The demonlings were growing steadily now, much to Ive’s simultaneous delight and despair.

They were her children. She loved them... right?

Of course she did.

And yet, no matter how desperately she tried, she could still see traces of their sire within them. The devil lingered stubbornly in her mind, haunting her dreams night after night until exhaustion became something painfully familiar.

This morning was no different.

Blue eyes fluttered open slowly, settling upon the two small forms curled against her side. Both children slept soundly, peaceful and warm beneath the shelter of the Grove.

There was nothing monstrous about them.

Nothing demonic.

They were only children.

She reminded herself of that constantly, though some quieter, uglier part of her still whispered otherwise.

Lowering her head onto her paws, Ive simply watched them sleep for a while. The gentle rise and fall of their tiny chests stirred an unexpected warmth within her chest. Truthfully, she loved watching them beneath the protective canopy of the Grove, chasing one another through the trees, tumbling clumsily through the undergrowth, carrying that wild and free-spirited joy only children seemed capable of.

It gave her hope.

Hope that perhaps they would grow into something good. Something wholesome despite the darkness tied to their blood.

Slowly leaning forward, Ive brushed her tongue gently over each of their heads in turn, a rare display of maternal affection from the usually distant woman.