Eila's head felt strangely light, a dull fog threading its way behind her eyes. It had been only a few days since they had returned from closing both rifts, and the exhaustion—physical and mental—hadn't quite left her. Today, however, she had no time to dwell on it.
It was the triplets' birthday.
She had been planning the party for the evening since morning, determined to make it perfect. Meera had gently suggested she rest, assuring her that her mother and Emma could handle the preparations, but Eila shook her head and kept moving. She needed to be busy—stillness meant thinking, and thinking meant remembering. Her mind was already a scattered mess.
The pack around her seemed to glow with relief. The danger, at least for now, had passed. There were smiles, laughter, and a renewed energy in the air. But Eila felt none of it. Neither did her mates. The warning about the third rift's opening hung over them like a shadow, stretching far longer than the comfort of their recent victory.
Leonard had quietly doubled the patrols, his orders absolute. Nina, weary but uncomplaining, traveled the borders every day, weaving new layers into the protection spells. The Alpha and Luna were conducting thorough inspections throughout the pack territory, speaking to guards, healers, and families. The warriors were on high alert, while the Gamma's forces worked tirelessly to secure the pack's most densely populated areas.
Everyone was working without pause to safeguard their own.
Eila tried to keep up with her training at the infirmary, but her focus wavered. More than once, she caught herself lost in thought, only to be snapped back to the present by a scolding from her instructor. And so, when she finally came home, she dove headfirst into the kitchen. Cooking. Baking. Preparing every detail for the evening until her siblings began trickling back from their daily activities.
By the time the triplets returned, they were covered in the day's dust and grime, faces flushed from the outside air. They disappeared briefly to wash up, and when they emerged, the small house was already alive with warmth.
Everyone was there—everyone except Michael.
The birthday celebration was intimate, but filled with love. Three small cakes, lovingly baked by their mother, sat in the center of the table. The triplets' eyes sparkled when Eila presented her gift: three necklaces, each embedded with protective spells Nina had crafted for her. Trouble seemed to follow them, and she intended for these charms to follow them in turn.
Meera's gift was three handmade tunics, each stitched with patient care. Emma had knitted mufflers, their names embroidered neatly into the fabric. Erick offered them finely crafted arrows, made by his own skilled hands. The youngest children shyly presented plates of cookies they had baked with their father, while Michael's gift—a set of much-needed practice shoes—had arrived earlier that day.
One by one, they leaned in to kiss the triplets' foreheads, murmuring blessings for a long and happy life. The boys tried to laugh it off, but their voices wavered; they were nearly in tears from the sheer outpouring of affection.
Their mother stepped forward last, drawing all three of them into a tight embrace. The moment held, warm and unshaken, until someone finally pulled away to serve the meal.
Dinner was hearty, filled with clinking utensils and bursts of laughter. And when the evening finally wound down, the triplets went to bed smiling, their new gifts close by.
Eila lay in her own bed, her cheeks still aching from the unrestrained grin she wore. The day had been exactly what she'd hoped for—memories worth keeping for a lifetime.
Her eyelids had just closed when a voice, deep and familiar, slid into her mind.
"Eila."
It was Leonard, his tone calm but edged with something she couldn't quite name.
"May I come in? From your window."
Her breath caught.