We sprinted through the long corridors toward the infirmary, the sterile scent of antiseptic growing stronger with every step. My mind was a storm of memories I had tried to bury. Hazel. The son of Yoan, the woman Nathaniel had left me for. The child who was a living reminder of the betrayal that once shattered my life.

When we burst through the double doors, the air was thick with the sound of a baby’s frantic wailing.

"Luna, stay back!" Dr. Liana called out, but I pushed past her.

In the center of the room, huddled on a medical cot, was a young boy, maybe eight. His face was smeared...