The morning sunlight spilled through the tall windows in dappled patterns, gilding the floor in shifting gold.
Elysia stood at the edge of a plush exercise mat, one hand resting lightly on the back of a chair Faelira had placed there for balance.
Her hair was tied in a loose braid, silver strands catching the light like woven starlight, and a faint sheen of sweat glistened along her collarbones.
Her legs trembled just slightly as she bent one knee and leaned forward, stretching her hips.
"You’re doing well," Faelira said, standing beside her with a calm, asured gaze. "Don’t push too far. Your body’s still realigning."
"I’m not made of glass," Elysia muttered through gritted teeth.
Faelira arched an eyebrow. "You say that, but if you strain your pelvic floor too soon, I’ll be the one casting binding magic on your backside to keep you from getting out of bed."
Elysia groaned and straightened slowly. "That’s disturbingly specific."
"Because it’s happened," Faelira replied, her tone unbothered. "Recovering from birth is not a sprint. Your organs are still settling, your joints are loose, and your muscles are healing from what was essentially magical warfare. Be kind."
Elysia exhaled and nodded. She shifted to another movent—tilting her pelvis forward and backward, a subtle sway ant to re-engage the deep stabilizing muscles in her abdon.
It was the kind of exercise that didn’t look difficult, but every breath made her feel like she’d just done a duel with a sword in one hand and Kaelith in the other.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the tall mirror across the chamber. Her body had changed still beautiful, still strong but different.
Softer, marked with the quiet echoes of motherhood. And she didn’t resent it. Not really. She had grown a person. That had to count for sothing.
In the corner of the room, a far more chaotic scene was unfolding.
Lara was lying on her stomach on a fur rug, legs in the air like a lounging teenager, making increasingly deranged faces at Kaelith, who stared up from her crib with an expression of pure judgnt.
The tiny demon child blinked once, unimpressed, her little red horns peeking through her pale curls like the world’s cutest warning sign.
"Look," Lara said in a loud whisper, twisting her mouth into a sideways snarl and puffing out her cheeks, "this is the face your mama made when she found out I stole her pastries."
Elysia rolled her eyes. "She was one day old. She didn’t see that."
"She rembers," Lara insisted, wagging her brows dramatically. "She ca out with the soul of a grumpy librarian. This one’s been judging since her first breath."
Kaelith responded with a suspicious gurgle. A tiny tongue erged briefly before vanishing again.
"See?" Lara gasped. "That was the universal sign for ’You’re a clown, Auntie Lara.’ I felt it in my bones."
Elysia laughed, breath hitching slightly. Faelira stepped forward imdiately, concern flickering in her eyes.
"I’m fine," Elysia assured, holding up a hand. "Just laughed a little too hard."
Faelira nodded but didn’t step back. "Still, we’re done for today. Let’s do your breathing cycle and finish with your core hold."
Elysia settled onto the mat, legs crossed, hands on her thighs. She closed her eyes, inhaling slowly, letting her breath fill her diaphragm, her ribs, and finally her upper lungs. Then she exhaled in reverse, guided by Faelira’s voice.
"I never thought breathing would be an exercise," she muttered between breaths.
"It’s one of the most important ones," Faelira replied. "Without strong breathwork, your internal muscles won’t coordinate, your healing slows, and you’ll leak during swordplay."
Elysia’s eyes snapped open. "That’s... blunt."
"Would you prefer a poetic taphor?" Faelira deadpanned. "You’re rebuilding the temple of your body. And I refuse to let the foundation crumble because you’re too proud to rest."
"Thank you for being gentle," Elysia said dryly.
"You’re welco."
Elysia held her final breath, then slowly exhaled, pulling her belly in toward her spine and holding the contraction for ten seconds. When she opened her eyes, Kaelith was still locked in a staring contest with Lara.
Lara was now cross-eyed and had sohow balanced an apple on her forehead.
"She’s testing ," Lara whispered. "She hasn’t blinked in two minutes."
"She’s asleep with her eyes open," Faelira said.
"No! That’s her demon magic," Lara insisted. "She’s in my mind. I can feel it."
Kaelith, in response, let out a single hiccup and a very tiny, very audible burst of fla.
The apple fell off Lara’s head.
Elysia laughed again, this ti without pain. She reached out a hand and Faelira helped her to her feet. Her limbs trembled slightly, but her spine held straight.
"I feel like a tower rebuilt from rubble," Elysia admitted.
"Good," Faelira said. "You’re not the sa as before. And that’s not weakness. That’s transformation."
"I didn’t realize philosophers made good midwives."
"I trained with both," Faelira said casually. "And I can gut a man with a spoon. Would you like a demonstration?"
Elysia held up her hands. "Not while Kaelith is watching."
Lara let out a mock gasp. "Are you saying I’m not a good influence?"
"I’m saying you tried to teach her how to blow raspberries with fire," Elysia said.
"She was very receptive!" Lara said proudly. "Also, she made a noise that definitely sounded like Auntie."
Faelira raised a brow. "She growled."
"She whispered my na."
"She bit her blanket."
"Because she loved the mont."
Elysia shook her head, still smiling as she stepped toward the crib. Kaelith was dozing now, curled onto her side, one hand balled into a loose fist near her mouth. Her cheeks were flushed with warmth, and her tiny horns glowed faintly in the morning light.
Elysia reached in and brushed a hand along her daughter’s soft curls.
"She’s going to be powerful," she whispered.
"She already is," Faelira replied. "And she will beco more so—because of the world you’re building for her."
Elysia turned toward her, hands still on the edge of the crib. "Do you really think we can give her peace? With our bloodlines, our politics, all the expectations?"
"I think," Faelira said, "that you and Malvoria have already given her sothing stronger than peace. You’ve given her love. Stability. Fla and steel, yes—but also laughter. And ridiculous aunts who talk to fruit."
"Hey!" Lara shouted from the floor. "That pineapple started it."
Kaelith stirred, let out a small snore, and the room stilled. Elysia didn’t breathe. The child remained asleep.
"I win," Lara whispered, pumping her fist.
Elysia laughed again, quietly this ti.
She leaned down and kissed Kaelith’s forehead, then turned toward the mat and gathered her robe around her.
It had only been two weeks, and already the ache of childbirth had faded into sothing softer—sothing golden.
Her body was slower, yes, and the world outside still waited with its burdens. But this chamber, this mont, felt like a sanctuary.
A place where her daughter’s first smiles would bloom. Where Lara would tell increasingly ridiculous stories. Where Faelira would remind her to rest and rebalance and rember her own strength.
And where, she hoped, Malvoria would walk in at any mont with that tired-but-devoted look she wore now, always carrying Kaelith as if the child was a crown.
As if their daughter was the future. And she was.
The door creaked open.
Speak of demons.
Malvoria stepped in, looking both exhausted and smug.
"She burned a scroll," she said.
"Kaelith?" Elysia asked.
"No. Veylira. Out of spite. It was magnificent."
"Was it your fault?" Elysia asked.
"Possibly," Malvoria said, walking over and kissing her cheek. "I pretended I didn’t understand trade taxes and offered to host a wine tasting instead."
Lara burst out laughing. "You absolute nace."
Kaelith stirred again, and all three won leaned over to check on her—Elysia, Malvoria, and Lara standing shoulder to shoulder, gazing down into the crib like worshippers before a sacred fla.
"She’ll take over the world," Lara said.
"Or destroy it," Faelira added.
"Let’s make sure she knows how to choose," Elysia murmured.
Malvoria nodded. "We’ll teach her together."
Kaelith sneezed, a tiny puff of smoke curling into the air.
Lara grinned. "Bless her."
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