or pity.”

  I swallowed.

  “And… Frau Schwarznegger?” I asked.

  He gave a faint, humorless smile.

  “You know her,” he said. “Just not from that side.”

  Pause.

  “Ida is a Serus. Like me.”

  I stared at him.

  “She was sent from Germany,” he continued. “She’s not just a cleaner, Molly. She’s a powerful Serus. A warrior. Very experienced.”

  “And Wanda?” I asked quietly.

  Alexander glanced toward the green vines.

  “Wanda is a Pteroserus,” he said calmly. “A healer. A mage. They care for the ancient Lactimol—the Mother—for Phil, for the Shi-Moo, for the Seruses, for the Fliruses. And… sometimes for humans.”

  Everything inside me turned over.

  “So… this is all… arranged?” I breathed.

  The word escaped on its own.

  “Protected,” he corrected gently. “Not arranged.”

  He paused.

  “But yes. Nothing here has been accidental for a long time.”

  I felt cold, despite the warm green air.

  “Horrifying…” I murmured. “All of this…”

  Alexander nodded.

  “Unfortunately,” he said quietly, “after what happened, we had to strengthen the protection even further. The Dome. The contours. The links.”

  He glanced at the ceiling.

  “I’ll show you everything later. When you’re ready.”

  He stood.

  “I think I’ll leave you for now,” he said more softly. “You need time. And rest. You did well.”

  He looked at Pi-Pu.

  “And you, bandit,” he added, “behave yourself.”

  Pi-Pu yawned.

  Alexander looked at me once more.

  “I’m glad you came back to yourself, Molly.”

  Pause.

  “I’ll see you later.”

  He winked at me, turned, and walked away—dissolving between the vines.

  I lay there, stroking the warm, fluffy Pi-Pu, and for the first time truly understood:

  everything I had thought was strange

  had only been preparation.