Kallisto's POV

Darkness surrounds a woman with a lovely face sitting beside a window as scenes of New York fly past and the train moves forward. She's dressed in blue army fatigues, looking straight ahead, and cradles a six-month-old baby wrapped in a pink blanket.

The closer I move toward her, the more I can recognize her now. It's Freya. Her long black hair has a white lock that suddenly falls across her forehead, and her nails are long and sharp. She looks ...