Coldsnap: The Billionaire Alpha's Fated Pregnant Princess (GL)-Chapter 383 - Mamas Are Comin’ Home: Parental Stash

Chapter 383: Chapter 383 - Mamas Are Comin’ Home: Parental Stash

Frost-covered windows block a lot of the morning light, but some of it still gets through. And of course, it finds its way in prismatic beams right over my face. Since I don’t feel the warmth exactly, it’s the *brightness* that really gets me waking for the third time.

> Not only cleaning himself, I’ll be happy when he can wait more than three hours to eat. <

Sleep schedule has to be the same as his. Has been for these weeks. Honestly, though? It’s not that bad compared to what human women go through.

Their children seem a lot more randomly fussy than mine.

Even though it made her wake up each time too... and even though I was quite sure I fell asleep on the other side of her each time, Kyrie’s arm was again draped protectively around my waist. With steady breathing against my neck that really shouldn’t feel so good.

For a while, I just turned my head slightly and allowed myself to simply revel in the comfort of an embrace. Knowing it would end, eventually, as I couldn’t ignore reality for too long.

The blue shimmer of the Apocalypse System in my peripheral vision demanded my attention. Has been doing so for a while, on sections I’ve refused to open. The Pack Roster, specifically. But I ignore it again in favor of the *new* ’checkmark’ pulse.

| TASK: Formed Your Family |

| TASK COMPLETION ✓ |

| REWARD IMMINENT ⚝ |

It feels like there is not use even frowning at it. If it truly does have a sadistic mind of its own, I’m only feeding it. Though... if I show I can take too much, won’t it just ramp up the harassment?

> Crap, shouldn’t have thought that. <

The tangle of foxfire glow forms into words immediately.

| UPGRADE: Single Parent Stash -> Parental Stash |

| LINKED ABILITY |

| SECONDARY ACCESS GRANTED |

"...Access?"

I whispered unhappily, as my first thought was a bit literal. Jace is the biological father. I’d never Annexed him, but his name *has* been on the pack roster linked to the child for so long.

> Did this stupid system somehow connect him into my ability? Give him access to *my* items? <

A soft rustling beside me interrupted my irritated thoughts. Kyrie stirred and pushed up onto her arms, with a confused look on her face as she blinked rapidly. When she raised a hand to swipe at something invisible in front of her, I understood what was going on.

I mean, I don’t, but I do! Her eyes wide, the orange of her wolf flickering with less control surprise as she squinted at what appeared to be empty air. At the text that or else must be there.

"Is this... you said it just floats to the side, right?"

"What do you see?"

"An orange around the edges of my eyes. A little grid shaped icon. What... what do I do with it?"

Her voice was urgent and excited, asking me for advice while I feel like I’m the one who needs it. My eyes tick to the roster, scared to find what it might show. Not just about the survival of those I’ve grown close to, but about...

"Does it say anything at the top when you open the grid?"

"Two squares with the word [Parental Stash]. Isn’t that... no it’s a little different than what you called it, but it’s how you make the items disappear, right?"

That was what I needed to know. The system had recognized her as my child’s parent. Ignoring everything else in the roster, I open and focus intently on the origin of the ’tree’.

Still linked with a solid line but pushed aside, that Duskpaw’s name now had a buffer of Kyrie Voss put right between us. And it’s so close that I can barely make out that her line is still dotted.

Still tentative. Just like the one stretching towards the [???] of my unnamed son. My voice is barely audible when it finds the strength to part my lips.

"Yes. It’s the storage ability."

"Citra... are you okay? Should this not be happening?"

"I don’t know."

I rolled away and paced off. Feeling like I’d been tricked into this situation. Last night, she’d told me that others had encountered similar situations. The ability to see floating text had come to anyone whom I’d claimed as part of ’my pack’.

On the very hour of the start of it all. Supposedly, according to Claire, it had been something along the lines of:

| Apocalypse Has Commenced |

| Δ Chosen / Citra Lomdi Has Pre-Claimed You As Pack |

| Member Consent Now Required For Changing Fealty |

Which completely upended my understanding of... everything. It made it sound like it wasn’t just about survival, but taking sides. I suppose each Chosen having the ability to form a pack always meant that... except it was more like grouping together out of necessity I’d thought.

Now it feels like war. Like lines of new kingdoms, existing in the frosty remains. But me? All I took from it was that the system’s effects, like seeing it, can be passed along through some unknown method.

And surely the Task and Reward knew that I knew. ’Upped the ante’, as it were, and shared a whole perk with Kyrie. All while grinding in the fact that-

> Damn her. Why is she capable of that? <

My agitation all fled when I turned around during one lap of pacing and bumped into her. When she wrapped me in a hug and stuck her forehead onto mine.

"This is new. All of this. But I think you can use the ability I showed you now?"

"Tell me how. Please."

I took a deep breath and started with... the immediate issue. Kyrie listened without interruption, her gaze occasionally unfocusing, towards the interface only she could see. Then she tried taking a table off the top of the pile.

According to her, everything about it is ’orange’. The glow around her hand. The filled box icon. Whether she puts an item in or I do. Nothing mixes colors quite like mine does. But still, it vanishes like the not-magic it is.

Moreover, we are apparently each capable of storing one ’item’. My own Stockpile interface also has two spots now. It fills the new one when she Stashes something, but neither of us can put in two all on our own.

However, both of us *can* retrieve the item that the other had put inside. Though there seems to be no way of telling just what the item is. Other than the system not allowing it to release in an area too small for it.

"How convoluted."

"It does seem that way. But I’m still... really happy."

Kyrie hopped up and sat on the table she just pulled out of nowhere. A rather giddy expression on her face, even after so many minutes of experiments and tests. I guess it is interesting, but is it really worth getting so joyful over?

"...Were you perhaps the sort of person in this world who always wished there was magic and grew disappointed as you aged that it didn’t exist as deeply as you hoped?"

She waved her hand at me in a beckoning motion. My back straightens and my arms twist while locking straight down at my sides. I am *not* just rushing over like a pet being called!

When she chuckles - and I know she’s doing it because my thoughts are right on my soured face - I look away and take a step forward. Because I’m feeling manipulated either way. Then another, until she finally reaches out to the back of my neck and pulls me tight.

"There’s that too. But I’m happier to have something in common with you. So tell me what I should store inside it for you, Princess. I’m happy to follow the order and be of service."

"You’ve said happy like three times in less than a minute, quit it."

The silly wolf kisses me on top of the head. It tickles, her lips are just kind of cold, and-

"No. I don’t think I will, Citra. Not while you’re by my side. It’s okay to get used to it."

Her ’love’ is warm. Too warm.

It feels like it is going to turn the contents of my soul molten - and cause it to pour out of every little hole I covered instead of properly repairing in my youth.

I felt something I hadn’t allowed myself to really feel in a very long time. Literally... or metaphysically, at least, oozing out like a moat around the slab of | Guardian’s Composure | anchored now at the center my soul.

Vrika sniffed at the glowing orange liquid, curious to its nature. So I answered the beast, knowing exactly what it was.

> Hope. <

Not floating away like a lightness that can’t ever be wrangled. Lingering, like a weight that is seeking to chain me for good.

And it’s expectation, that I rely on it, was crushing me.

...Or maybe she’s just hugging too hard again.