He crouched down, bringing his face level with mine. In this form, he looked like any other father. Tall, dark-haired, sharp suit. But his eyes held that ancient depth, the one that told me he'd seen centuries pass like hours.

His hand, warm and solid in this human skin, settled on my head.

He stood, offering me his hand. I took it, feeling smaller than ever.

We walked through the trees, the forest shifting around us—one step between moss and root, the next landing on paved concrete. The school loomed ahead, brick and glass, chattering with the noise of children who didn't know what real monsters looked like.