Sunlight spilled in through the curtains, gentle and warm as it danced along the blankets tangled around us. I let out a quiet breath and closed my eyes for a moment, just letting it sink in. Kailaa still clung to me, her fingers curled loosely into the fabric of my shirt, and I could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing against my chest.

  A soft groan came from Elias as he shifted slightly, snuggling closer to Apolloh’s side. Apolloh, still not fully awake, instinctively wrapped an arm around him without opening his eyes. I smiled at the sight.

  “Guess none of us made it back to our own beds last night,” Apolloh murmured eventually, his voice husky from sleep but warm with affection.

  “I was warm… didn’t wanna move,” Elias mumbled, still half-asleep and not the least bit sorry about it.

  “You’re welcome to sneak in anytime,” I whispered, brushing Kailaa’s hair back from her face.

  “Thanks, Momma Laika…”

  Those words—simple and soft—made something inside me flutter. I blinked away the unexpected sting of tears.

  Apolloh’s hand found mine under the blanket. He gave it a light squeeze. “Looks like we’ve been officially claimed.”

  “I think I’m okay with that,” I whispered, squeezing his hand in return.

  No one rushed. No one moved to get up. The world outside could wait. For now, wrapped up in warmth, love, and the steady breath of the ones I cherished most… this moment was all I needed.

  ———

  Time drifted in that golden haze of warmth and breath and softness. No one spoke for a while—not because there was nothing to say, but because nothing needed saying. Kailaa eventually dozed back off in my arms, her body slack and content. Elias barely moved at all, still nestled into Apolloh’s side like he belonged there.

  And he did. They both did.

  When I finally stirred to sit up, my movements slow and gentle, Apolloh cracked one eye open. “Leaving me already?” he teased, voice still thick with sleep.

  “I’m just stretching,” I whispered with a soft smile, brushing my fingers over his cheek. “We’ve got all the time in the world today.”

  He leaned into my touch before kissing my palm. “Then I’ll take my time getting up, too.”

  I chuckled under my breath, then slipped out from under the blankets, careful not to disturb Kailaa. She barely stirred, sighing softly as she curled into the warm spot I’d left behind.

  Padding softly into the hallway, I was greeted by the distant smell of something sweet and warm wafting in from the kitchen—berry-stuffed pastries and fresh bread by the scent of it. My stomach gave an appreciative rumble.

  When I stepped into the kitchen, I found Zia standing at the stove, humming a light tune under her breath, while Jaxe carefully spooned a golden glaze over a tray of tiny cinnamon rolls arranged in the shape of a sun.

  “Morning,” I said softly, not wanting to disrupt the peace of it all.

  Zia turned with a bright smile. “You’re up! We thought we’d surprise the pups with something special. They’ve been little sunshine balls lately.”

  Jaxe added with a wink, “So we made them sunshine buns. Seemed appropriate.”

  My laugh was quiet but genuine. “They’ll love it.”

  Zia wiped her hands on a towel and glanced over her shoulder. “And how are our favorite little sleepyheads?”

  “Still curled up like they never want to move again,” I said, a gentle smile lingering on my lips.

  Zia’s eyes softened. “I’m glad they’ve grown closer to you. The Caregivers were worried that they would never find a wolf family because of their age and how close they are.”

  “Yeah,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper.

  I crossed the kitchen and leaned against the counter, letting the warmth of the oven and the smell of sweet dough wash over me. It wasn’t just the food or the sunshine or the sleepy quiet… it was the feeling of being surrounded by people who made this place feel like home.

  And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I had to prepare for the next storm. Just… be here. Be present.

  A few moments later, I heard soft footsteps behind me and turned to see Elias, rubbing his eyes and dragging a blanket behind him like a cape. “Somethin’ smells really good…”

  Zia beamed. “That’s because your Auntie Zia and Uncle Jaxe made a special breakfast just for you and your sister.”

  Elias blinked up at her, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a sleep-heavy smile. “You guys are the best…”

  “Tell Kailaa to get in here before it gets cold,” Jaxe said, tapping the side of a pot playfully. “We’ve got sweet rolls with her name on them.”

  Elias perked up immediately and spun around, blanket flapping behind him like he was taking flight. “Kailaa! Kailaa, wake up! There’s sunshine buns!!”

  His voice echoed down the hallway, followed by a very sleepy but enthusiastic “I’m coming!” and the quick patter of small feet.

  I just smiled and shook my head, heart full in a way I hadn’t known I needed.

  I watched as Elias tugged Kailaa gently into the kitchen, his little hand wrapped around hers as he led her with quiet urgency. She was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her curls a mess and her steps heavy with drowsiness. But the second the smell hit her nose—sweet honey, warm bread, and a hint of cinnamon—her head lifted, eyes going wide.

  Auntie Zia and Uncle Jaxe looked up at the pair with soft smiles. Zia was already plating something golden and fluffy, and Jaxe had just pulled a small tray of rolls from the oven, their tops glistening with honey-butter.

  “Well, well,” Zia said, her voice lilting with affection, “Look who’s just in time.”

  Kailaa’s face lit up, and without hesitation, she skipped over to Zia, throwing her arms around her waist. “You made the special rolls!”

  “Of course I did,” Zia said, brushing a kiss to the top of her head. “You two deserve a little surprise.”

  Elias looked between the table and the stove, clearly trying to decide whether to be patient or make a move. Uncle Jaxe saved him the trouble, handing him a small plate stacked with fruit and a still-steaming roll. “Here you go, champ. First pick.”

  “Thanks, Uncle Jaxe!” Elias beamed, grabbing the plate with both hands and carefully moving toward the table.

  Kailaa followed close behind, climbing onto the bench with a giggle as Zia delivered her plate next.

  I stayed back in the doorway, arms loosely crossed, heart swelling at the scene in front of me. Apolloh’s arm slid around my waist from behind, his chin resting against my temple.

  “This,” he murmured, watching the pups dig in with bright eyes and eager bites, “is what it’s all about.”

  Kailaa hummed softly between bites, swaying slightly where she sat, her legs dangling from the bench. Her cheeks were puffed with food, and crumbs clung stubbornly to the corner of her mouth. Across from her, Elias had taken his time carefully arranging the slices of fruit around his roll like a crown. He sat back, admiring his work, before picking up a strawberry and popping it into his mouth with a satisfied grin.

  Uncle Jaxe leaned a hip against the counter, arms crossed, a warm, quiet amusement in his gaze as he watched them. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone eat with that much joy before,” he said.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone hum through an entire meal,” Zia added, laughing under her breath as Kailaa giggled mid-bite.

  Kailaa glanced over at her with her mouth still full, cheeks rosy. “It’s so good,” she said, muffled.

  Zia winked at her. “Good food tastes better when you eat it with love, you know.”

  Kailaa gave a sleepy little nod, as if the thought alone made her full.

  Apolloh shifted behind me, his hand rubbing gently along my arm, and I leaned into the warmth of him, resting my head on his shoulder. The light through the window caught the golden strands in Kailaa’s hair and the sweet curve of Elias’s smile as he offered her one of his neatly-arranged apple slices. No drama. No pressure. Just… us. Just this.

  “I could live in this moment,” I whispered.

  “I think we already are,” Apolloh murmured back.

  Neither of us moved.

  Elias leaned back on his hands, his plate mostly empty now except for a single piece of roll he seemed to be saving. Kailaa, meanwhile, had finished her breakfast but stayed seated, swinging her legs and watching the sunlight flicker across the floorboards. She looked content, like the quiet was a lullaby she didn’t want to end.

  Zia had returned to wiping down the counter, but she wasn’t in a hurry. Her motions were slow, almost meditative. Jaxe had barely moved at all, the rare softness in his usually sharp expression lingering. He wasn’t looking at anything in particular—just watching the morning unfold as though he didn’t want to miss a single heartbeat of it.

  Apolloh’s fingers drifted to my hand, threading through mine. I gave his hand a small squeeze and let my eyes drift across the room again. Elias had scooted just a little closer to Kailaa, their shoulders almost touching. I watched as he whispered something, and she let out a quiet giggle, covering her mouth like it was a secret meant only for them.

  My heart ached in the best way.

  Not long ago, these moments felt so far away. Unreachable. But now? They were ours.

  “Do you think they’ll remember this?” I asked quietly, more to myself than to anyone else.

  Apolloh’s thumb brushed against the back of my hand. “They will. Maybe not all of it—but they’ll remember how it made them feel.”

  A pause.

  “Safe,” I said.

  “Loved,” he added.

  And in that silence, everything settled. Not in a heavy way—but like a blanket being pulled over weary shoulders. The world could wait a little longer. This moment belonged to us.

  Zia finally set the cloth down and leaned her elbows on the counter, her chin resting in her palm as she looked over at us. “You know,” she murmured, her voice hushed as though afraid to disturb the peace, “I think this might be the quietest morning we’ve had since you two came back.”

  Jaxe chuckled low in his throat. “Should we be worried? Or savoring it?”

  “Savoring,” Apolloh said without hesitation, his voice warm.

  Kailaa let out a soft hum of agreement before hopping off her chair and padding over to me. She pulled at my pant-leg gently—signaling that the wanted picked up. Awkwardly, I stooped down to pick her up. I wrapped my arms around her instinctively, and she let out a soft sigh, her head resting against my chest.

  Elias came over too, his plate in hand. He didn’t say anything—just set it on the counter and leaned into Apolloh’s side, his small body pressing into the familiar comfort there. Apolloh ruffled his hair gently, and Elias didn’t flinch. He only leaned in a little closer.

  Zia’s expression softened even further at the sight, her eyes glimmering just slightly. “You’ve changed them,” she whispered. “In the best way.”

  “We’ve all changed each other,” I replied, pressing a kiss to the top of Kailaa’s head.

  Silence folded back over us, but this time it wasn’t just peaceful—it felt sacred.

  Eventually, Zia glanced toward the window where the sun had climbed a little higher. “Alright,” she said gently, “time to get dressed. Can’t spend the whole day in pajamas.”

  Kailaa groaned. “But it’s comfy…”

  Elias grinned. “We’ll get dressed after we play, right?”

  Apolloh gave them both a playful look. “Nice try.”

  There was laughter again—soft and real—and that was what finally nudged the morning forward.

  Kailaa and Elias darted down the hallway as soon as they were dismissed, giggling in a way that only kids with a full belly and a full heart could. I could hear the thump-thump-thump of their feet on the wooden floor, followed by the squeals of laughter echoing off the walls. Zia smiled as the noise faded into another room, and I could tell she didn’t mind one bit.

  “They’ve been playing some sort of made-up game the last few days,” she said, chuckling under her breath. “Elias pretends he’s a mountain beast and Kailaa is the only one who can tame him.”

  Jaxe leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “He’s not even trying to be quiet about it anymore. He growls.”

  As if on cue, a monstrous little snarl came from down the hallway, followed by Kailaa’s triumphant yell: “You can’t catch me, mountain beast!”

  More scampering. More laughter.

  Apolloh and I shared a look, the same thought flashing through both of our minds.

  “We should go help them get dressed,” I said, slowly pushing to my feet with a hand bracing my belly. It had become instinctive now, how I moved around the weight of our growing child. Not a burden—never a burden—but a part of every motion now.

  Apolloh stood with me, his hand gently grazing the small of my back. “Before Kailaa starts scaling furniture again.”

  “Oh, that only happened once,” I teased, though I remembered the chaos clearly. “Sort of.”

  We headed down the hallway together, guided by the sound of stomping feet and half-formed roars. Turning the corner, we found Kailaa standing proudly on top of a pile of blankets, holding a pillow like it was a shield. Elias had a hoodie pulled over his head, the hood stuffed with something to make it look like horns. He looked both ridiculous and incredibly proud.

  They froze when they saw us.

  “…Hi,” Kailaa said innocently.

  I tried not to laugh. “Is this the final battle?”

  “It was!” Elias grinned. “But we can pause.”

  “Good idea,” Apolloh said, crouching down as best he could. “How about we trade ‘mountain beast’ for clothes beast?”

  “Only if it doesn’t involve brushing hair,” Kailaa warned.

  “Oh, it definitely involves brushing hair,” I replied.

  They groaned in unison, but I could tell they didn’t mean it. As Apolloh started helping Elias pull off his makeshift costume, I gathered up Kailaa, still wrapped in a blanket, and kissed her temple.

  These moments—this simple, quiet joy—I never wanted them to end.

  Morning light poured gently through the window, golden and warm as it danced across the floor. I sat at the edge of the bed, fingers smoothing down the fabric of my dress. It fit a little differently now—more snug around the bump. I didn’t mind. There was something comforting in the way it wrapped around me, like a quiet reminder that everything was growing exactly as it should.

  Behind me, Kailaa climbed onto the bed, her small fingers brushing along the curve of my belly. “The baby’s still sleeping?” she whispered, her voice soft like she didn’t want to wake them.

  I smiled, turning slightly to meet her gaze. “I think so,” I whispered back. “They’re cozy this morning.”

  Apolloh was standing across the room, buttoning his shirt with that calm, steady rhythm he always had in the mornings. Elias sat cross-legged near his feet, mimicking him with the most serious expression I’d ever seen. He tugged at the air near his neck like he was buttoning his own shirt. I watched as Apolloh looked down, chuckled, and ruffled Elias’s hair.

  “Looking sharp, bud,” he said with a grin.

  I stood slowly, steadying myself with a hand on the bed. Before I could take a step, Apolloh was beside me, his hand warm at the small of my back. I leaned into him, resting my head against his shoulder for just a moment.

  “Today feels… slow,” I murmured, not minding it one bit.

  “The good kind of slow,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to my temple.

  Kailaa and Elias had gone quiet now, the two of them sitting side by side on the bed, watching us like we were some sort of magic trick they hadn’t figured out yet. And maybe, in a way, we were.

  I stayed tucked against Apolloh’s side for a moment longer before pulling back with a smile. “Hey,” I said, turning to the pups, “do you two want to help us with something important?”

  Kailaa’s eyes lit up instantly. Elias sat a little straighter.

  “What is it?” Kailaa asked, already bouncing a bit where she sat.

  “Well…” I placed a hand over my bump. “We’ve been thinking about names for the baby. But we thought maybe you two might have some ideas.”

  Their jaws dropped in unison like we’d just handed them the world.

  “You mean we get to help name the baby?” Elias asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and pure excitement.

  “Yup,” Apolloh said, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed. “You’re part of this family too. Your opinion matters.”

  Kailaa clapped her hands. “Okay, okay! What about… Sparkle?”

  I blinked, fighting a laugh. “Sparkle, huh?”

  She nodded proudly. “Because the baby’s gonna sparkle with love.”

  Elias scrunched his nose. “Nooo, that’s too sparkly. What about… Thunderclaw?”

  Apolloh choked on a laugh. “That’s definitely a strong name.”

  “It sounds like a warrior,” Elias said, puffing out his chest. “What if the baby grows up to be super powerful?”

  “Then we’ll have to get them a tiny sword,” I teased.

  Kailaa was already thinking again, her face suddenly more serious. “What about Lyra?” she said softly. “That’s a pretty name.”

  I met her gaze, my smile softening. “Lyra’s beautiful.”

  Elias flopped onto his back with a groan. “Okay, but what if it’s a boy? We need cool names for a boy too.”

  Apolloh looked over at me, then back to the pups. “Got any cool ones in mind?”

  Elias raised a finger dramatically. “Storm.”

  Kailaa added, “Or… Snuggle.”

  “Snuggle?” Apolloh laughed. “That’s a new one.”

  “I like snuggles,” she said with a shrug. “It could be his nickname.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “These are all amazing. We’ll add them to our list. Storm, Snuggle, Sparkle, Thunderclaw…”

  “And Lyra,” Kailaa whispered, her cheeks glowing with pride.

  “And Lyra,” I repeated, brushing my hand over my bump again. “Thank you both. The baby’s going to feel so loved already.”

  Elias crawled over and rested his head against my side, careful and gentle. “We’ll protect the baby. Always.”

  My throat tightened a little, but I just reached down and ran a hand through his hair. “I know you will.”

  Elias stayed curled up against my side, his small hand coming to rest near my bump. He didn’t say anything else, but his breathing had slowed, steady and calm like he could hear the heartbeat beneath my skin.

  Kailaa shifted closer too, leaning into Apolloh’s arm and pulling one of his hands into her lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Do you think the baby can hear us yet?” she asked.

  I looked at Apolloh, and he nodded before glancing down at my stomach. “They say babies can hear voices after a while. I think this little one knows yours already.”

  Kailaa grinned, wide and proud. “Then I’m going to tell them a story.”

  “Oh?” I raised an eyebrow. “What kind of story?”

  “A bedtime story. So they can sleep all cozy.”

  She scooted closer, pressing her lips near my belly and whispering in the tiniest voice, “Once upon a time there were two pups and a baby in a belly. And the baby was magic and sweet and very loved. The end.”

  I blinked quickly, trying to hold onto the lump in my throat.

  “That’s a really good story,” I whispered, brushing a hand down her back.

  Elias sat up again, clearly not to be outdone. “I’m gonna tell a story too. But mine’s gonna have dragons.”

  I gave Apolloh a look and he smirked, already settling back against the pillows like he was preparing for a show.

  Elias cleared his throat dramatically. “Once upon a time, the baby was actually a dragon in disguise. And they breathed fire, but only the fun kind that didn’t hurt anyone.”

  “The baby is a dragon now?” I asked, grinning.

  “A good dragon,” he insisted. “One that protected the whole family.”

  Apolloh let out a soft laugh, pulling Kailaa gently into his lap as she giggled. “So we’ve got a sparkling, snuggling, fire-breathing baby who’s already a hero.”

  “Exactly,” Elias said with complete sincerity.

  I leaned back against the pillows, resting a hand over my bump again, the laughter still lingering in the air. There was something magical in the way this morning stretched out—no rush, no plans, just this little moment in time where everything was safe and simple.

  “I think they’re going to love you both so much,” I said quietly.

  “We love them already,” Kailaa whispered.

  I reached for Apolloh’s hand, threading my fingers through his. He squeezed gently, and the warmth of it settled in my chest like a second heartbeat.

  Eventually, the soft hum of the morning gave way to the gentle pull of the day waiting outside our door. Apolloh stretched, still lounging against the pillows, then leaned over to press a kiss to the top of my head.

  “We should get moving,” he said, voice low and warm. “Zia and Jaxe will be waiting.”

  I let out a small sigh but nodded, sitting up a little straighter. “Alright, you two,” I said, looking at Kailaa and Elias, who had both made themselves perfectly comfortable in the blankets. “Time to get up. We’ve got plans.”

  “Plans?” Elias perked up instantly, his head popping out from beneath the blanket like a pup out of a den. “What kind of plans?”

  “The fun kind,” Apolloh said, already on his feet and tugging on his boots. “Zia and Jaxe thought we could all go out for the day. Fresh air, maybe some games. You in?”

  Kailaa scrambled up without hesitation, already reaching for her shoes. “Yes!”

  Elias jumped down from the bed. “Can I race Jaxe again?”

  “If he agrees,” I said, grabbing a light shawl and slipping it around my shoulders. “Just don’t challenge him to a tree-climbing contest this time.”

  Elias grinned. “No promises.”

  Once we were all ready, we stepped out into the warm morning sun. The air was bright and fresh, filled with the quiet hum of birdsong and the distant laughter of other pack members going about their own peaceful routines.

  Zia and Jaxe were already waiting by the outer gate, leaning casually against the wooden frame. Zia spotted us first and gave a wave, her usual smirk softened by the easy pace of the day. Jaxe, beside her, straightened with a grin the moment he saw the pups.

  “Well, well,” he said, crouching as Kailaa and Elias rushed over. “Took you long enough!”

  “We were telling stories,” Kailaa said proudly, wrapping her arms around his waist in a quick hug.

  “Oh yeah?” Zia asked, stepping forward and nudging me gently with her elbow. “Anything good?”

  “Sparkle, Snuggle, Thunderclaw, and a dragon-baby,” I said with a grin.

  Zia snorted. “Sounds like we’ve got a whole legend forming already.”

  Apolloh slid an arm around my waist. “We figured it was time the kids helped us with the name list.”

  Jaxe gave a dramatic gasp. “Wait—we’re not on the name list? No Jaxion the Brave? No Zialina the Great?”

  Elias burst into giggles. “That’s not a real name!”

  “It could be!” Zia said, hand on her chest. “I think it’s perfect.”

  “Alright,” I said, laughing. “Let’s get going before this turns into a naming war.”

  With that, we headed out together, the six of us walking side by side beneath the trees. The pups ran ahead, chasing birds and making up games as they went, while the rest of us followed at an easy pace, smiles lingering, hearts light.

  The forest greeted us like an old friend—its canopy dappled sunlight over the path, the air thick with the scent of pine and spring blossoms. The pups raced ahead, their laughter echoing through the trees as they dodged roots and leapt over patches of wildflowers.

  Apolloh kept a watchful eye on them, but even he couldn’t help smiling as Elias attempted to climb a stump twice his height, only to immediately tumble backward into a pile of moss. He popped up unharmed, triumphant, and Zia gave him a dramatic round of applause.

  I walked with one hand resting on my bump, the other loosely curled around Apolloh’s. The path curved gently, leading us deeper into the woods where the trees thinned just enough to reveal a sunlit clearing ahead.

  “This looks perfect,” I said, already imagining us stretched out on the grass.

  Zia nodded. “I brought food.” She gestured toward the small satchel slung over her back. “Not that I cooked any of it, but Jaxe swore it’s edible.”

  “Excuse me,” Jaxe said, mock-offended. “I cut all the bread slices the same thickness. That’s skill.”

  We settled in on the soft grass beneath the open sky. The clearing buzzed gently with bees and the occasional rustle of the trees. Kailaa helped Zia unpack the food—fresh bread, fruit, nuts, and little wrapped bundles of cheese and meat. Elias immediately grabbed two pieces of fruit and offered one to Apolloh, who accepted it with a wink.

  As we ate, the pups flopped down beside us, munching between mouthfuls of questions and stories.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “After this,” Kailaa said between bites, “can we play the feather game again?”

  “Feather game?” Apolloh asked.

  Jaxe pulled a bright, fluffy feather from his pocket like it was treasure. “One rule: no hands. You have to keep it in the air using anything else. Paws, faces, wind powers—whatever works.”

  “I don’t have wind powers,” Elias said, squinting suspiciously.

  “Neither do I,” I said. “Guess we’re at a disadvantage.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Jaxe grinned. “Zia loses every time.”

  “I let you win,” she muttered, already plucking a second feather from the bag.

  And just like that, the clearing became a flurry of motion and laughter. The feathers bobbed and floated, everyone scrambling to keep theirs aloft. Kailaa used her nose. Elias jumped wildly beneath his, nearly tripping over a log. Zia tried to cheat by blowing on hers, and Jaxe ended up with his feather stuck to his forehead.

  Apolloh glanced at me mid-game, his feather long forgotten as he watched me laugh so hard I had to sit down again. “You okay?”

  “Perfect,” I said, resting a hand on my belly, catching my breath. “This is exactly what I needed.”

  He smiled and knelt beside me, brushing a leaf from my hair before planting a soft kiss against my cheek.

  The game continued around us, wild and messy and full of joy. For a little while, time slowed, stretching like the sunlight across the clearing—warm, easy, and full of everything that mattered.

  ———

  Eventually, the feathers drifted to the ground, and the laughter faded into that peaceful kind of quiet that only comes after the best kind of play. Kailaa was lying on her back in the grass, her arms spread wide as she watched the clouds roll overhead. Elias had flopped down beside Jaxe, using his leg as a pillow while he gnawed on a leftover apple.

  Zia stretched out with her hands behind her head, one knee bent and bouncing slightly. “I’d call that a win,” she said, closing her eyes to the breeze.

  “You say that like you didn’t knock your feather into a tree,” Jaxe muttered, chuckling.

  She opened one eye. “Strategic sacrifice.”

  Apolloh had settled behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist, chin resting lightly on my shoulder. The rhythm of his breathing matched mine, slow and steady. I leaned into him, letting the world fall away for a few blissful minutes.

  The sun was warm against my face, the earth solid beneath me, and the steady heartbeat just under my palm reminded me why these moments mattered so much.

  “You know,” I murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, “I think this might be one of my favorite days.”

  “Same,” he said, pressing a kiss behind my ear. “No pressure. No running. Just… this.”

  Kailaa sat up suddenly and looked at us. “Can we do this again tomorrow?”

  “Maybe not the exact same,” I said with a smile, “but we’ll do something just as fun.”

  Elias rolled onto his stomach, propping his chin on his hands. “Can we bring the baby next time?”

  I blinked, caught off guard by the question—knowing what he meant.

  “Yeah,” I said softly. “The baby will be with us,” I say, putting a hand on my bump.

  “Good,” he said, as if that settled it. “They need to see the feather game.”

  We stayed a while longer. No one rushed to pack up or head back. The pups chased butterflies for a while, then settled into drawing shapes in the dirt with sticks. Zia dozed off briefly with her hat tilted over her face. Jaxe watched her with a soft smile that he probably didn’t realize anyone could see.

  Eventually, as the sun dipped lower, Apolloh nudged my shoulder. “Think it’s time?”

  “Yeah,” I said, though I didn’t really want to move. “Let’s head back.”

  We gathered our things, slow and unhurried. The walk home was quieter than the one out—tired legs and full hearts made for a mellow return. Elias held Jaxe’s hand this time, and Kailaa walked between Zia and me, humming softly to herself as the forest closed gently behind us.

  And through it all, I felt the quiet stir of life beneath my skin—our little one, still and peaceful, as if they too had spent the day soaking up all the love we had to give.

  By the time we reached the fortress again, the sun had begun to dip low, casting a golden glow across the stone walls. The pups were dragging their feet just a little—worn out but happy—and Zia looked like she was seriously considering asking if it was too early for bed.

  Inside, the dining hall was quiet, save for the soft clink of cutlery and the low murmur of conversation from a few early diners. We claimed a table near the corner, one of the long wooden ones tucked beneath the soft flicker of lanternlight.

  Dinner was simple—warm soup, baked root vegetables, and a crusty loaf of bread none of us had the energy to slice properly. Kailaa insisted on helping anyway, even if the pieces she handed out were more like torn chunks than slices.

  Elias, already halfway through his soup, paused mid-bite. “What if we named the baby Pebble?”

  Zia choked on her water.

  Apolloh blinked. “Pebble?”

  “Yeah,” Elias said, grinning. “It’s small, round, and we found a cool one on the way back.”

  “I love it,” Jaxe said, fully serious. “Baby Pebble.”

  “I’m vetoing Pebble,” I laughed, nudging my bowl closer.

  “Alright, alright,” Kailaa said, wiping her mouth. “What about Liora? It means light.”

  We all went still for a moment. That one… lingered in the air.

  “Liora,” I repeated softly. “That’s beautiful.”

  Apolloh nodded slowly. “Definitely adding that to the list.”

  “I like Riven too,” Elias said. “You said that one before, right?”

  “I did,” I smiled. “Still one of our favorites.”

  “Okay, okay,” Jaxe leaned forward like he was about to announce a war plan. “Listen. Hear me out: Zephyr.”

  Zia groaned. “You just like names that sound dramatic.”

  “Zephyr is classy!” Jaxe insisted. “Airy, mysterious. It’s got flair.”

  “It sounds like a wind spirit,” Kailaa whispered, eyes wide.

  “Exactly,” he said proudly. “We’re raising a legend.”

  “Auren,” Apolloh offered. “That one’s stayed with me.”

  “I still like Elara,” I said, glancing around the table. “It just feels soft.”

  Kailaa nodded with approval. “Elara’s really pretty.”

  “Oh! What about Caelum?” Elias said, mispronouncing it slightly but grinning anyway. “It sounds important.”

  I gave him a thumbs-up. “It means sky.”

  Zia leaned back in her chair, looking up at the high ceiling. “This baby’s got more names than anyone I know.”

  “We’ll narrow it down eventually,” Apolloh chuckled.

  “Maybe,” I said, resting a hand on my belly. “Or maybe we just keep letting them roll in. I kind of like hearing what they come up with.”

  Kailaa reached across the table, placing her hand gently next to mine. “Whatever the name is, they’re gonna be perfect.”

  That quiet, easy warmth settled in again. The kind that came not from food or firelight, but from being surrounded by the right people in the right moment.

  And in that moment, with our plates half-finished and laughter still echoing softly through the room, I knew this was the kind of evening we’d all remember.

  ———

  The halls were quiet by the time we returned to our room. The pups had barely made it through the bath without dozing off—Kailaa had actually fallen asleep halfway through getting dried off, and Elias had mumbled something about Zephyr riding a cloud into battle before nodding off completely.

  Now, with both of them tucked into the small adjoining room and the door cracked just slightly, I sank onto the edge of our bed, one hand resting over my belly.

  Apolloh joined me a moment later, kneeling in front of me, his hands coming to rest on either side of my hips.

  “Long day,” he murmured, his thumb gently brushing over my knee.

  “The best kind,” I said, sliding my fingers into his hair. “I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”

  He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the spot just beneath my hand. “They’re going to be so loved.”

  “They already are,” I whispered, my voice catching slightly. “Kailaa and Elias… they’re going to be amazing.”

  Apolloh shifted, resting his cheek against my bump. “Did you hear all those names?” he said, smiling softly. “They were so serious about it.”

  “Even the dramatic ones.”

  “I still can’t believe Jaxe said Zephyr with a straight face.”

  “You can’t pretend you didn’t like it a little.”

  He laughed quietly. “Maybe a little.”

  We stayed like that for a while—him kneeling at my feet, me carding my fingers through his hair, the room dim and quiet, lit only by the soft glow of the lantern near the window. The baby shifted gently beneath my hand, and Apolloh’s eyes flicked up to meet mine.

  “I think they liked the name Liora.”

  I nodded slowly. “I felt that too.”

  He rose up then, kissing me—gentle and slow—before pulling me into bed with him. We curled close, the kind of close you only find at the end of a good day, wrapped up in warmth and each other.

  Outside, the night deepened, and inside, our world felt perfectly still.

  Morning light spilled across the room in soft golden streaks, warming the stone floor and wrapping everything in a quiet hush. I stirred before the others, my body still tucked into Apolloh’s, his arm heavy around my waist and his breath slow and steady against the back of my neck.

  For a moment, I stayed there—listening. Not just to the comforting rhythm of his breathing, but to the subtle hum of peace that had settled over everything. No rush. No weight. Just the lull of a new day beginning.

  A soft shuffle came from the adjoining room. I didn’t move, not yet, but I smiled when I heard Kailaa’s whisper.

  “Elias… you awake?”

  A muffled grunt answered her.

  “Do you think they named the baby yet?”

  Another pause, and then a sleep-thickened, “I hope it’s Liora. That one sounded like a moon.”

  I bit back a laugh.

  Apolloh’s voice rumbled low behind me, just above a whisper. “They’re talking about names again?”

  “Mhm.” I turned my head slightly to look at him. His eyes were still half-closed, his smile lazy. “They never stop.”

  He reached forward and pressed a kiss to my shoulder, then rested his head back down. “Can’t blame them. I still haven’t made up my mind.”

  “We’ve got time,” I said, fingers brushing lightly through his hair. “A little.”

  The pups padded in a minute later, barefoot and blinking through the morning light. Kailaa climbed onto the bed without asking, curling herself into the blankets at my side like she belonged there. Elias hesitated just long enough to pretend he was too cool for it, then joined on Apolloh’s side, flopping dramatically over his chest.

  “This is the baby’s spot,” he mumbled.

  “Is it?” Apolloh asked, pretending to sound offended. “I thought it was mine.”

  “Nope. Baby’s,” Elias said, poking Apolloh’s arm. “You can scoot over.”

  Apolloh groaned and shifted, making a big show of being ousted from his own bed. “Already replaced.”

  “You’ll survive,” I whispered, smiling as Elias settled in, content.

  We laid there a while longer, all tangled together beneath the soft morning hush. No duties. No disruptions. Just the quiet stretch of early light and the occasional sleepy name suggestion.

  “What about Lyra?” Kailaa asked, eyes barely open. “It sounds like stars.”

  “Or Kael,” Elias offered. “That one’s cool. Sharp.”

  “We’re going to have to put all these on a wall just to keep track,” I teased.

  Apolloh sighed dramatically. “A wall of names… next to the wall of art, and the wall of pinecones Elias keeps hiding under the table.”

  “That’s my collection,” Elias grumbled. “It’s important.”

  “I’m sure it is,” I said softly, pressing a kiss to his curls.

  The light grew brighter, but the world stayed slow. Cozy. Easy. A gentle start to another gentle day.

  After a slow breakfast—and a second round of name debates over slices of honeyed toast—the morning melted gently into late morning. Sunlight streamed in through the high windows, catching the dust motes in a golden glow as I guided Kailaa and Elias down the hallway toward the kitchen.

  Apolloh had gone ahead to ask about helping with the bread for the midday meal, but it was really just an excuse to sneak some dough for Elias to poke. I knew it. He knew I knew it. We didn’t talk about it.

  Zia was already there when we arrived, leaning against the counter with a mug of something warm in hand. She looked far too awake.

  “Early birds,” she teased, ruffling Elias’s hair as he walked past.

  “I smelled bread,” he said, like that was a full explanation.

  Jaxe had flour on his cheek and a bowl of something suspiciously sticky in front of him. “We’re making rolls. And possibly a mess.”

  “Mostly a mess,” Apolloh said from the other side of the counter, sleeves already pushed up.

  Kailaa gasped. “Can we help?”

  “Yes,” Zia and Jaxe said at the same time.

  “No,” the kitchen steward said flatly, not even looking up from where he was kneading.

  Zia grinned, finishing her drink. “We’ll be very responsible.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Jaxe muttered, flicking a bit of dough at her.

  I leaned back against the counter and watched them fall into the chaos—Kailaa carefully pressing dough into awkward, lumpy circles; Elias trying to make a braid that kept unraveling; Apolloh laughing while flour bloomed across his chest like battle scars. Zia tried to sneak cinnamon into the recipe when no one was looking. Jaxe caught her and did it anyway.

  I didn’t lift a finger, and no one asked me to. I just stood there, hands folded over my belly, soaking it in.

  This. This is what I wanted them to remember. Not the war, not the tension, not the weight of the world that sometimes threatened to crash in through the door. Just this—messy, flour-covered, cinnamon-scented joy.

  Eventually, the kitchen steward gave up entirely and went on break, muttering something about “young people and chaos.” I wasn’t sure if he meant us or the kids.

  By noon, the rolls were uneven but edible. We sat around the wide wooden table near the hearth, eating warm bread with honey and butter, faces glowing from the oven heat and the firelight.

  Kailaa had honey on her nose. Elias had somehow acquired a second roll before anyone else noticed.

  “This is the best one,” he announced, holding it up like a trophy.

  “It’s slightly burned,” Zia pointed out.

  “That’s how I like it.”

  Apolloh met my eyes across the table. He looked so relaxed, so deeply content, that it made something in me ache in the best way.

  “Still think we’re ready for this?” I asked softly.

  He reached across the table, brushing his fingers over mine. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

  After the baking adventure (and cleanup that involved more laughing than actual cleaning), we all made our way back to our part of the fortress. The sun had begun to lower, streaking the sky in hues of apricot and rose. It painted everything with a softness that made even the stone halls feel a little more like home.

  Kailaa and Elias had a sudden burst of energy that defied all logic after the day we’d had.

  “Catch me if you can!” Elias shouted, darting ahead, bare feet tapping over the smooth floor.

  Kailaa squealed and bolted after him, nearly colliding with a stunned guard who wisely stepped aside and said nothing.

  “Hey! Careful!” Apolloh called, clearly trying not to laugh. “If one of you breaks something—”

  “You’ll chase us too?” Elias called back.

  “I might.”

  I watched them round the corner, their laughter echoing back to us as they vanished out of sight.

  “They’re going to come back when they realize they don’t know where they’re going,” I murmured, leaning into Apolloh’s side.

  “Mmhm.” He wrapped an arm around my waist, warm and strong. “We’ll just wait.”

  Sure enough, thirty seconds later, two small figures reappeared, slightly out of breath and trying to look like they hadn’t just gotten completely lost.

  “We were exploring,” Kailaa insisted.

  “Bet the baby’s gonna want to race too,” Elias added, already climbing onto the couch like it was a jungle gym.

  “I hope they’re slower,” I said with a laugh, sinking onto the cushions beside him.

  “I’ll teach them,” Apolloh said proudly.

  “Oh no.”

  “Yes.”

  ?

  Later, after the sun dipped below the horizon and the pups were scrubbed clean and tucked into bed with full bellies and glowing cheeks, I found myself curled against Apolloh again in the quiet of our room.

  The air smelled faintly of flour and lavender. Somewhere nearby, the night birds were singing low.

  “I’ve never seen them this happy,” I whispered.

  “They feel safe,” he said, brushing a hand over my back. “We all do.”

  I rested my head against his chest, eyes fluttering closed. “Do you think the baby knows yet? That they’re surrounded by love?”

  He was quiet for a moment, then he placed his hand gently over mine, where it rested on my belly.

  “I think they feel it,” he said softly. “Every bit of it.”

  And just like that, the quiet wrapped around us again—thick and warm and full of everything that mattered.

  ~~~

  The days slipped by like petals on the wind—soft, quiet, and filled with the kind of warmth that settles deep in your chest. We didn’t rush anything. There was no need. Mornings started slow, afternoons were spent in the sun-dappled courtyards or gathered around the hearth, and evenings ended in laughter and crumbs on the floor.

  By the fourth day, even I couldn’t deny how much I’d grown.

  My bump had rounded out noticeably, a curve that now met my hands without effort when I rested them against my stomach. It stretched beneath my shirts in a way that made even the looser ones cling, and I’d caught Apolloh staring more than once—always with that same soft awe in his eyes.

  He didn’t hide it either.

  “Bigger today,” he murmured, kissing the top of my belly as I tried to fold laundry. “Definitely bigger.”

  “That’s what happens when you keep feeding me honey rolls,” I teased, gently bumping his shoulder with mine.

  “The baby likes them.”

  “Convenient excuse.”

  Kailaa had started drawing little pictures of the baby now—stick figures with oversized heads and hearts floating around them. Elias asked at least twice a day if the baby could hear him yet, then proceeded to shout directly at my stomach just in case.

  Zia had noticed too.

  “You’re glowing,” she said one afternoon as we walked through the garden paths. “And before you say it’s just sweat from hauling that belly around—don’t. It’s different.”

  I gave her a look. “It’s also a little sweat.”

  She grinned and bumped her shoulder into mine. “Still glowing.”

  Everything felt settled. Safe. The air was warm, the fortress quiet, and the baby growing steadily with each passing day.

  ———

  I’d only managed to fold half the laundry today before I had to sit back down.

  It wasn’t that I was out of breath—not exactly. But the baby had decided today was a good day to press right against my ribs, and no amount of shifting could convince them otherwise.

  I lowered myself onto the nearby bench with a quiet sigh, watching as Apolloh stepped in without missing a beat. He didn’t say anything at first, just scooped up the loose pile of linen and resumed folding with a precision that felt almost suspicious.

  “…You’re doing that too perfectly,” I murmured, eyeing the straight edges. “No one folds towels like that unless they’re trying to prove something.”

  “I fold like a man who has had to dig through wrinkled sheets at three in the morning because someone”—he glanced at me with mock offense—“doesn’t believe in organizing by size.”

  I gasped, hand to my chest. “You take that back.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Queen of the Chaos Stack?”

  “Better than Lord of the Linen Wrinkles.”

  From the doorway, a little voice piped in. “What are linen wrinkles?”

  Kailaa wandered in, dragging a too-long blanket behind her and blinking like she’d just woken up from a nap she insisted she wasn’t taking.

  “They’re mythical creatures,” Apolloh said immediately. “They live in closets and make towels uneven when you’re not looking.”

  Kailaa’s eyes widened. “Like gremlins?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Oh no,” she whispered dramatically, glancing down at the blanket she’d just dropped. “I knew it wasn’t my fault.”

  I laughed, and the sound felt like sunlight.

  Elias followed her in moments later, already mid-story about a bug he’d found outside and how it had “definitely waved” at him before flying off. He stopped when he saw me on the bench.

  “Are you okay?”

  I smiled and reached for his hand. “I’m good. The baby’s just being a little… pushy today.”

  He leaned in close and whispered near my stomach. “Hey. Go easy on her, okay? She’s nice.”

  Apolloh choked on a laugh behind the pile of towels.

  “I’ll tell them you said that,” I whispered back.

  The rest of the afternoon passed slowly, sweetly—Apolloh folding, the pups sprawled across the floor building blanket forts, and me watching it all from the bench with my feet up and my heart full.

  Dinner was simple tonight—roasted vegetables, soft rolls still warm from earlier, and a stew that filled the room with savory comfort. The table was surrounded by that familiar, sleepy kind of energy that came after a day well spent.

  Kailaa had a flower tucked behind one ear, courtesy of Zia. Elias had a napkin folded like a triangle on his head for reasons only he understood. Jaxe was attempting to balance a spoon on his nose. Again.

  I leaned back in my chair, one hand cradling the swell of my belly, the other curled around a mug of broth. Apolloh sat beside me, arm slung easily behind my chair, his thumb brushing softly over my shoulder. His eyes kept flicking down to my bump—still fascinated, still in awe.

  “We need more names,” Kailaa announced between bites of bread. “Good ones.”

  “We’ve already said, like, twenty,” Elias protested.

  “But we haven’t picked the one.”

  Zia set down her mug. “Alright, alright. Let’s hear what’s left in the tank.”

  “Okay,” Elias said, puffing up proudly. “What about… Shadowstorm.”

  Apolloh blinked. “That sounds like the name of a villain.”

  Kailaa scrunched her nose. “Or a dragon.”

  “…Maybe for a middle name?” I offered diplomatically.

  “Okay, what about Pebble?” Kailaa grinned.

  “No,” I said, laughing.

  “That one is strictly for rocks and turtles,” Apolloh added with a grin.

  “All right,” Zia said, wiping her mouth. “What are some serious ones?”

  Kailaa perked up. “Liora. I still like Liora.”

  “Me too,” I said softly.

  Jaxe leaned forward, counting off on his fingers. “We’ve got Liora, Elara, Alira…”

  “Lyra,” Kailaa added. “And Elowen!”

  “For boys…” Apolloh glanced at me. “We had Riven, Caelan, Auren…”

  “Zephyr,” Elias said proudly. “Like the wind!”

  “And Caelum,” I added. “I still love that one.”

  “I have a new one,” Kailaa whispered, leaning in like it was a secret. “Nova.”

  Everyone fell quiet for a moment.

  “…That’s beautiful,” I said gently.

  Elias nodded, suddenly serious. “Like a star.”

  Zia smiled over her mug. “You two might be better at this than the grown-ups.”

  “Well yeah,” Elias said, chewing the last bite of his roll. “We already love them.”

  My heart felt like it had melted clean through my ribs. I glanced at Apolloh, and the look in his eyes told me he felt it too—every word, every silly name, every promise wrapped in laughter and crumbs and candlelight.

  ———

  After the dishes were cleared and the last crumbs had been swiped off the table (mostly by Jaxe, who claimed it was “honorable work”), we all settled in the sitting area with full bellies and tired smiles.

  The fire crackled low in the hearth, throwing soft shadows across the room, and a stack of pillows made a makeshift circle around the rug. I curled into mine, grateful for the support as I eased back and shifted until the baby found a more agreeable position.

  “Let’s play a game,” Kailaa said, her voice already laced with excitement.

  Elias perked up instantly. “Ooooh! What kind?”

  “Nothing that involves running,” I warned with a playful look at both of them.

  “Or shouting,” Apolloh added.

  Jaxe flopped dramatically onto a pillow. “What does that leave?”

  Zia grinned. “Something with brains. Like ‘Guess the Word.’”

  “Oh! Yes!” Kailaa clapped. “You pick a word and we ask yes or no questions!”

  Elias narrowed his eyes. “And you can’t lie.”

  “Scout’s honor,” Apolloh said, hand on his heart.

  We all agreed to the rules—simple, silly, and easy enough that no one had to leave their spot. I went first.

  “All right,” I said, picking a word in my head. “I’ve got one.”

  “Is it a food?” Elias asked immediately.

  “Nope.”

  “An animal?” Zia guessed.

  “No.”

  “Is it… a person?” Kailaa leaned in close, like that would help.

  “Kind of,” I said, smiling.

  “That’s a yes,” Apolloh clarified, grinning at me.

  “Is it someone in this room?” Jaxe asked.

  “Yes.”

  They all went still. Elias squinted at everyone. “Is it me?”

  “Nope.”

  “Is it Daddy?” Kailaa asked, turning toward Apolloh.

  “Nope.”

  “Wait.” Zia sat up straighter. “Is it… the baby?”

  I smiled. “Yes.”

  Everyone laughed, even Jaxe, who threw a pillow at no one in particular and muttered, “Should’ve guessed.”

  “I knew it,” Kailaa said proudly. “The baby’s gonna be famous in this game.”

  Round after round passed, sometimes silly (Elias once chose “pickles” and tried to keep a straight face the whole time), sometimes sweet (Kailaa’s was “hugs”), and sometimes slightly chaotic (Jaxe tried to use “Zia’s secrets” which didn’t go over well).

  Eventually, the guesses grew slower, the laughter softer, and Elias started leaning into Apolloh’s side without even realizing it.

  I watched them all with the kind of tired joy that sat deep in my bones. The fire was low now, the room humming with the last bits of the day.

  “Alright,” Apolloh said, voice soft. “Time for bed, game masters.”

  Kailaa groaned but didn’t protest, not when I opened my arms and she happily crawled into them, laying her head gently on my belly like it was the most natural place in the world.

  The halls were dim and quiet, lit only by the low flicker of torches lining the stone walls. Apolloh carried Elias, already snoring against his shoulder, while Kailaa held my hand, swaying a little with each sleepy step.

  We settled them easily—Elias barely stirred as Apolloh laid him down, and Kailaa’s eyes had already fluttered shut before her head touched the pillow. I smoothed a curl from her forehead, then leaned down to kiss her crown.

  “Sleep well, little heart.”

  Back in our room, the warmth from earlier still lingered, woven into the blankets and tucked into the walls. I eased onto the edge of the bed, letting out a long breath as I placed both hands over my bump. The baby shifted, just a flutter, just enough to say I’m here.

  Apolloh sat beside me a moment later, his hand sliding gently over mine. His fingers traced the curve of my stomach with reverence, like he still couldn’t quite believe it.

  “They’re growing so fast,” I whispered.

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” he murmured, voice soft as dusk. “Feels like it was just a few weeks ago that we were finding out. Now look at you.”

  I turned slightly, resting my head against his shoulder. “I keep catching myself staring down and thinking, you’re really in there. And I can’t wait to meet them—but I also just… love this. This stage. This little pocket of time.”

  He kissed my hair and tucked me closer.

  “I love it too,” he said quietly. “The stillness. The waiting. You.”

  I felt his hand move again, this time resting fully across the swell of our child, and I covered it with my own. The room was silent, save for the slow rhythm of our breathing.

  “You think they heard all those names?” I asked after a beat.

  “I hope not,” he said, grinning. “Otherwise we’re going to end up with a kid named Shadowstorm Pebble.”

  I snorted, trying not to laugh too loud. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

  He shifted to face me more fully then, his eyes dark and soft in the low light. “Laika.”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m so happy it’s you. This life, this baby… all of it. I wouldn’t want it with anyone else.”

  Something swelled in my throat, warm and tender. I leaned in, pressed my forehead to his, and whispered, “Me too.”

  The kiss that followed wasn’t rushed or deep—it was slow and lingering, a quiet promise wrapped in breath and warmth. When we finally pulled back, the baby kicked gently, as if joining in.

  Apolloh rested his forehead against my belly, murmuring, “We’ve got you, little one. Always.”

  We curled into each other soon after, the weight of the day settling behind us like a blanket. The firelight danced on the walls until it too faded, and we drifted into sleep—together, safe, and surrounded by love.

  ~~~

  The next few days passed like a dream we didn’t want to wake from.

  Morning light filtered through the windows slow and golden, and each day seemed to begin with soft voices, quiet laughter, and the comforting shuffle of bare feet on warm floors. I’d taken to sleeping a little longer, something Apolloh fully encouraged with whispered promises to handle breakfast while I rested.

  The bump had grown more defined—rounder, fuller, visible beneath even my loose clothing. The pups were fascinated. Elias in particular had taken it upon himself to “guard the baby” during meals, making sure I had the softest seat, the best slice of bread, and no fewer than three refills of tea.

  “You’ve got the important job now,” he’d say solemnly every morning, placing his hand over my belly like he was passing along some ancient blessing.

  Kailaa had taken a more creative approach. She spent hours drawing little pictures she said were “what the baby might look like.” Some had wings. One had three eyes. One looked suspiciously like Jaxe.

  “They’ll probably grow out of the extra eyes,” she’d assured me.

  Apolloh had laughed so hard he nearly dropped a plate.

  We spent our afternoons in sun-drenched corners of the fortress—playing quiet games, napping in blankets, and basking in the rare, precious stillness. No one knocked. No one called us away. Even Zia and Jaxe seemed to understand that these days were meant to stretch.

  I took walks when I could, hand in Apolloh’s, the pups sometimes trailing behind us like ducklings. We talked about names again, joked about what kind of personality our little one might have, and wondered aloud if they’d like apples or hate them, if they’d howl at the moon, or sleep through the night.

  “They’ll be stubborn,” I said one afternoon, squinting up at the sky.

  “Like you?” Apolloh grinned.

  “Like you,” I countered.

  We shared a kiss beneath the arching branches of a tree just starting to bloom, the air thick with promise and something sweet.

  ——

  It was late afternoon when I found Zia in the kitchen, sleeves rolled to her elbows, carefully slicing fruit for a light evening treat. The room was filled with the soft scent of honey and citrus, sunlight slanting through the windows in golden beams.

  I slipped in beside her and started folding a small stack of napkins, using the motion as an excuse to stay.

  “You ever think it’d be like this?” I asked after a moment, not looking up.

  Zia didn’t answer right away. She placed a slice of apple in a bowl, then glanced over at me with a small smile. “You mean quiet? Peaceful? Like something out of a dream?”

  I nodded, folding the last napkin into a neat triangle. “Yeah. Like… safe.”

  She leaned against the counter, arms crossed loosely over her chest. “Not often. But I hoped for it. Hoped you’d have this.”

  Her voice was soft, but full of weight. Of memory. Of every battle and hardship we’d weathered to get here.

  I reached for another towel, smoothing it flat. “You think it’ll last?”

  Zia was quiet for a beat longer, then shrugged gently. “I think it’s lasting now. And that’s enough for today.”

  I looked up and met her eyes, grateful in a way I couldn’t quite put into words. She gave me a little smile and tossed an apple slice toward me, which I caught in my mouth like a champion.

  “Show off,” she muttered, but she was grinning.

  ?

  That evening, the kitchen hummed with low conversation and the sound of cutlery against plates. Apolloh had Elias in his lap, telling a dramatically slow version of the day’s walk, while Kailaa mimicked every exaggerated expression he made. Jaxe had somehow found a way to be lying across two chairs at once, and Zia passed out little bowls of honeyed fruit.

  I leaned back with my hand resting gently on my belly, feeling the soft curve beneath my palm as our little one moved again—just a tiny nudge this time, like they were rolling over in a dream.

  “What if they have Jaxe’s appetite?” Apolloh teased, nudging a slice of pear into Elias’s mouth mid-yawn.

  Jaxe smirked. “Then you better start saving now.”

  “I’m not the one who had seconds of fruit,” Zia chimed in.

  “Fruit doesn’t count!” Jaxe protested, mouth half-full.

  Kailaa giggled, then turned toward me. “What if the baby likes bananas but hates apples? What would we do?”

  “Raise them anyway,” I said with mock seriousness. “Even if they reject the sacred apple.”

  “We’ll just love them harder,” Apolloh added, brushing a hand over my shoulder.

  Elias reached for my hand then, placing it over the curve of my belly. “You hear that in there? We got you covered.”

  My heart did that soft, aching swell again, and I didn’t fight it. Didn’t blink away the warmth in my chest or the little sting behind my eyes. The baby shifted under our hands, and the room stilled for a heartbeat—just one quiet second that held everything.

  All of us together. Safe. Full. Whole.

  The fire crackled low, casting soft golden light across the stone walls, and the night carried that quiet hush only found when everyone you love is safe and close. Dinner had long since ended, the bowls and laughter fading into calm, but no one was in a rush to leave the warmth of the room.

  Kailaa was curled up beside Zia, half-listening to her hum a quiet tune while braiding tiny strands of her hair. Elias had drifted into sleep curled under Apolloh’s arm, the rise and fall of his little body in sync with each of Apolloh’s slow breaths.

  Jaxe had somehow shifted from his double-chair sprawl to lying on the rug with one arm over his eyes like the world had worn him out. “I’m not sleeping,” he murmured, voice muffled. “Just testing gravity.”

  I snorted softly as I leaned my head against Apolloh’s shoulder. “It’s working.”

  He chuckled, his hand moving in lazy circles along my back, and the baby kicked once, then settled again.

  “They’re always more active at night,” I whispered.

  “Maybe they just know it’s safe now,” he replied, voice low and warm in my ear. “That the day’s done and everyone’s right here.”

  We stayed like that for a long while, all of us sharing the same breath, the same warmth, the same quiet peace that had become more precious than anything else in the world. Eventually, Kailaa fell asleep against Zia, who smoothed her hand over her hair and nodded toward us in silent understanding. She’d stay with the pups tonight.

  Apolloh and I made our way quietly back to our room. I moved slower now, and he never rushed me—not once. He just walked beside me with that soft look he always saved for when we were alone. Like I was the only thing he saw.

  Once we were inside, he helped me change into one of his softer shirts—one that stretched comfortably over my bump now—and we climbed into bed, the chill of the night forgotten beneath layered blankets and the warmth of his arms.

  Lying there with his hand resting protectively over our baby, he whispered, “Do you think they’ll be more like you or me?”

  I smiled, eyes already half-closed. “A little of both, I hope. And a whole lot of themselves.”

  “Then we’re already lucky,” he said.

  Sleep came easily after that.

  I floated somewhere in between, suspended in warmth and quiet, the world outside muted like snowfall behind glass. I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming, but I felt the baby—more than just movement, more than just a kick. It was a presence. Soft. Steady. Familiar.

  In the hush of that in-between place, I imagined holding them for the first time. Their tiny fingers curling instinctively around mine. The way Apolloh would look at them—like he already knew them. Like he always had.

  I thought of names, the ones we’d collected like treasures over the past days. Nova. Liora. Zephyr. Caelan. Names that felt like stardust and sunlight and quiet strength. I didn’t know who our child would become, but I knew they’d be loved fiercely. Entirely. Already were.

  Somewhere in that haze, I thought of the life we’d built—the fortress that had become a home, the friends who’d become family, the peace that had once felt so far away now resting at our feet. I remembered the pain too, the weight of what we’d lost. But tonight… it felt far off. Not forgotten, but softened. Like the kind of story you tell in low voices, long after the wounds have healed.

  A soft sound pulled me closer to waking—a quiet exhale, Apolloh’s breath brushing the back of my neck. His arm tightened around me, grounding me again in the present.

  And just before the light broke through the windows, I whispered—maybe aloud, maybe not—We’re ready for you, little one.

  ?

  The first morning light spilled through the windows in lazy golden stripes, warming the edge of the blankets as I blinked my eyes open. Apolloh was still asleep, one hand resting over the round of my belly like he’d never moved through the night. I stayed there a while, listening to his even breathing, letting the quiet wrap around me like a second layer of warmth.

  Eventually, I slipped out of bed and stretched, my hands instinctively finding the curve of my bump—larger now, firm and unmistakable beneath the fabric of Apolloh’s shirt. The weight was familiar. Comforting. Like I was never alone, even in stillness.

  A few quiet knocks at the door later, and I opened it to find Kailaa holding a tray of food with Elias standing beside her, both of them looking proud.

  “We made breakfast,” Kailaa declared.

  “Daddy helped with the cooking,” Elias added, “but we made it look good.”

  I stepped aside to let them in, smiling as they set the tray down with dramatic care. Toast. Sliced apples. A little bowl of honey. And a note in Kailaa’s handwriting: For Mommy and the baby. (And Daddy when he wakes up again.)

  ?

  The next few days flowed like a painting in soft, blended colors—each one a brushstroke of calm.

  There were picnics in the courtyard with Jaxe balancing grapes on his nose while the pups laughed until they couldn’t breathe. There were walks along the outer gardens where Zia plucked blooming flowers and wove them into simple crowns. There were quiet afternoons in the library, Kailaa reading aloud from an adventure book while Elias dozed against Apolloh’s side.

  The baby moved more now—gentle flutters turning into solid nudges. Every time, one of the pups would gasp or giggle, pressing their palms to my belly like they were trying to feel every bit of the growing life inside.

  We painted one afternoon—Kailaa and Elias making messy, beautiful chaos on scraps of parchment. Apolloh joined in with a surprisingly elegant sketch of a wolf under moonlight, while I sat with my feet up and a brush in hand, painting soft strokes of blue and gold across an empty sky. Jaxe claimed his “abstract masterpiece” was worth at least three goats. Zia offered him one carrot and half a potato.

  Evenings were slow and sweet. Games that didn’t require much movement—card matching, quiet guessing games, stories made up one sentence at a time. I’d lean into Apolloh while the pups tucked themselves into their spots nearby, and the room always ended in laughter. Or soft snores.

  ———

  The sky outside the windows had gone deep indigo, stars blinking into place one by one as if they knew we were watching.

  Dinner had ended in candlelight and warm, sticky hands from too much honeyed bread. The pups were sprawled across a nest of pillows, limbs tangled, soft snores mingling in the quiet. Jaxe had offered to carry them to their rooms but fell asleep halfway through sitting up. Zia draped a blanket over him without a word.

  I leaned back against Apolloh, nestled into the curve of his chest with a content sigh. His arms held me like they always did—protective, present, reverent. One hand rested on the curve of my belly, thumb brushing over the fabric in slow, grounding circles.

  “They kicked when you laughed,” I murmured.

  “Then I’m never stopping,” he said softly, kissing the top of my head.

  I looked down at the gentle rise of my stomach, now fuller and firmer than it had been just days ago. “They’re growing fast.”

  “You both are,” he whispered. “And you’re beautiful. You know that, right?”

  I smiled, tired but full. “Only when you say it like that.”

  He chuckled, low and soft in my ear. “Then I’ll keep saying it.”

  The fire crackled faintly in the hearth as we sat there, surrounded by the quiet hum of home and warmth and the breathing of those we loved most. I closed my eyes, letting his heartbeat lull me, and just before sleep pulled me under, I felt another nudge from the baby—gentle, rhythmic, almost like a whisper of “I’m here.”

  ———

  Sunlight filtered in slow and golden, dust dancing in its path. I blinked awake to the sound of birdsong—soft, distant, like a promise. Apolloh was already up, his side of the bed still warm. A faint hum drifted from the next room, along with the smell of something baking. The pups, probably. Or Jaxe, pretending not to sneak bites.

  I sat up, stretching slowly, my hand finding the curve of my bump out of habit. It felt heavier now, more settled. Like our baby had found their rhythm in the safety we’d built. I breathed in deep and smiled.

  Outside the window, the sky stretched clear and wide, brighter than it had been the day before. Something about the air felt different—not sharp or sudden, but subtle. Like the shift between seasons. Like the world was slowly turning its face toward something new.

  I dressed with ease, moving slower these days, but not struggling. My body had adjusted, settled. Apolloh met me in the hallway, brushing a kiss to my temple like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Sleep well?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, lacing my fingers through his. “Really well.”

  Downstairs, Kailaa was already naming the breakfast she made: “Sunrise Toast.” Elias argued it should’ve been “Magic Crunch.” Jaxe declared it “Crunchrise Magic Toast,” which made them both laugh until they forgot what they were even arguing about.

  Zia raised an eyebrow at me from across the table. “They’ve been up for an hour.”

  “I’m terrified,” I said, and we both laughed.

  But underneath the warmth of that morning, beneath the tea and toast and lazy yawns, I could feel it—a faint stirring. Not trouble, not yet. Just change. Quiet, steady, inevitable.

  And still, as Apolloh brushed his fingers across my back and the pups argued about syrup, I held onto the peace. Let it root itself a little deeper.

  Because whatever came next… we were ready.