Riven looked through the telescope again, his breath catching slightly at the sight of the planets. Was this Earth? He didn’t know. Whatever it was, it was heavily inspired from real life.
The cold air nipped at his cheeks, but the thick coat Soren had wrapped him in kept him warm. After a while, Riven lowered the telescope and turned to Soren, curiosity in his voice.
"Where’d you learn all this?"
Soren was quiet for a mont. His eyes didn’t et Riven’s right away. Instead, he looked out at the horizon, at the dark sky slowly deepening into night.
"There was a ti," Soren began, his voice softer than usual, "when my mother would send away from the house."
Riven tilted his head. "Send you away? Why?"
Soren shrugged slightly, though his jaw tensed. "She said she had work to do. I was just a young child at the ti. It was a small, broken house, nothing much inside. Cold in the winters, hot in the sumrs. I never really understood what kind of work she was doing, but I knew better than to ask questions."
Well, now that he was older, he knew exactly why she wanted him out of the house. And who those n were.
Riven’s brows furrowed. He didn’t interrupt, just stepped a little closer, listening.
"She’d hand sothing—bread if I was lucky—and tell to be gone for a few hours. So days it was fine. Other days, I wandered for so long I forgot what ti it was, and when I got back, she’d be mad at for being late." Soren let out a breathy chuckle. "Not that it made sense. Nothing really did back then."
Riven’s heart squeezed painfully. He imagined a small version of Soren—tired, cold, and quiet, wandering the woods or sitting sowhere alone with a growling stomach.
"I started coming up here," Soren said, waving vaguely at the cliffs. "Not all the way to the top, just far enough to be away. It was quiet. I didn’t have anything to keep warm. Just... sat there. Hugging myself."
He paused, and Riven reached out, gently threading his fingers through Soren’s gloved hand. Soren looked down at the touch, then gave him a faint, grateful smile.
"Then one day, I saw her," he continued. "A woman. She was older, maybe in her thirties. She had a telescope, notebooks, little pieces of parchnt filled with stars and dots and lines. I didn’t even know what she was doing at first."
"What happened?" Riven asked softly.
"She noticed sitting a little ways away. I was shivering, and my clothes were thin. She didn’t say anything at first—just offered a corner of her blanket and kept working. I didn’t talk. I didn’t trust people easily. But I kept watching her that night. And the next ti I ca, she brought sothing for to wear. A thick scarf and gloves. She didn’t know if I would be back, but she brought them anyway."
Riven smiled. "That’s so sweet and considerate. She thought about you."
Soren nodded. "She did. And she started talking to then. Taught the nas of stars, constellations, the zodiac. Told stories about them. It was the first ti in my life soone spoke to kindly, without wanting sothing."
Riven’s eyes were damp. He stepped closer and hugged Soren tightly. "I’m glad she found you. And I’m glad... You didn’t freeze to death." Riven was... He made jokes in such monts, which was his coping chanism. He really felt for Soren, he did.
Soren held him back, resting his chin on Riven’s head. " too."
The woman still t him at the mountainside every few days. She brought extra bread, wrapped him in warr coats, and told him stories about the stars. But lately, she seed slower. Her face looked a little tired. And her belly... It had gotten bigger.
At first, Soren didn’t understand. He did not know what pregnancy looked like. He only knew that sothing was wrong. People only swelled like that when they were sick. And when people get sick... They die.
He sat next to her one evening, eyes stuck on her round belly. She was humming softly, sketching out the Leo constellation for him.
"Are you okay?" he finally asked, his voice small.
She looked up and smiled gently. "Of course, little one."
But that didn’t help. He shook his head, his hands clenching into fists. "You’re getting big... and you move slow... And—" His voice broke. "Are you gonna die?"
Tears were already spilling down his cheeks before he could stop them. "I don’t want you to die! You’re the only one who talks to . Please don’t go..."
Elia’s expression softened completely. She set her book aside and opened her arms. Soren crawled into them like a frightened child, burying his face against her shoulder.
"Oh, Soren..." She whispered, holding him close. "I’m not sick. I’m having a baby."
He blinked up at her, confused. "A baby?"
She smiled and took his small, cold hands in hers, then gently placed them on her round belly.
"There’s a little person growing in here," she said softly. "They’re not ready to co out yet, but they will be soon."
Soren’s breath hitched. He felt sothing. A small movent. A flutter.
His tears stopped, replaced by awe. His arms slowly wrapped around her, and her belly too, as if trying to protect them both. He didn’t speak for a while. He just stayed like that.
"I have a gift for you," she said, stroking his hair.
She reached into her bag and pulled out a brand-new telescope. It glead even in the dim light, black and silver with polished knobs and clean lenses.
"I won’t be able to co up here anymore," she explained. "It’s too cold for the baby, and it’s a bit tiring. But I wanted you to keep looking at the stars... And rember everything we learned."
"You’re leaving?"
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