Verse 1
Birth Of A Devil
1
Year May X912
Location: Raonach
Simon was three and a half years old, and like any child, his head was full of questions. He always wondered what the world was like outside of town, what kind of people were out there
Were they kind?
Tall?
Did they have a sense of Humour like his father, or maybe quiet and stoic like his older brother? Life in Caladh was simple.
He'd wake up early and follow his brother around, much to his dismay. He'd eat lunch with his father during his break, then get read at night.
The town was safe and secure, sitting in the middle of the Grasslands. It was a human settlement, boring but secure
His father often told stories about People who had animal ears and fur but spoke the human tongue. He was told about the people who lived under the sea and how some were born with "innate abilities."
At night, he'd stare at the ceiling and wonder where his mother had gone.
I was meeting all of these unique and extraordinary people. He wondered if he'd ever get to meet her again..
But he couldn't let those thoughts bother him. He was a man, after all.
That's what his father always said.
Life with his father and older brother wasn't so bad.
The Croft was small, made of stone walls and thatched heather roofs, with only one room. They slept, ate, and cooked all within arm's reach of each other. The hearth was at the center and their only source of heat, and there was one bed.
The three shared, which was a battle every night due to their father begging a wild sleeper; Once he even rolled over and nearly smothered Simon in his sleep, Izkeial had to roll Him off of him. Izkeial was a decent older brother. At just ten years old, he was basically a second parent. He could skin a hare in record time, patch the roof when it leaked. He was also quite the cook leagues above his father.
Simon even refuses to eat his dad's cooking.
Izkial attended school in a small one-room building in town from time to time when he could. Sometimes Simon would follow and tag along, but he'd get bored easily and daydream. He didn't have many friends and disliked going outside alone, and preferred to stay indoors. However,
Simon loved stories,
especially the ones his father read to him, like The Tale of Liam and Isan, which he hated and loved. Life was simple, it was easy, it was joyful,
and one he wouldn't trade for the world.
"Big brother, will you practice with me today?"
Simon said with wide eyes that he was carrying a wooden sword around, one he had gotten for his third birthday.
"Not today, I have. To do my own sword practice, I don't have time to play with you. Ask your father to play with you."
"You always say later, or maybe next time, and you never have time for me! "It's not playing its practice! You're so Malignant. Big brother"
"Malignant? Where did you learn such a word?"
, Simon didn't answer, he turned on his heel and ran away towards the shopping district
He tried his best not to be the annoying little brother as best he could, but sometimes he could t help himself. He felt as if his ig brother disliked him at times, he never really had one time with him, and he always seemed like his actions and presence bothered him.
Still, Simon looked up to Izkeial. He was tall, handsome, and good with a sword at the age of just ten. He was also popular with the girls, but he wasn't a skirt chaser like his father.
Simon sat by a fountain in the town's square/ He watched as families walked. Fathers and daughters, sons and mothers… Siblings chasing each other.
Simon was always told by his father he had his mother's hair, those dark magenta curly locks. Played with it and huffed
. He wondered what it was like to have a mother, to have a woman in his life who would love him unconditionally, no matter how old he gets, or how far he strays off the beaten path in life. Having someone to go home to who makes you sweets and kisses you good night, Simon wondered these things from time to time.
"No No"
He shook his head. A man doesn't think such things, a man doesn't get upset over relationships he doesn't even have. He had his father and Izekial. He didn't need more than that to be happy. At least, that's what the young boy told himself.
"Hey, hey, Simon, you okay?" a young voice rang out
Simon looked up and saw a young girl's face, she had blonde hair and pigtails with green eyes, she was three years older than him.
"Oh, hi Sariah," he hopped off, sitting on the fountain
"You're all pouty again, you get into a fight with your big brother again?" she spoke with a funny little accent, one you could tell she worked on a farm
"No-no…"
He looked away
" I know that look, and your lying isn't ya?" She placed a hand on her hips, "and let me guess you ran away like a baby, didn't ya?"
"..."
"See, I knew it! You can't just run away from family like that just because you don't get your way."
"You don't know big brother…. He.. doesn't even acknowledge me, let alone like me… I'm just a bother to him and my father."
CHOP
"Ow, what was that for?" he held his head. You're being all silly, like ya know? Of course, your father and big brother love you; never think they don't. Your father is a guard, so he's always protecting everyone, even you! And don't get me started on Izkeial he-"
"Sariah, time to come home," a woman's voice rang out.
"Oh, sorry, Simon, guess I'll catch you later," she started to run off, "and don't forget what I said, She waved and ran to her mother, holding her hand.
"They care, huh…" he dusted off his clothes, "Alright, this time big brother and father will have to take me more seriously! We're family after all, nothing can tear us apart.. Right?
And so Simon trotted off back home, determined to apologize to his brother. Because family stays together, through thick and thin, no matter what happens… they'll always be there for each other.
But when he stepped inside, his heart froze.
His brother stood over their father, who was on his hands and knees.
"Tch. You worthless old man."
"I'm sorry!" their father pleaded, voice cracking.
Simon immediately forgot everything he was told.
2
Izekiel stood above his old man, clicking his tongue in annoyance, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Looking at his father like a disappointed parent
Izekial stood above his old man, clicking his tongue in annoyance, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, looking at his father like a disappointed parent.
"It's not like I knew this would happen! The likelihood was low, so…"
"So you didn't take precautions? Just what example are you setting for your sons?"
"Father's home early…" Simon said as we walked into the scene.
"Father has been up to no good. Take heed not to follow in his footsteps—he's a womanizing degenerate."
"EH? Cooome on, Izzy, it's not that big of a deal!" their father pleaded.
"I say having a child is a great big deal, Father."
"A… chi-ld?" Simon repeated in a small voice.
Then he yawned.
Then his eyes widened.
"AM I GONNA BE A BIG BROTHER?!"
"Eh—potentially. We still don't—"
"Gah!"
It was too late. Simon had already tackled his father.
"Haha, I'm gonna be a big brother."
"Yeah, you are."
Their father tossed him up in the air.
"These two…" Izekial sighed, pinching his nose. "I'm the only logical one left in this family…"
"I hope I don't scare away the new mommy," he muttered.
His father put a hand on his head. "You never scared anyone away. You know that, right?"
"…"
"You hear me, son?"
"Yes, Father…" He pulled Simon close to his chest.
"What's she like, Father?" Simon asked.
"Err… well yeah, you'll like her. She's really pretty and kind. She also has a nice pair of—ow ow ow, don't pull on my ear, Izzy!"
"Have some class, Father."
Their father rubbed his ear.
"When do we get to meet said woman?" Izekial asked, arms crossed.
"Funny story, son!" He sat up.
"We're gonna move to her village!"
"…Huh?" Simon and Izekial blinked.
Izekial pinched his nose. "What will you do for work, Father? How do you expect to take care of two more people on your salary, especially a newborn?"
"It'll work out. I'll take more shifts at the gates and guardhouse. I have a feeling I've got a nice new promotion coming up," he grinned.
"I don't like that smile, Father. You look quite shady."
"It's not! I swear," he said, standing up and dusting off his clothes.
"How do we know this isn't your only other child? Or is it just the first one that demands something out of you, and now you're being trapped?"
"It's not like that, Izzzy! I'm usually… safe. (For the most part)," he muttered. "But this time I thought we were good. The chances were extremely low."
"How low, Father…"
"About one in a million…" he said in a small voice.
Izekial's eye twitched. "You, impossible man. What kinda odds are those? What is she, a different race?" he said, aloof.
"An elf, actually."
That made Simon and Izekial go "Huh" at the same time. Again.
3
Things moved quite quickly. There wasn't much to pack—they were dead broke—but it was still somber leaving the Croft behind.
The walk to the village wasn't far, but they still took a wagon. It was the first time he saw outside the walls. The grasslands were vast and beautiful, painted in gold and green, rolling on and on for what seemed like forever, as far as his eye could see.
The horse-drawn wagon trotted along. There were rolling hills, and animals like dotted deer and other strange creatures pranced around. Whatever he didn't know, he asked his father.
"What's that?" he would ask.
And his father would say, "That's an elk."
The world beyond his tiny shack was full of color and life.
"Oh, oh! What's that—what's that?" he shouted, eyes full of wonder.
Bright, small lights danced around the wagon, floating like fireflies.
"I thought fireflies only appeared at night…"
"Hey, don't confuse me with those insects."
A tiny voice rang out, and a little winged person crossed their arms.
"Ah, it spoke!" Simon rushed into his father's arms.
"It's only a Fae Folk. They're harmless, though they can be very vindictive. You'd better apologize before she swaps the stuffing in your pillow with needles!"
"Ah… sorry, miss!"
"Hmph. At least you have manners."
She flew close to his cheek and gave him a small kiss.
"By the way—I'd fill his pillow with stones, not needles!"
And with that, she was gone, floating away into the tall grass.
4
The village stood in the middle of the grass plains.
"They had pointy ears!"
It was a humble place with no walls, just sitting vast and open among the tall grass. He could still see the city far behind them—so far it looked small enough to pinch between two fingers—but close enough that the Towers were still visible on the horizon.
The village itself was tight-knit, and as the wagon rolled in, the people looked curious about them. Kids played in the dirt roads, women hung laundry on lines, and the clothes they wore were unlike anything Simon had seen before.
The houses had thatch roofs and were made of stone and clay. But Simon wasn't just intrigued by the homes. It was the people.
Nine out of ten of them were beautiful in their own way—pale and fair, with white or silver hair and deep red, blood-colored eyes.
Their clothes were simple but soft-looking—woven shawls and tunics dyed in whites, greens, and tans. Simon waved at a girl, maybe a few years older than him. She waved back.
A door creaked open. Out stepped a woman with pale skin, snow-white hair, and those same blood-red eyes.
"Well, hello there. Can I help you?" she asked, smiling.
She was beautiful. Simon felt it, even if he didn't have the words for it. But she wasn't looking at him—she was staring past him with a sly grin.
"Hey there," their father chuckled.
"Oh, Finlay. You're early." She glanced down at her dress, clearly caught off guard. "I was just finishing up some organizing. These must be the boys I've heard so much about."
She knelt down to Simon's height. "My name is Kyleigh," she said with a bright but nervous smile.
Simon, however, couldn't help but stare at her belly.
Finlay ruffled his hair. "Come on, boy, introduce yourself properly."
"Ah—oh! I'm, uh... Simon. Simon Fillips!" he stammered.
"Well, nice to meet you, Simon. And you?" she asked, turning to the older boy.
"Izekial, ma'am," he said stiffly.
Kyleigh blinked. "My, Finlay, you didn't say they were so well-mannered." She giggled softly, covering her soft pink lips with her hand.
"Well, they certainly didn't get that from me," Finlay said, rubbing his neck.
"Come on in. I'll show you around. Sorry if things are a mess—I just moved into this place."
"You did?" Simon tilted his head.
"Yes. Around here, people who aren't betrothed usually live with other singles. Helps save space—and pushes marriage a little quicker." She picked up a basket of clothes.
"Let me get that for you," Finlay said, taking the basket from her hands.
"Thanks, Fin." She kissed his cheek.
Simon blushed and quickly covered his eyes.
"Oh! Sorry—I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," she laughed.
"He'll be alright," Finlay smirked. "He's just not used to seeing two people madly in love showing affection."
Simon peeked through his fingers. "Excuse me, miss... is it a boy or a girl?"
"Oh, well—we won't know until she's born," she replied sweetly.
"We could always use urine testing!" Finlay said proudly.
"That's gross. It's also just superstition," she sighed.
"But it's fifty percent accurate!" he argued, crossing his arms.
"That's because there are literally only two outcomes, Fin," she deadpanned.
Simon giggled.
"I'm only twelve weeks along anyway—even your 'method' wouldn't work," she added, shaking her head.
She turned to the boys. "The chief wants to meet you. Just a little prerequisite for moving here," she said, waving her hands. "No need to be nervous—it's just a short meeting to get to know you. I'll show you around the village too and explain some things. Doesn't that sound fun?"
She was nervous too—Simon could tell—but she was an adult. Adults were supposed to be wise.
"I wanna see! I've never seen so many pretty people before!" Simon chirped.
"You okay with that, Fin?" she asked, tilting her head.
"Yeah, I'll sort our stuff. You three go have fun—just don't overdo it. You're carrying an extra passenger, after all," he grinned.
"---"
Izekial was silent but followed them anyway.
5
The village had no fences, but somehow it still felt safe. They lacked the modernization he was used to, but everyone seemed happy.
"Wow, the houses are so colorful," Simon observed.
"Oh, why yes, that's on purpose," Kyleigh explained proudly. "Each house is painted by work."
"It's colored by occupation? Never heard of that before…"
Kyleigh blinked. "Ah, wow, so your father was right—you've got a strange vocabulary."
"Ahem, well—brown houses are for farmers, red for hunters, blue for scribes and weavers, and so on," she said as she walked.
As they strolled through the village, they got some strange stares.
"Stay close to me, Simon," Izekial said, taking his brother's hand. The stares weren't cruel… but they weren't exactly friendly either.
"So those two will be the Bloodkin to the devil-eared child?" one elf murmured as they walked past.
"Devil-eared?" Simon tilted his head.
Kyleigh kept her eyes forward, her expression unreadable.
"Don't worry about what others say. It's not important."
Simon's attention soon drifted to the largest building in the village. It was a two-story structure—unlike all the smaller, one-floor homes—and stood proudly at the center. Vivid and vibrant, it was painted with rose thorns and adorned in soft pinks, deep greens, and wine reds.
"This is the chief's house."
Out front stood several elegant elven women in flowing white attire. They gazed at the two boys.
"So these are the boys Finlay went on and on about?" one of the left said, her crimson eyes studying Izekial, then landing on Simon. "Right this way."
She held open a curtain, and inside was a room bursting with color—fabrics of every shade draped from the ceiling like streamers, and in the center sat a man, cross-legged, puffing from a pipe. He looked no older than his early thirties.
"Chief Róisín," Kyleigh began, "These are—"
"Simon and Izekial Fillips, I presume?"
And just like that, it was time for their first meeting with the Chief of the Cluaintean Neimh Cla
6
The man who was said to be the chief sat in the middle.
He had a small scar under his eye, and like the rest of the villagers, his long white hair ran down his back. He had those same blood-red eyes.
He studied the two boys, looking them up and down.
The man didn't have a beard, but if he did, he might've been stroking it right now.
"Sit, sit—make yourselves comfortable."
He ushered the two boys to sit on the floor pillows in front of the large table.
"Thank you, sir, for having us."
Izekial, polite as ever, even did a formal bow.
Kyleigh, on the other hand, was so fidgety that Chief Róisín's eyes drifted toward her.
"No need to be so tense, Kyleigh. It's not like I'm gonna use them as a sacrifice—they're far too skinny."
"!!"
That made Simon jump and look around for the nearest exit.
"I'm only joking, lad," the chief chuckled.
"Right… sorry."
Simon gave a shaky breath that passed for a laugh.
To him, cannibalism wasn't a laughing matter. His father had told him stories—about those who succumbed to such things, turning into beasts called Windegos.
"Come on, sit, sit. I wanna learn about the sons of the boy who managed to steal Kyleigh's heart."
"Boy? You mean Father? He's far too old to be called boy, don't you think?" Izekial raised his brow.
"Hmm, when you get to my age, everyone's a boy in your eyes. Hahaha!"
The two women accompanying the chief gave sideways glances at the boys. It wasn't threatening, but it made them just slightly more on edge.
"Your father's a good man. We haven't had new residents in a long time—especially none of the elvish blood. We just do a normal consultation to make sure you're a good fit for our little village. You know what they say—those who don't work, don't eat. We're a tight-knit clan. Everyone knows each other to some extent. We differ from humans. Humans are a… woven tapestry of trust."
"…"
There went those looks again—from the two women.
"Excuse me, sir, but we're already aware of such things," Izekial said calmly.
"We ourselves live in a high-trust society. We pay for our food, and we greet our neighbors. I think we'll fit in quite well here."
"…"
"Your father wasn't just boasting after all, eh? You catch on quick—and this one's got quite the vocabulary!" he smiled.
"It's just a precaution. Nothing against you boys. I think you'll do just fine here. If you've got any questions, you can always ask me… though I'm busy most days. Especially when that pesky noble family isn't pestering me."
Simon raised his arm.
"Hand?"
"Hm, a question? What is it, boy?"
"Um, well… I was wondering what 'Devil' meant."
"…"
The aura in the room shifted. Just slightly—but enough to feel it.
"…Where did you hear that?" he asked, brow raised.
"Oh, well, I heard someone say it as we passed by. Some ladies said it."
"Well… you see, humans and elves—"
Just then, Kyleigh gave a soft cough.
"I think that's enough for now. I still have some places I wanna show the boys. Y'know, show them the dos and don'ts."
The chief sighed and nodded.
"Very well then. Though Kyleigh, I hope you don't run from this forever."
"I know."
"Alright then. Be off."
The boys stood up and followed Kyleigh out of the building.
Kyleigh ruffled Simon's hair.
"Didn't I say not to worry about such things?"
"I was just curious. Why would they call a baby that?"
"What matters is what we call them. You're gonna be an older brother—they're gonna look up to you. So don't worry about names and such."
"…Alright, Miss Kyleigh."
"Eh—Kyleigh is fine."
"Kyle-igh? That's a pretty name!"
"Aaah! You're so adorable! I can't wait to—!"
She scooped him up off his feet and mushed her face against his, nuzzling and rubbing her cheek against his
7
X912 – July
Eight weeks had passed. Time moved on, and the due date was coming up fast. Life in the village was… stagnant. Kyleigh was getting bigger and less agile now that she was in her second trimester.
The eight weeks in the elf village didn't really amount to much—Simon and Izekial still frequented the town for school and shopping. Kyleigh, it turned out, was a florist. She'd grow her own flowers and sell them to the humans and trailing Mythos in town.
This is actually where Simon and Izekial came to learn how she met their father—on patrol, when their paths crossed.
Supposedly, it took a lot of trial and error asking her out before she finally said yes.
Finlay swears her charms were immaculate, so of course she'd give in.
…Of course, that earned him a swift grab by the ear and a proper scolding.
"That's not what I remember," she'd say.
During the eight weeks, Simon slowly adjusted to village life. Sure, it was better than the cramped croft he shared with his brother and father…
…but he still had to share a room with Izekial.
There were three rooms:
The first was for Kyleigh and Finlay.
The second was Simon and Izekial's room.
And the third was for the nursery.
In the village, housing was given according to occupation and family size. If you had more than five family members, you were given a bigger house than those with just three. Money did exist in the village, but things functioned more like a tight-knit community than the capitalist town Simon grew up in.
Everyone pulled their weight.
Simon was young, but he wanted to help too. His father worked both in the village and still kept his job back in town, which meant he was busier than ever. No time for skirt chasing—
—which delighted Izekial even more than Kyleigh. He knew his father too well.
Kyleigh worked as long as she could, but the back-and-forth travel was wearing on her.
She also didn't know how to treat her new stepchildren properly.
Simon and Izekial.
She didn't have siblings of her own, but she had acted like a big sister to the other kids growing up.
That was… a long time ago.
Should she scold them when they misbehaved?
Should she complain to Finlay and let him handle it?
Or… should she say nothing at all and risk them walking all over her?
These thoughts weighed on her more than she expected.
She wanted to be a good mother figure.
She liked being liked.
She'd soon find out that the two boys were actually very well-behaved—
Especially for kids raised without a mother and with a womanizer for a father.
Simon had a wide vocabulary for his age.
Izekial? He practically acted like the mom she wished she could be.
He corrected Simon's posture, his manners, and even scolded him—on the rare occasion.
They still called her Miss Kyleigh after all this time.
One thing she appreciated was Simon's curiosity.
Many adults would get tired of constant questions, but he seemed truly intrigued by elven customs.
One particular interest of his was the Bulwark Tree—a large red, curling-leaved tree in the center of the village.
It was about seventy-five feet tall.
Its roots looked like a ribcage.
Its bark was dark, and its vascular lines looked like blood vessels.
Simon didn't like it—it gave him a weird feeling—but he could tell it meant something sacred to the elves.
So he didn't want to offend by asking dumb questions.
Especially after he'd blurted out, "Why is that man's skin so dark?" months ago, and earned a death glare from Izekial.
But one day, while Kyleigh was doing laundry, she caught Simon staring at the tree.
"You must be curious," she said with a soft smile.
"Ah—well… I just… I think it looks interesting, is all."
He stammered. She raised a brow and waddled over with her basket.
"That tree there is our village's Bulwark. Or Nucleus, as some call it."
"I… don't understand."
"It's our protector, in a way. I'm sure you noticed—we don't have many guards like in town."
She adjusted the basket at her hip.
"That tree's been looking after our people for… well… hmm." She tapped a finger to her lip.
"…A long time!"
(That narrows it down.) Simon thought.
"Anyway, as long as we're family, the tree will see you as family too."
"You… consider me family?"
"!!!"
She almost dropped the laundry.
"I—well…" her ears wiggled nervously.
"'Cause I do. Or… I'd like to. And I wanna be the best big brother ever!" Simon declared.
That was all it took. She dropped the basket and embraced him.
"You're such a cutie, Si!!"
She gave him a big, wet kiss on the cheek and rubbed her face against his.
(Suffocating.) he thought.
And with that, she had won over one son.
X912 – September
Simon watched the rain fall outside the window.
Kyleigh's third trimester had begun.
And Simon was now facing the two worst enemies a child could ever know:
Waiting… and boredom.
The village had been exciting at first, sure, but he still hadn't made any friends.
He'd started attending the small classes run by Chief Róisín twice a week.
There, he'd sit down with the village kids and listen to stories or learn history.
There were only four other kids: three girls and one boy.
Simon wondered why there weren't more children in the village…
…but at least that meant he might not get picked on.
"Why are all your eyes red? It looks like blood…
…or like someone farted on your pillow."
He raised his hand and asked properly, too.
That earned a chuckle from the other boy… and a disgusted look from the girls.
Simon was nothing if not honest.
"Hm. Great question, Simon."
The Chief stroked his chin.
"That's because it is blood."
"It is??" Simon tilted his head.
"Yes. You see, for you humans, magic comes from here."
He tapped two fingers against Simon's forehead.
"…From my head?"
Chief Róisín nodded.
"Humans use their minds to create and shape magic using external mana. But elves—our magic is innate. It flows through our whole body and especially through our eyes.
When mana pulses through our veins, it blooms in the capillaries behind the eye.
The denser the flow, the deeper the color."
"…Whoa. That's… pretty cool."
"Right?"
The Chief ruffled his hair.
"You can even tell our age through our eyes. The deeper the red, the older the elf."
"I see… what kinds of red are there?"
"Adolescents – a Carmine Red. Deeper, bolder red."
"Young Adults – A wine-like red with faint violet undertones."
"Adults – Have a dark, earthy red."
"Middle-aged folk – A garnet deep, nearly black-red."
"Elders like me, as you can see – Black Cherry / Obsidian Red. Near-black with a red sheen."
Simon's eyes were blazing with interest.
"So my new sibling will have eyes like those?" he asked.
"—"
Chief Róisín looked conflicted.
"If she does, that may cause some issues for her."
"Huh, why?"
"Because half—"
He was interrupted by one of his helpers.
"Chief Róisín, those men from the army are here again."
He clicked his tongue.
"How many times have I told those fools it's not that time yet… and they still pester me," he sighed.
"Alright, kids, that's all for today."
"Aww," they all said.
Simon got up from the floor.
He wondered what the chief meant to say.
As he walked out, he passed a few guards. They were all tall with shiny armor with the crest of some kind of bird on it. He wasn't paying attention to where he was walking and bumped into something hard.
"Gah. So—sorry," he said.
"Mm, no worries." The man wore a suit unlike the soldiers' and a top hat. He had brown eyes and golden, dark hair. "Stay out of trouble now," the man said with an unnerving smile…
October
Simon had a dream; he was falling into the abyss with no ending. Every time he awoke, he'd been in a cold sweat. He hated this feeling; he wasn't one to have nightmares—however, it had been more frequent lately.
"I know just the cure," Kyleigh said triumphantly.
She took him to the large tree in the village.
"Superstition or not, praying to the tree wards off bad aura and relaxes and cleanses the soul," she said, and put her hands together in a prayer.
"Like this?" he asked, mimicking her.
"Yes. Now close your eyes and think of happy thoughts—or what you wanna dream about."
He did so.
(I wanna little sister, and for her to be happy and healthy!) He prayed.
Da Thump.
His heart skipped a beat.
"Are you ok?"
He was gasping for air.
"That's weird, that's never happened before," she said, worried.
He clung to his chest—it felt like someone put a dumbbell on his heart for a moment.
"I'm fine, just dizzy," he said.
He put his fingers through his hair and picked out something hard.
"What's this?"
He looked at it. It looked like a feather—but it was as hard as a rock.
"Hm, what are you looking at?" Kyleigh asked.
"This was in my hair," he showed her.
"What was?" She looked… puzzled.
"Hm, this right here, this feather."
"...I don't see a—"
She then had a look of realization.
"Oh yeah, what a pretty feather."
She played along.
"Huh? No, I'm not—" He was confused. Was she playing dumb? What was going on?
The next day, he went to show Chief Róisín.
"A feather, you say?" He stroked his chin.
"Could it be... no, a human can't…"
"What? A pretty feather." He patted his head.
He was acting oddly, too. Simon couldn't understand what was going on.
Why could no one see it but him?
He showed some of the kids, and they thought he was just an odd human being…
What was this thing?
He decided to keep it as a good luck charm and kept it under his pillow.
His dreams after that were all but peaceful.
8
November
It was supposed to be December. The baby was supposed to come then.
But Kyleigh suspected it had other plans…
"AhggH!"
Simon was awoken by pained wails.
Simon, of course, didn't know exactly what to do. Thankfully, Izkeial was there with him, and he rushed in — tiredness leaving his body as he realized what was happening.
He quickly said,
"Stay with Miss Kyleigh. I'll go get the midwife."
Simon nodded.
"Oh, um, ok?"
It was pitch black outside, and Izkeial quickly disappeared into the night.
"Um, Miss Kyleigh, are you feeling… ok?"
"JUST PEACHY, SIMON."
She gripped his hand.
"Ow ow ow! You're gonna crush my bones!"
"Of course your father isn't here, 'cause why not?"
She grumbled. She obviously wasn't having a fun time — this was childbirth, after all.
"Why now... especially when Finlay is away… why…"
She looked pained, not only from having her body betray her, but from the circumstances.
Izkeial came in with the midwife, and she was soaked from the rain.
"It's too early… they're not ready. I'm not—"
"Like it or not, this is happening," the midwife said.
"I'll go to town and get Father."
Izkeial said, grabbing his coat.
Simon stood there, not knowing what to do.
He wanted to help, but his hands were shaking and sweating.
"What if they're too small or fragile? What if they don't make it?"
"Miss Kyleigh, you knew the risk of having a half-breed child. There's no use worrying now,"
The midwife gritted her teeth and lit a small oil lamp.
"If she's too weak, then you use all that time to hold them for their time — and you'll love them every second, as a parent should," she said bluntly.
The birth lasted an hour,
but it felt like ages...
Until she came out —
without a cry.
The midwife moved fast — clearing her nose, rubbing her chest, whispering prayers.
Her skin was pale, tinged yellow… almost golden.
And her tiny chest did not rise.
"She's... she's not breathing," the midwife whispered.
Her skin was jaundiced, stained with the unnatural hue of a liver that hadn't yet awakened.
"N... no... it can't be. My baby?"
Kyleigh said in disbelief.
She knew the risk — but the reality of it all felt like it closed in on her out of nowhere.
Simon stood frozen at the edge of the room,
his small hands fisted against his tunic.
He was only four — too young to understand the finality of death,
but old enough to realize that what happened was not good.
"Why… why is her skin like that?"
He asked.
"It's jaundice," the midwife said.
The child was only five pounds.
Tiny. With little to no breath.
He took a step back — and the other under him bumped into his father behind him,
who had just arrived with Izkeial — soaked to the bone — both panting from the ride across the plains.
Their boots were caked in mud.
"Kyleigh!" Finlay rushed over to her.
"Gods… no…"
He looked down.
"I'm sorry, Finn... I... I'm sorry."
"No… You did everything you could… We knew this was a possibility, right?"
He said, trying to calm her.
She looked empty. The life and love in her eyes — gone.
The child was far too small. And yellow.
"We can try to warm her," the midwife said.
"It's a long shot, but we might still have a chance," she stated.
"Her color is all wrong, and her breathing is weak. If we can raise her body heat, we might have a chance."
Simon felt something call to him —
something in a language he didn't know...
He turned on his heel and ran to his room.
"Simon!" his father called out to him.
9
He reached under his pillow and found it —
the feather from that day.
It was glowing.
He didn't know why, but he knew this might be what she needed.
He ran back to the room.
"Simon, I think it's best if you say—"
"Father, I have something. My lucky charm."
"What? Simon, now isn't the time for—"
Kyleigh spoke up.
"Let him… It's all we can do, right? Let him have this."
She smiled weakly.
He climbed onto the bed, gently opened the cloth over Karrie's chest, and pressed the feather to her skin.
At first, nothing happened.
Then—
The feather glowed white-hot…
and sank into her body in a soft pulse of light.
She stirred.
"WAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!"
The baby screamed.
Her chest rose.
Her tiny hands clenched.
Her red-streaked eyes flew open — glowing for a heartbeat.
"Simon... what did you do?" Kyleigh asked.
"I... used my lucky charm..."
Kyleigh brought the little girl to her face, tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Thank you, Simon… thank you…"
She sobbed.
10
"I suppose we need a name, huh?"
"I still like Morag," Finlay said.
"Morag? Honey?"
"What, it's a strong name! She's strong, so it'd fit — she's a fighter already!"
"No."
Finlay pouted.
"Wanna hold her, Simon?"
"Eh, I… um… don't wanna drop her."
She smiled and gently lifted the baby's hand.
"She's not glass… come on, I'll show you how to hold her. Support her head like this… There you go. See? You're a natural big brother."
"Big brother, huh?"
"Yup!"
"Say, Simon, you might be better at naming than your father."
He looked at Kyleigh, wide-eyed.
"Me? Name her? But I—"
"No buts. You saved her somehow. You're already her hero. You should name her."
"…"
He thought for a moment, then said softly:
"K… Karrie."
"Karrie, huh? I think it's cute!" she said.
"I still think Morag is better."
She slapped his arm.
"Alright, Karrie Fillips it is," his father said, placing a hand on his son's head.
"Not even a day old and you're already her hero. Good work, son."
"Hero…"
Simon looked down at his baby sister.
She looked up at him — and touched his finger.
"I'll always be your hero… Karrie."
And with that,
He gained a new little sister.