The day had arrived, the air thick with anticipation. Aeris had been feeling the heavy weight of her pregnancy for weeks, but now, the moment had finally come. The time for her to bring their child into the world was drawing near.
And then, one evening, as the first cool breeze of spring whispered through the open windows, Aeris's body stiffened as a sharp pain seized her abdomen.
Kaelen's heart skipped a beat. "Aeris?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.
Aeris's breaths grew heavier, her body tensing as the contractions started. Kaelen could feel the panic rising within him as he helped her move to their bed, her hand gripping his tightly.
She gave him a strained smile, but the sweat on her brow told him everything he needed to know. "It's starting," she whispered, her voice breathless, the first signs of labor setting in.
Mara, who had been staying close by to help with the birth, stepped forward from where she had been preparing herbs and supplies. The midwife and experienced healer, she remained calm in the face of Aeris's pain. "Breathe, Aeris," Mara said softly, her voice steady and reassuring. "Focus on your breathing.
Aeris nodded, her face pale with the effort, but she was thankful for Mara's presence. The tension in the room was palpable, but Mara's steady hands and calming words gave her the strength to keep going.
As the contractions grew more intense, Kaelen's anxiety began to spike. He stayed by Aeris's side, wiping her brow, holding her hand, offering soft words of encouragement. "You're doing great, Aeris. Just breathe. I'm right here with you."
Aeris clenched her teeth, trying to remain calm. Her face contorted with pain, but she stayed focused, determined not to show any weakness. Mara had taught her how to breathe through the pain, and she was using every bit of that wisdom now.
Minutes turned to hours, and still, the labor dragged on. Kaelen could see Aeris's exhaustion creeping in, her body trembling with each wave of pain. And yet, she pressed on, determined to bring their child into the world. He could feel his heart racing in his chest as the reality of what was happening settled in.
Mara, seeing how close Aeris was to the breaking point, spoke up again. "Aeris, I know it's hard, but the end is near. You've got this, my dear."
Aeris nodded through clenched teeth, glancing at Mara for reassurance. She needed it. Kaelen's eyes were filled with worry, and she could see how badly he wanted to help but felt helpless.
The hours dragged, each contraction more intense than the last. Kaelen had his face inches from hers now, his voice soft but insistent, urging her to keep going. "You're almost there, love. Just one more push, and we'll meet our baby."
Aeris let out a final, anguished cry, her body trembling as the baby began to emerge. Kaelen held her hand tight, his heart in his throat. And then, with one final push, the baby let out a small but powerful cry, filling the room with its presence.
"It's a girl," Mara said with a soft smile, taking the baby from Aeris and quickly wrapping her in a warm cloth. Kaelen's knees nearly gave out from the rush of relief, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
Aeris collapsed back onto the bed, exhausted but smiling. "We did it," she whispered, her voice hoarse. She reached out for the baby, and Mara gently placed their newborn daughter in her arms.
Kaelen leaned over, his heart swelling with emotion as he gazed at the tiny face. "She's beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with tears. "She's perfect."
Aeris, though tired beyond belief, smiled with all the love she had in her heart. She held the baby close, her eyes filling with tears of joy. "Welcome to the world, little one," she murmured.
Mara watched quietly from the side, her expression softening as she observed the family—her friends—complete. The labor had been difficult, but they had made it through together. Aeris, Kaelen, and their newborn daughter.
And with a sigh of relief, Kaelen finally felt the weight of his worry lift, his heart at peace for the first time in days.
The twins, hearing the baby's cries, waited just outside the door, their eyes wide with anticipation. They exchanged excited glances, their eagerness almost tangible, as they stood quietly, not wanting to interrupt. After a few moments, Mara stepped outside, a gentle smile on her face.
"She's here," Mara said softly, her voice warm with a hint of excitement. "You can meet her now."
Liam and Evan rushed forward, their eyes sparkling with wonder as they looked up at Mara, eager to see their new sister.
"Is she really here?" Liam asked, his voice barely able to contain his excitement.
"Yes, come in," Mara said, stepping aside to let them enter.
Liam and Evan rushed forward, their eyes sparkling as they looked at the tiny girl in their father's arms.
"She's so small!" Evan exclaimed.
Liam, his voice barely above a whisper, said, "She's perfect."
Mara smiled at the sight of the siblings meeting their new sister.
The baby girl, nestled in her mother's arms, was a vision of delicate beauty. Her skin was pale, as white as freshly fallen snow, contrasting perfectly with her dark, jet-black hair that framed her tiny face like a silken curtain. A soft, natural glow seemed to emanate from her, as though she were bathed in the gentle light of the stars.
Her most striking feature were her eyes—grey, but sparkling like the finest pearls, glistening with an inner light that could captivate anyone who gazed into them. They shimmered with the faintest hints of silver, as though reflecting the light of the moon, and seemed to hold the mysteries of the night sky within them.
Between her delicate eyebrows was a small mole, like a tiny beauty mark, adding a unique charm to her already perfect face. Her cheeks were rosy, as if kissed by a soft breeze, and her lips, a subtle shade of red, were as soft and inviting as the petals of a flower. She looked like she had stepped out of a dream—like a precious gem, a star made flesh, or a pearl, with her quiet radiance.
Kaelen, gazing down at his newborn daughter, felt a sense of awe wash over him. He had seen many wonders in his life, but nothing could compare to the pure, fragile beauty of this little girl in his arms. As he looked at her, his heart swelled with love.
"I think we'll name her Pearline," Kaelen said softly, his voice filled with reverence. "Like a pearl, rare and perfect. She's as precious as the stars in the sky and as brilliant as the finest crystal."
Aeris smiled, her heart overflowing with warmth. She could feel the truth in Kaelen's words.
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A few days passed, and Mara dropped by to check on both Aeris and the newborn. The house was quiet, save for the soft sounds of Pearline's content coos as she nursed in her mother's arms. Kaelen stood by the window, watching the peaceful scene, but there was still an undercurrent of concern in his eyes. He greeted Mara with a warm, but tired smile as she entered.
"How are you both doing?" Mara asked, her gaze quickly shifting between Aeris and the newborn.
"We're doing alright," Aeris replied, though the exhaustion from late nights and frequent feedings was evident in her voice. "Pearline's growing strong, and I'm starting to feel better, too."
Mara nodded thoughtfully, moving closer to examine Aeris and Pearline. After a quick look over, she met Aeris's gaze. "Everything seems to be in order, physically. But there's something important we need to talk about."
Aeris, sensing the change in Mara's tone, straightened slightly. "What is it?"
Mara hesitated for a moment before speaking. "It's about your diet while you're breastfeeding."
Aeris blinked, waiting for Mara to continue. "What about it?"
"The truth is," Mara began, her voice turning more serious, "as long as you're breastfeeding Pearline, you cannot eat meat. It will cause problems for her—issues we can't yet fully understand. Pearline's body won't be able to process meat, not even when she's older."
The air seemed to grow heavier, the weight of Mara's words settling in the room. Kaelen furrowed his brow, his voice tense. "What do you mean? Why can't she eat meat? Is it dangerous for her?"
Mara's gaze softened, but her expression remained firm. "I'm not sure why exactly, but Pearline's body just can't handle it. There are some children born with sensitivities that we can't always predict, and for her, meat is one of those things. If you eat it while breastfeeding, it could harm her. It might cause digestive problems or other complications we're not prepared for."
Aeris's hand instinctively tightened around Pearline, her gaze shifting down to the little one in her arms. "So... she'll never be able to eat meat? Not even when she's older?"
Mara nodded slowly. "It's likely she won't be able to ever. For now, we have to take precautions. I know it's not easy, but you'll need to avoid meat entirely while you're breastfeeding her. It's the safest course of action."
Kaelen stepped forward, his voice soft but firm. "We'll manage, Aeris. We'll make sure Pearline gets everything she needs."
Aeris nodded, her mind racing with the weight of Mara's words. "I'll do whatever it takes," she whispered, her heart full of love and concern for her daughter.
Mara gave them both a reassuring look. "I'm sure you'll both be just fine. I'll continue to monitor Pearline closely, but for now, focus on keeping her healthy and strong. You're doing a great job."
With a final nod, Mara left the room, leaving Aeris and Kaelen to process the new challenge ahead. The silence in the room felt heavy, but in the midst of it, Aeris held Pearline a little tighter, determined to do whatever was necessary for her daughter.
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The days passed, and soon Pearlin was three years old. Her growth was rapid, her personality blossoming, and her powers becoming more evident with each passing day. She was a curious mix of both her mother and her father, strong like a Selus, with an unyielding spirit, but there was something more—an undercurrent of magic that flowed through her veins, inherited from Kaelen.
As she grew, the signs of her hybrid nature became undeniable. Pearlin's strength was already apparent in the way she played, her movements graceful yet full of power. She could lift small objects with ease and run as fast as the wind, a testament to her Selus blood. Yet, there were also traces of Kaelen's magic within her—small flickers of light in her eyes when she was excited, or the way she could make flowers bloom with a mere touch when she was in a good mood.
Although Pearlin carried both her parents' gifts, she didn't inherit her father's elf-like ears.
The most noticeable change, though, was in her hair. Once jet-black, Pearlin's hair was now turning a soft pink at the bottom, like the delicate hue of a sunset. This, too, was common among children with magic in their blood—their features would often shift or change as they grew, something that was both natural and expected.
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Time had flown by, and just like that, Pearline's fourth birthday arrived.
As promised, Kaelen took her to the city for the first time. She'd been dreaming of it ever since she overheard the twins talking about their father's old stories—of busy streets, glowing lamps, and things she couldn't even imagine growing up in the forest.
The city was overwhelming at first. Noise, color, and movement crashed over her like a wave. Cobblestone roads buzzed with people: vendors shouting prices, carts creaking past with fresh bread and fabrics, children weaving between grown-ups with sticky fingers and wide eyes. The air smelled of roasted chestnuts, smoke, damp stone, and spice—strange and exciting.
Yet even amidst the color and life, there was an unspoken weight to everything. Armored guards stood on nearly every corner, their expressions stern. The banners hanging above had faded from sun and ash—evidence that peace in this world was always fragile.
Kaelen held Pearline's hand tighter as they walked through the heart of the market, his eyes scanning constantly, alert.
Pearline, though cautious, was captivated. She pointed to strange animals in cages, puppets dancing with strings, and stalls that sold glowing crystals and music boxes. But something else caught her eye—something small and quietly beautiful.
On the edge of a narrow street, an old woman sat beside a wooden trolley cart with creaky wheels and a patchy awning barely shielding her from the sun. Her cart was filled with small trinkets—worn books, mismatched jewelry, dried herbs tied with string. Nothing extravagant.
But resting on a faded velvet cloth, nestled between a chipped comb and a rusted ring, was a single silver earring. It was shaped like an hourglass, with golden dust sealed inside the glass, gently swirling every time the wind blew. Simple, but mesmerizing.
Pearline stopped, her eyes fixed on it.
Kaelen followed her gaze. "That one?"
She nodded silently.
The old woman glanced up with kind, cloudy eyes. "You've got good taste, little bird. That one's special. Been with me a long while. It's one of a kind."
"How much?" Kaelen asked, already knowing it might be more than he wanted to hear.
The woman gave him a number—not outrageous, but for a single trinket, it was still steep. They weren't rich. Everything they had came from hard work in the woods—what they grew, built, or hunted themselves.
Kaelen looked down at his daughter. Her expression wasn't demanding, just quietly full of wonder. She hadn't even asked for it.
He reached into his pouch, fingers brushing over the coins inside. "I wish I could give her more... but this, at least, I can do."
He handed over the coins without hesitation.
As the old woman wrapped the earring in soft cloth, Kaelen knelt and handed it to Pearline. "Happy birthday, my little star."
Pearline's eyes lit up. She clutched the bundle to her chest and leaned in to hug him tight. "Thank you, Daddy."
That moment alone would've made the entire trip worth it.
But just as they turned to head back toward the outer gate, Kaelen slowed—then stopped completely.
Something in the air shifted.
Down a narrow alley, just off the edge of the bustling street, was a small crowd. Not shoppers. Onlookers. And in the center, a man stood with a chain in one hand and a rough sign in the other.
Kaelen's eyes darkened.
The sign read: "Unclaimed. Three gold. Strong bones."
And beside him, trembling and silent, stood a girl. No older than three. Her face was smudged with dirt, her lips cracked, eyes wide and hollow. A fraying rope was tied around her wrist, looped loosely like a leash. She didn't cry. She didn't speak. Just stared.
Some passersby glanced and kept walking. Others watched, some curious, some indifferent. None intervened.
Pearline looked up at her father, confused. "Why's she standing there like that? What are they doing?"
Kaelen was unable to speak.
How could he?
How could he explain this to his daughter—that what they were witnessing was slavery?
That the world she had just begun to explore was already steeped in injustice? That innocence was not something everyone got to keep?
His throat tightened. He stared at the little girl—dusty, silent, forgotten. A child. Not an object. Not a transaction.
Just then, voices carried behind him—ragged, loud, and laced with cruel laughter.
Two figures stood near the alley's entrance, both covered in dirt and wearing little more than patched rags. Their skin was sunburnt and their faces worn by hardship. They leaned against the wall, watching the scene unfold with bitter amusement.
Person 1:
"This son of a bitch... ha! Look at him now. Finally lost it."
He cackled as he gestured at the man holding the chain.
Person 2:
"Ugh... don't tell me he's actually selling her. His own daughter? Like, seriously? That scum never treated her like a real person anyway."
They spat to the side, a tired sigh following.
"She's better off anywhere but with him."
Kaelen's blood turned to ice.
His daughter.
That man wasn't selling some war orphaned stranger. He was selling his own child.