(MASON'S POV)
I stared at my own hand, watching as glow seeped through the bandages wrapped around my forearms. The fabric was burning away, crumbling to ash, revealing skin that was now covered in brilliant, luminous cracks—like someone had taken a hammer to me and light was leaking through the fractures.
"What...?"
I hadn't meant to do that. I hadn't even known I 'could' do that. My body had answered before my mind could catch up, some ancient part of me awakening from a slumber.
The Sirens were recovering now, their faces shifting from shock to fury. The first one—their leader—was staring at me with something I'd never seen in her gray eyes ever since I arrived.
'Fear.'
"Impossible," she breathed. "He's mortal. He even smells like a mortal."
"Papa?" Beau's small voice cut through my confusion. "Papa, you're glowing."
I looked down at my son. At his wide, surprised eyes. At his tiny hand reaching up to touch my face.
