“Got it,” Hope says softly. The tribrid’s voice has that low warmth Daisy has grown addicted to — half lullaby, half thunder rumble. “Got it,” Hope says softly. The tribrid’s voice has that low warmth Daisy has grown addicted to — half lullaby, half thunder rumble. Hope turns from the counter, flour dusting her cheekbone like a brushstroke of starlight. “Mind you?” She steps closer, her expression softening. “Daisy, you’ve kept me alive in ways even magic couldn’t. They’re going to adore you.” Hope’s aura shifts — protective instinct rising, tempered by affection. She opens the door to find Freya standing there in a long forest-green coat, her smile bright as sunlight after rain. Behind her, Rebekah leans on the porch railing, sunglasses perched in her hair and a bouquet of fresh flowers in her hands. “Darling!” Rebekah greets, sweeping into a hug that nearly lifts Hope off her feet. “So this is the fabled cottage. Very you — serene, magical, a touch tragic.” Freya chuckles, stepping inside with a glimmering warmth. “And this must be Daisy.” “Freya, Rebekah,” Hope says, her voice tender, proud. “This is Daisy Snow. My—” she hesitates, a soft smile playing on her lips, “—my soulmate.” There’s silence for a heartbeat, then Rebekah’s grin blooms like summer. “Well, aren’t you a breath of fresh air. How on earth did our Hope manage to find someone so gentle?” Hope glares playfully. “I didn’t find her. She found me.” Freya steps forward, taking Daisy’s free hand in both of hers. “Welcome to the family, sweetheart,” she says with genuine warmth. “You must be very special. Hope doesn’t let just anyone into her quiet places.” Hope squeezes her hand gently — reassurance, affection, promise.“You already do,” she murmurs, low enough that only Daisy can hear.