Chapter 4: Awakening

When the lord and lady finally woke, it had reached that day’s evening. Golden rays and peach-colored clouds decorated the sky above the estate. Shortly after rising, Lucina took a moment to indulge in a soothing bath, allowing the warm water to envelop her body, providing a sense of relief and comfort, and permitting her to de-stress slightly.

Solan, meanwhile, had remained seated at the end of the bedchamber, looking blankly into the distance; a feeling of guilt and hopelessness stirred his stomach.

I don't want to sit here hopelessly, but I don't know what would help their state; they can't even feed. We don't know what magic is afflicting my poor babies. Even if I set out to the capital looking for a sage or priest, there's no guarantee they'd be able to undo the effects of an unknown ancient spell. They'd most likely starve to death before then…they were only born a little more than a week ago, and they're still very weak. 

Solan gave a heavy sigh and turned to see the twins behind him, who remained soundless in the same spot for the past several hours.

Lilibeth stood at the kitchen counter, preparing vegetables with precise cuts. Helping her make tonight's meal was the young Lady of the house, Linae Kazantria, who balanced herself atop a wooden stool while stirring a pot of soup with a long wooden spoon. The faint smell of herbs and chicken broth drifted through the air.

“Careful,” Lilibeth said softly, adjusting the girl’s grip on the spoon. “Not too fast, you don't want to scald yourself with the hot liquid, my lady.”

“Yeah, I know...” Linae murmured dismissively. Even though she was just twelve years old at the time, she would carry herself with the air of being someone older than she actually was.

Lucina left the washroom. Now clothed and drying her long golden hair with a hand towel, she started heading upstairs. In that instant, two soft cries called out at once as if in perfect unison. 

Lucina dashed upstairs and into the room. Solan sat next to the infants, disbelief in his eyes. Lucina fell to her knees at the edge of the bed. “Oh gods, thank you for hearing us and returning my babies,” she cried, pulling them both in close as tears spilled down her cheeks. Both children squirmed in her embrace, their soft cries filling the room after the countless hours of silence.

The cries rang throughout the house, reaching the kitchen. Lilibeth lost her grip, and the knife in her hand fell to the tiled flooring, only missing her right foot by a few centimeters. Linae flinched at the sound, wobbling precariously atop the stool. Both froze, then turned to each other, wide-eyed. The twins? They both thought.

Without another word, both hurried up the staircase, stopping when they reached the doorway of the master chamber. Lilibeth raised a hand to her mouth, her usual composed demeanor fading. Her white hair glimmering faintly in the candlelight, her chest rising with uneven breaths. “They… they're alive,” she whispered.

Linae, standing just behind her, rose to the tips of her toes, trying to see past the maid. Lucina raised her tear-streaked face, smiling faintly through her sorrow towards them.

Linae edged further into the chamber, her eyes locked on the twins. A strange feeling filled her chest, unease. She didn’t understand—why had they been asleep for so long? Why was she told by the maid not to bother her parents all day? And what happened late the night before when she was rushed to bed?

For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the overlapping cries of the twins and the uneven breaths of their parents. Lucina kissed her daughter’s damp cheek, her words breaking through sobs. “We thought we had lost you… Oh, my precious dears.”

The twins soon quieted under the comfort of their mother's warmth, their little eyes fluttering open, squinting against the dim candlelight that glowed in the room. Solan and Lucina exchanged a glance—relief going over their faces before slowly rising to their feet, each holding a child

“Come,” Lilibeth urged gently from the doorway. “Let us gather in the dining hall. A proper meal will help strengthen you all. The babes need their rest, and you, my lady, have hardly eaten.”

Lucina nodded faintly, wiping tears from her face. The parents carried the children downstairs. Linae trailed close behind, twiddling her fingers.

***

The rectangular wooden dining table was set simply with a white tablecloth and rows of wax candles that dimly lit the room. The fireplace at the edge of the room glowed with heat and provided extra light. The pot of soup sat steaming in the center of the table along with freshly baked pieces of bread. Lilibeth moved swiftly with grace, pouring and serving. Solan sat at the head of the table, his face still strained but calmer. Linae sat opposite her mother and ate quietly, her spoon dipping into her soup while often glancing toward her siblings. They each lay in cushioned wooden cradles at their mother's side, and the flicker of candlelight glowed softly across their tiny faces

The boy flickered his eyes open, his vision clouded, blurred as though half-dreaming. A shape moved at the edges of his view, and incoherent voices sounded around him, his thoughts and memories scrambled. W-who’s that looking at me? Who are all these people? Where am I, and where's Haruki? The boy drifted his eyes toward the end of the table, where a man sat with broad shoulders and an imposing presence. Could that be Father? No. Not mine… His tiny body shuffled, but he felt trapped. He tried to sit up, but his body felt unbearably weak, limbs no stronger than twigs. His mouth opened, but the only sound that came was a broken cry. The sound startled even him. No, no, that’s not what I was going to say! Why can’t I speak?

His cries swelled, echoing against the walls. From the cradle beside him, another wail rose in response abruptly, as if answering to his helplessness. The girl’s chest ached with the effort, her mouth dry. What’s happening? My voice… Why do I sound like that? What the hell? Why can’t I talk properly? Her tiny fists curled, arms flailing as though to fight the infuriating weakness of her new body. The flickering light blurred as tears filled her eyes. She turned her head, seeing the boy beside her. Is that... A baby? Why… Why do they seem familiar even though I don't recognize their face?

“Oh, they must be starving as well,” Lucina said quickly, reaching to lift her daughter into her arms. “Everything will be okay now, my dear Lea.” Solan rose and walked over to her side of the table, picking up his son to join with his mother. Whoa, what are you doing, sir? He thought while wailing with tears in his eyes, “Cease the tears now, my boy Leo, you'll have your feed soon enough, son.”

Did he say Leo? Who is that? That's not my name. I'm Haruka. Solan placed the child in their mother's grasp.

Lucina brought the infants to her breasts, this time relieved when the faintest instinctive suckle came. They shuffled in her arms, but before either could resist, they had begun feeding, even though their minds screamed confusion and panic, their bodies knew only hunger. A-am I drinking this woman's breast milk?! What on earth is happening? I'm feeling better as I drink it, but this seems wrong. I don't even know who these people are or why she's making me in the first place. What am I, a baby too? Thought the girl.

What are you stuffing my mouth with, lady? Huh? I-it’s warm, soft, and squishy. For a split second, it reminded me of a nikuman… no, wait, this isn’t food, why’s there liquid!            Oh god—

The boy started drinking instinctively from her breast and soon quieted and shut his eyes. At first, the room was quiet except for the clinking of utensils and occasional crunching or slurping. It was Linae who broke the silence. She leaned forward, her brows drawn together.

“Mother,” she asked slowly, “why were all of you asleep for so long today? What happened when Lilibeth sent me to bed last night?”

The question made Lucina freeze for a second. Solan placed a steady palm on his daughter’s shoulder. “They were… caught in something cruel. But it’s over now. You need not worry, Linae.”

“But I should know, I'm their elder sister after all,” she pressed, her immature voice carrying both curiosity and a hint of hurt. “Lili wouldn't tell me anything.”

Lucina managed a fragile smile. “You are still young, dear. Some truths are too heavy for you now. What matters most is that your brother and sister are safe, and with us again.” Though dissatisfied, Linae nodded reluctantly. She returned to her bowl, stealing glances at the tiny infants in her mother’s lap.

As the last spoonfuls of soup were eaten and the bread basket sat nearly empty, a heavy quiet filled the room. The fire crackled low, its glow coming to an end as the embers fizzled out.

Linae sat with her spoon still in hand, her gaze caught once more on the cradles at her mother’s side. The rise and fall of her siblings’ tiny chests brought her a sense of both relief and unease. What exactly had happened while she was sent upstairs the night before? Her lips parted while she looked up towards her mother, but no further words came. She lowered her eyes, choosing to stay silent instead.

Lucina and Solan exchanged a look as if silently agreeing that it was now time to return to bed once again. At last, Lucina rose, and lifted the babies into her arms; they now slept soundly, after their earlier cries that were silenced by the milk and warmth of their mother. They exited the room and proceeded to head to their quarters.

Solan placed a hand on Linae’s shoulder, guiding her up behind Lucina towards her bedchamber. Lilibeth lingered behind in the dining hall, extinguishing candles one by one, the faint trails of smoke curling upward before her face.

Back in the master chamber, the twins were laid carefully in their cots beside their parents’ bed. Their tiny fists twitched now and then, the only sign of unrest in otherwise peaceful sleep. Lucina leaned over them, brushing strands of golden hair behind her ear, her fingers trailing across the infants’ soft brows.

“My little sunborns,” she whispered . “Never again will harm come to you for as long as I still breathe.”

Solan wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her gently toward their bed. The chamber dimmed as the last candle on the bedside table was put out, leaving only the steady rhythm of soft breaths.

For the first time since that dreadful stormy night, the Kazantria family lay together under one roof in peace once again.