(Euryale's POV)
The house felt different the moment I woke up. Quieter, like the wind had paused to listen. The sky outside our window was a soft blue, the kind that made the day feel like it mattered—even before anyone said it out loud.
Silas was still asleep, sprawled across the bed with one arm flopped over my stomach and the other clutching his stuffed goose like it was his most loyal knight. I carefully moved his arm and slid out of bed, tiptoeing across the floor. Footsteps, a whisper, water being poured—and then…
A cry.
Not loud. Not wild. Just small and soft—like the mewl of a kitten.
I froze. My heart skipped. Had I imagined it?
Then Pa stepped into the room, eyes glimmering. "She's here," he whispered, almost like the words themselves were sacred. "The baby."
She.
A sister.
I didn't wait. Bare feet thudded against the floor as I ran to the front room. Ma was lying back in bed, her hair damp and sticking to her forehead, eyes glowing even through exhaustion. In her arms, wrapped in a faded green cloth, was the tiniest human I had ever seen.
I knelt beside Ma, my hands trembling. I didn't speak. I couldn't.
She had wisps of black hair, a button nose, and fingers curled into fists so small they made my pinky feel like a tree trunk. I reached out slowly, and the moment my pinky touched hers, she wrapped her tiny hand around it.
The whole world melted.
"Want to hold her?" Ma whispered, voice soft but proud.
I nodded, careful not to make sudden moves. Pa helped guide her into my arms. She weighed almost nothing, but it felt like I was holding the entire universe.
Her eyes fluttered open for a single, perfect instant. They were the color of wet earth after a summer rain. I couldn't stop staring.
Minutes later, Silas barged in, hair sticking every which way, still half-asleep. "Is that it?" he asked, peering over the edge of the bed. "That's the baby?"
"Yes," Ma said softly. "Her name is Lyra. She's your sister."
Silas tilted his head. "She's… kind of small."
"She'll grow."
"Can I poke her?"
"No."
He pouted dramatically but climbed onto the bed anyway, resting his head on Ma's shoulder. "Okay… she's kinda cute," he murmured, voice softening.
The rest of the day felt like a dream. Neighbors brought over steaming bowls of soup, bread wrapped in cloth, and tiny gifts. Tex had sent sweet fruit jelly, scribbled with "For the brave mama," and Pa proudly told anyone who would listen about how calm Ma had been and how strong she'd fought through it. Silas repeated Lyra's name over and over, as though saying it made her more real.
And me? I couldn't stop watching her.
She slept most of the day. Little sounds came from her—soft sighs, squeaky snores, hiccups that made her frown—and each one made my chest swell. I stayed close, even when I washed Silas's sticky hands for the third time or helped Pa chop vegetables.
It felt like something had clicked into place.
That night, after Lyra had fed and Ma had finally drifted off, I sat outside with Pa under the stars. The fire crackled low, and the world felt impossibly wide.
"You're the oldest now," he said, glancing at me with that quiet pride that always made my stomach tingle. "How's that feel?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "It feels… good. I want to help more."
"You already do."
We sat in silence, listening to the whisper of wind in the trees.
"I think she's going to be the loud one," I said thoughtfully.
"Like Silas?" Pa chuckled.
"Louder," I said, imagining a tiny whirlwind in green cloth.
Pa laughed. "Good. Someone has to keep you two in check."
I smiled, thinking of Lyra's tiny hand curling around my finger, so fragile and yet so fierce.
Back inside, Silas was already snoring into his goose. I crept into the bedroom and peeked into the cradle Pa had built weeks ago. Lyra was fast asleep, her chest rising and falling like a leaf on water.
I knelt beside the cradle, resting my head on the edge. "Hi," I whispered. "I'm your big brother. My name's Euryale."
She stirred just a little.
"I'll protect you," I promised softly. "I swear it."
Her tiny lips curved into something that almost looked like a smile.
And even though she was too little to understand, I knew deep in my heart that she'd heard me.