The amber light from the Golden Lotus flickered against my chest, its calm pulse quickening into a sharp, rhythmic heartbeat that sent a cool shiver down my spine.
Across the wooden floor, Neak froze mid-instruction. Nimol’s eyes snapped toward the high windows, her stance instantly dropping into a low, defensive guard. Out in the courtyard, the sharp clack of bamboo training posts gave way to a dead, sudden quiet.
Fifteen years had passed since Grandma Dary and Grandpa Kiri were laid to rest, but the legacy they built in this Navy Yard compound had grown into a sprawling canopy. Our family wasn't just a handful of survivors anymore—it was a full legion.
"In," I commanded softly, my voice carrying the unshakeable weight Grandpa Kiri used to project. "All kids, fall back to the inner ring. Now!"
Without a single beat of panic, the room moved as a single organism.
My eldest daughter, Sorya, stepped back to take charge of the perimeter, while my second daughter, Channya, flanked her to lock down our inner defensive ring. My youngest son, Kiri—who had already grown taller than both of his older sisters and stood nearly eye-to-eye with Neak—stepped up beside them, using his long reach to anchor the center.
Around my three kids, the rest of the new generation fell into place. Nimol’s two adult children, Sophea and Bopha, took up positions right alongside Sorya and Channya, while ushering their younger teenage siblings, Rath and Neary, behind them.
Neak’s adopted son, Arun, stood tall at his father's side, his eyes steady and sharp. Nearby, Veicha’s son, Dara, and daughter, Devi, shielded the younger ones, while Vannak’s adult stepson, Vanna, gathered his nine-year-old half-brother, Samnang, close to the back wall.
Every single child—from the adults like Sophea and Bopha who remembered the elders to young Samnang who had only heard their stories—moved with the fluid, grounded discipline of Boran.
A heavy, resonant thud echoed against the reinforced steel gate of our compound. It wasn't the ravenous, chaotic clawing of the old Hollowkin. This was deliberate. Measured.
"Sensing four signatures," Nimol murmured, stepping up to my left with her lead arm raised. "Structured energy. High-frequency rift gear."
"They're targeting the Lotus," Neak said, unholstering his staff on my right. "Word must have traveled that the old guardians passed, and they assumed our bloodline grew weak with time."
A quiet, confident smile touched my lips as I stepped into the center of the formation, letting the Golden Lotus rest securely against my chest while my hands came up into the open-palm guard of master-level Boran.
The iron gate shuddered as a surge of dark, refined force blew the deadbolts inward. Four tall, cloaked figures crossed the threshold, their faces hidden behind polished silver masks etched with glowing rift runes. The leader stepped forward, his eyes gleaming behind the mask's slits as he took in the scene—the wooden floor, the three generations, and the web of family protecting every corner of the room.
"The elders are dead," the leader rasped, his voice echoing like grinding stone. "Surrender the relic, and your line ends peacefully."
"Our grandparents may be gone, but their blood flows through every single person in this room," I said, stepping forward as the golden aura of the Lotus flared bright, wrapping around my forearms in ribbons of warm, unbreakable light. "You brought four fighters. You're standing against a family."
Neak struck first, his staff sweeping low in a blinding Boran arc that shattered the lead intruder's balance, while Nimol, Arun, Sophea, and my son Kiri closed the distance with razor-sharp precision. Behind us, Sorya, Channya, and the rest of the kids held the rear guard, watching firsthand that the strength of our family was an eternal fire.