Luna’s wings twitched as she slept, brushing against the edge of her bed. Her breathing quickened, and her hands clenched the blanket tightly. The nightmare began again, vivid and relentless.

The cold, sterile light of the laboratory seared her eyes. The metallic hum of machinery filled the room, blending with the distant sound of muffled cries. Her wings were pinned, bound tightly to a steel table, the restraints biting into her skin.

“Specimen Alpha-12,” the faceless voice echoed. “Subject to recalibration. Proceed with progeny testing.”

Her heart dropped. Progeny.

From the corner of the room, a small figure emerged. Cerenity.

The child’s bright eyes, so full of curiosity and trust, locked onto hers. “Mommy?” Cerenity’s voice wavered, unsure but seeking comfort.

“No,” Luna whispered, straining against the restraints. Her voice grew louder, desperation building. “No! Leave her alone!”

The operatives ignored her pleas, their shadowy forms closing in on Cerenity. One leaned close, murmuring, “Her potential is even greater than yours. We’ll make her perfect.”

Luna’s instincts surged. Her wings tore free from the bindings with a burst of pain, and she lunged forward, feathers scattering across the room.

But it was too late. The shadows swallowed Cerenity, her cries fading into the void.

“Mommy, help!”

Luna dove after her, wings straining against the pull of the darkness. She reached out, her fingertips brushing her daughter’s hand—

And then the void consumed them both.

Luna jolted awake, her chest heaving. The dim light of her quarters aboard the Ark Angel slowly came into focus, the familiar hum of the ship grounding her. Her wings flared out instinctively, knocking against the wall before folding tightly against her back.

For a moment, she sat frozen, her pulse racing as the vivid images of the nightmare clung to her mind. The voice’s words—“greater potential”—echoed in her head, a haunting reminder of what Section 31 had taken and what they might try to take again.

Her gaze darted to the door across the common area that led to Cerenity’s room. The thought of her daughter asleep, safe and sound, gave her the strength to push the nightmare aside. It was just a dream, she told herself. She’s fine. She’s safe.

But the gnawing unease wouldn’t fade. Rising from her bed, Luna padded quietly across the common area, her bare feet silent against the cold floor. She hesitated outside Cerenity’s door before pressing the control to open it.

The room was softly lit by the faint glow of a starlight projector on the ceiling, casting constellations across the walls. Cerenity was curled up beneath her blanket, her small wings tucked around her like a cocoon.

Luna let out a shaky breath, relief washing over her. She stepped inside, careful not to wake her, and adjusted the blanket to cover Cerenity’s shoulders.

“I’ll keep you safe,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “No matter what.”

She turned to leave but froze when she heard a sleepy voice behind her.

“Another bad dream?” Cerenity asked, her tone groggy but knowing.

Luna hesitated, her back still to her daughter. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice steady.

“You always check on me when you have one,” Cerenity murmured, shifting slightly. “You don’t have to hide it from me, Mommy.”

Luna turned slowly, her expression softening. “I’m not hiding anything,” she said gently, kneeling beside the bed. “I just… I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine, Mommy,” Cerenity said with a sleepy smile. “You always keep me safe.”

Luna’s heart tightened at her daughter’s unwavering trust. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Cerenity’s forehead. “Always,” she whispered.

Cerenity’s eyes fluttered closed, and within moments, her breathing evened out as she drifted back to sleep. Luna stayed for a moment longer, watching her daughter with a quiet determination.

Adding Unease

As Luna walked back to her room, she paused in the common area. The dim light felt heavier than usual, the shadows along the walls deeper. Her wings shifted uneasily. The Ark Angel was quiet, but her instincts prickled, a nagging feeling she couldn’t shake.

She glanced over her shoulder toward Cerenity’s door. Everything’s fine, she told herself. She’s safe.

Yet as she sat on the edge of her bed, she couldn’t help but notice a faint mark on her forearm. It wasn’t there yesterday—three small, parallel lines, almost like scratches. She rubbed at them, but they didn’t fade.

Luna’s jaw tightened as unease curled in her chest. The nightmares might not be all in her head. For now, she pushed the thought aside, focusing on the rhythmic hum of the ship to calm her racing heart.

But she knew she’d be watching her daughter a little closer tomorrow.

ensign Luna