Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I’m Stuck as Their Baby!

We stared at each other, the quiet punctuated by our shared, nervous laughter—a sound both comforting and utterly inadequate.

Neither of us spoke. Neither of us moved. There was a strange comfort in just standing together, the silence softening the edges of our fear, yet sharpening our anticipation.

Finally, I forced myself to break the quiet. "Are we really going to do this?"

Velka's eyes flickered to mine, the faintest smirk teasing her lips. "Now you're asking?"

"I thought I'd at least pretend to be cautious," I admitted, lips quirking despite myself.

"You're terrible at it," she remarked dryly.

"I know," I sighed. "It's one of my many charms."

Velka rolled her eyes, but she smiled, and the tight coil of tension in my chest loosened slightly. Her fingers brushed gently against mine a silent reassurance, grounding me in the moment.

"Alright, princess," Velka said softly, tipping her head toward the mirror. "Let's see just how doomed we really are."

I swallowed, stepping forward once more. The black fabric lay crumpled on the floor like a discarded cloak, forgotten in our eagerness. The mirror gleamed faintly under the soft candlelight, its glass strangely alluring. I reached out, fingertips hovering just over the polished surface.

And then, holding my breath, I touched it.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Just cool glass beneath my fingers, smooth and ordinary. But as I drew back my hand, the glass rippled suddenly, its silvery surface shifting and blurring as if I'd disturbed a quiet pool.

I glanced at Velka, wide-eyed. Her grip tightened reassuringly on my hand, a silent reminder that I wasn't alone.

Slowly, the image settled clear and vivid, bathed in shadows and flame.

The breath caught sharply in my throat.

It was… me. Older. Fiercer. I stood tall, dressed in robes as dark as midnight, embroidered with threads of silver and gold. My hair cascaded freely, waves of silver falling over my shoulders, the amber and blue of my eyes piercing, unwavering.

I was seated upon a throne of flames burning crimson fire twisted and roared beneath me, licking at the gilded edges without burning them, as if under my command. The flames shifted restlessly.

But that wasn't all.

Behind me, Velka stood, her stance poised and powerful. Her presence was subtle but commanding, her crimson eyes gleaming with a quiet confidence I had never quite seen before. She was clothed in black armor, elegant and unyielding, the crest of an ancient vampiric house etched proudly across her chest.

And in her hands was a crown a cruel circlet of iron, sharp and merciless.

Velka looked down at me with a mixture of pride, respect, and something else—something deeper and infinitely more complicated than simple devotion. The future versions of ourselves exchanged no words, yet volumes of meaning passed silently between them.

My heartbeat quickened, pounding erratically within my chest. I glanced nervously toward the real Velka, whose face was pale with astonishment.

"Is that…us?" she breathed, barely audible.

"I think it is," I whispered, voice shaking slightly.

"I look… impressive," Velka murmured, clearly trying and failing to hide her surprise.

"Of course you'd focus on that," I muttered, but my own astonishment kept the teasing mild. "Why am I on a throne of fire?"

"Maybe because you're dramatic?" Velka suggested, arching an eyebrow.

"Says the vampire holding an iron crown."

"It's symbolic," she shot back defensively. "Or something."

Before I could answer, the mirror's image began to ripple again, shifting restlessly. The figures blurred, their outlines growing indistinct, the scene melting into shadows. A faint vibration hummed through the air, making my skin prickle uneasily.

Then, with a sudden, ear-splitting crack, the mirror shattered.

Velka jerked back, shielding her face instinctively. Glass exploded outward, splintering into hundreds of tiny shards but before they reached us, they froze mid-air, suspended by some invisible force, glistening in the candlelight.

From the darkness behind the fragmented glass, a shadow emerged—tall and insubstantial, its edges blurred. It was humanoid, but featureless, a shape composed entirely of swirling darkness.

Velka stepped protectively beside me, eyes narrowed defiantly. I couldn't help but smile briefly, heart fluttering at her instinctive bravery.

"What are you?" I demanded, forcing strength into my voice. "What do you want from us?"

The shadow tilted its head slowly, seeming to regard us with quiet amusement. Then it spoke a voice like silk and smoke, low and resonant, threading through the air as gently as a serpent.

"The past returns, and the crown remembers."

"Great. More cryptic nonsense," Velka muttered beside me, but I noticed her fingers trembling slightly. She wasn't as unaffected as she wanted to appear.

The shadow laughed softly a sound chilling and strangely intimate. "You both pretend ignorance, yet deep down you know the truth. This is not your first story. Nor will it be your last."

I frowned deeply, confused and irritated. "If you have something useful to say, say it clearly."

"Ah, child," it crooned mockingly. "If only clarity came without cost. The truth is hidden for your protection. For now."

Velka scoffed softly, eyes narrowing. "Convenient."

"Perhaps," the shadow admitted smoothly. "But some doors must remain locked until you're ready to face what lies behind them."

Before we could protest further, the shadow shifted once more, dissolving into swirling darkness, shards of mirror suddenly clattering harmlessly to the floor.

I stared at the scattered glass, heart thundering within my chest. "What in the hells was that?"

Velka exhaled slowly, shaking her head. "A warning. Or a promise. Honestly, I'm not sure which is worse."

I glanced at her, something in her steady presence calming my racing thoughts. Her expression was carefully blank, but I saw the worry flickering behind her eyes the same worry that gnawed at my bones.

"You don't believe it's lying, do you?" I asked quietly.

She hesitated, then shook her head slightly. "No. Unfortunately, it felt entirely too sincere."

I laughed weakly, leaning closer to her instinctively, needing her nearness as reassurance. She stiffened briefly, then relaxed into the touch, the warmth between us quieting my chaotic thoughts.

"So," I finally murmured, staring at the broken mirror. "A throne of fire, huh?"

Velka's lips twitched. "It suits you."

"Thanks," I sighed dryly. "And your iron crown is very... you."

"Thank you," she said smugly. "It's all in the aura of superiority."

We exchanged a quick, relieved smile humor was easier than fear, easier than truth. It was our shield, our lifeline in this strange storm of prophecy and revelation.

I knelt slowly, picking up a shard of glass that glittered under the dim candlelight. My reflection stared back at me young, uncertain, vulnerable.

"I don't understand any of this," I admitted softly, turning the fragment over in my palm.

Velka knelt beside me, shoulder brushing mine. "Me neither. But something tells me we're meant to."

I smiled faintly, nudging her gently. "I'm glad you're here. Even if we have no idea what we're doing."

"Especially then," she whispered quietly, voice barely audible. "It makes it less terrifying."

I looked at her sharply, something aching gently in my chest. "Yeah. It really does."

For a long moment, we knelt in silence among the scattered shards lost in our thoughts, and each other. The quiet stretched comfortably now, no longer frightening, simply companionable.

"Should we clean this up?" Velka asked eventually, gesturing vaguely at the mess.

"Nah," I said lightly. "The library ghosts will love it."

She laughed, the sound easing something heavy in my chest, her smile lighting her eyes in a way that felt wonderfully familiar.

"Come on," I whispered gently, standing and holding out a hand. "Let's get out of here before we find another cryptic prophecy."

She accepted my hand without hesitation, fingers lacing firmly with mine. As we slipped quietly back through the hidden passageway.