It was a deceptively calm morning.
The skies above the sanctuary stretched open and blue, the distant sea gleaming like polished obsidian in the sun. Somewhere in the village square, music played—a soft, soothing rhythm from a bone flute and drum. A blessing for crops, for healing. The world pretended peace, but everyone was watching the skies.
Aurora had taken Esperanza for a walk among the other children of the sanctuary, if only to give Elena and Niegal a moment of quiet. Her eyes were rimmed in red, misted from the war council the night before. She hadn't slept. Few had.
But Esperanza had laughed. And it was that laughter, bright as summer rain, that gave her courage.
The toddler, now nearly 21 months, was radiant in her joy, dark curls wild, cheeks full of mischief. She clutched her favorite doll, a hand-stitched rag version of her mother with stormy eyes and a little stitched peony on the chest. She knew it was made by Elena's hands. She kissed it often.
And then it happened.
One of the other children, slightly older, snatched it from her and cried, "This is mine!"
There was a silence, a beat too long, and then:
Color shifted.
Esperanza's eyes, wide and wet with confusion, bled slowly into glowing violet and green, twin stormlights burning like distant galaxies.
The air around her shimmered with energy.
Tiny hands trembled, but not from fear. The grass beneath her feet browned and withered in a circle. Her breath fogged in the summer heat. Wind stirred without source.
Aurora saw it all in the span of a heartbeat. She didn't think—only moved.
"Here, here, it's okay! Mira, Esperanza, mira, mira- your dolly is here, it's okay, mija…" she whispered, gently retrieving the doll from the frightened child and placing it back in the toddler's waiting hands.
The light in Esperanza's eyes flickered, then blinked out.
But the wind did not stop.
Aurora grabbed her up and ran.
Elena and Niegal were in the middle of cleaning the kitchen together, preparing to close it down before they left for battle. Cottage windows thrown open to the breeze, the scent of soap and citrus filling the room. She was sweeping. He was scrubbing the old hearth. They moved in sync, practiced, content in their quiet roles. Every movement was softened by love. Elena hummed under her breath.
They didn't hear Aurora's frantic footsteps until the door slammed open.
Aurora stood there breathless, hair wind-tossed, eyes wild.
In her arms, Esperanza sobbed, her doll clutched to her chest.
Sparks of green still shimmered at her fingertips.
Elena's broom clattered to the floor.
Niegal turned, instincts snapping to attention. One hand on Marohu's hilt. The other reaching out to steady Aurora.
"Her magic…" he breathed, eyes narrowing as he stared at the faint glow along his daughter's skin. "It's back."
The lion stirred within him, purring, pleased. But he wasn't. Not like this.
Elena moved first.
She didn't hesitate. She reached out and gathered Esperanza into her arms, whispering, "Calmate, calmate, mija… it's okay… mami and papi are here… shhh, shhh."
She rocked her gently, pressing kiss after kiss to her curls and cheeks and tiny brow.
The air in the cottage calmed.
The glow dimmed.
The storm receded.
Aurora pressed her face to Niegal's shoulder, whispering, "I think it was never gone. Just… sleeping. Waiting."
Niegal let out a hoarse laugh, dark and bitter. "She's her mother's daughter, that's for damn sure."
Niegal watched them, hand flexing against his chest. He could feel the serpent now, deep within his wife, coiled and content. The presence pulsed outward in gentle waves. And something else—subtle, warm.
Life.
Elena's other hand rested over her womb. It wasn't showing yet, but something within responded.
They all felt it.
Esperanza lifted her head from her mother's shoulder, lip still trembling.
"Papiiii?"
His knees went weak.
He stepped forward and took her gently from Elena, kissing her cheeks, murmuring reassurances even as his chest tightened with unspoken fear.
Elena kept a hand on their daughter's back, soothing her, her other still over her belly, until Esperanza's little hand reached out… and touched her mother's belly.
The room stopped breathing.
Esperanza's glowing eyes looked up at her parents.
"Brother is happy, mami."
The doll slipped from her hand. No one picked it up.
Elena's mouth opened, forming the word in a gasp. She hadn't even thought of it before. Hadn't dared.
Niegal's face paled. His voice was barely a whisper. "Brother…?"
Aurora shook her head. "It's too soon to know that, right? Right?"
No one answered.
The house held its breath.
Esperanza giggled. The power retreated from her like mist pulled by morning light. She curled into her father's shoulder and hummed softly.
Elena and Niegal met eyes, ancient fear and awe passing between them like lightning.
She had barely survived the first vesselhood.
Now this?
And Esperanza, who shouldn't be able to know these things, was waking up in power stronger than most adults.
The snake stirred, pleased. The lion stretched in the warmth of growing legacy.
And for the first time, Elena wondered not just what she had brought into the world…
…but who.