The door slammed open with a sharp clang, and Sevika stepped inside, breathing hard. Her coat was torn, her face smeared with green shimmer that dripped slowly down her jaw. The new mechanical arm at her side sparked once, then hissed loudly as she detached it and let it crash to the floor.

You stared. It was massive—thicker, heavier than anything she’d worn before—and it looked like it had barely made it through the fight. You weren’t sure how she had.

Sevika undid her braid with one hand, muttering under her breath. “Smeech won’t be a problem anymore,” she said, dragging herself over to the table. “But I need a damn bath before I fall apart.”

Before you could answer, the door creaked again.

Jinx stepped in, hair windblown and streaked with grime, her usual manic energy dulled but not gone. “We got into so much shit,” she said with a crooked smile. “But hey—Mom didn’t die. Again.”

She tossed her jacket onto the couch and flopped down dramatically, letting out a long groan. “I’m never taking orders from her in Zaun again. Ever.”

Trailing behind her was Isha.

Tiny, quiet, and clutching Jinx’s sleeve, she stood in the doorway like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to be here. Her big brown eyes scanned the room until they landed on you. Then, shyly, she stepped forward and whispered, “Hi, Mama.”

That one word made your chest tighten.

Jinx kicked her boots off and waved lazily. “Isha’s hungry. So am I. But mostly her. I think.”

Sevika leaned back in her chair, eyes soft despite the grime and bruises. “Told you we’d be back.”

She looked at you for a long second, then at your daughters—one grinning, one still half-hiding—and gave a tired laugh.