It was late spring when the first cries echoed through the wooden walls of the village's birthing cottage.
Not the wail of fear or pain—but the fierce, healthy cry of a newborn meeting the world.
The sun had just crested over the eastern cliffs, painting golden rays across the treetops, when Ryuuji opened the window to his home and breathed in deeply.
He smiled.
"It's time."
A Quiet Morning
The village was already stirring, though no one was loud. Even the children seemed to understand—today was different. Special.
Kiko sat cross-legged in front of Moko, braiding a wreath of blooming herbs and little wildflowers.
"She's gonna be a mama," she whispered to the sleepy guardian beast. "Mama Marla."
Moko gave a low, gentle huff and stretched his glowing tail across Kiko's lap.
Jarred hadn't slept all night.
He sat by the door of the cottage, his normally loud, boisterous manner gone. He was clutching a soft cloth between his hands, and his leg wouldn't stop bouncing.
Inside, Sierra stood near the bed, hands glowing with soft amber light as she guided Marla through the final moments. Raphtael knelt beside her, murmuring calming words, occasionally singing a quiet, wordless tune that seemed to ease even the tension in the walls.
Marla gritted her teeth through a contraction, sweat glistening on her brow.
"I can't—"
"You already are," Sierra said firmly, her eyes kind. "Just a little more, Marla."
The room glowed faintly. Not with magic, but with something deeper. Something alive.
Outside, the villagers gathered quietly under the shade of the great tree. Elysia stood with arms crossed, watching the sun rise with a gentle gaze. Reina passed around hot tea without a word. Duncan sharpened a wooden toy he'd been carving for weeks—pretending to focus, but clearly listening to every sound.
And Ryuuji?
He stood just outside the cottage, eyes closed, listening.
He remembered war cries.
He remembered pain, darkness, and the end of all things.
But this…
This cry?
This was life.
The Cry of a New Life
And then—it came.
A single, sharp, beautiful wail.
Then another. Softer.
Then quiet murmurs of surprise.
The door opened gently, and Raphtael peeked out.
He looked exhausted.
He was smiling.
"She's here," he said.
Jarred didn't speak. Just rushed past him into the room, tears already streaming down his face.
Ryuuji let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
Mother and Child
Marla cradled her daughter in her arms—tiny, dark-haired, with the beginnings of soft curls and the deepest blue eyes anyone had ever seen.
Jarred knelt beside the bed, resting his forehead against Marla's arm.
"She's so small," he whispered.
"She's perfect," Marla replied weakly.
"What do we call her?" Sierra asked gently, wiping her hands and stepping back.
Marla looked at Jarred. He looked at her.
And together they said: "Lina."
"Lina Lennon," Jarred whispered reverently. "Welcome to the world, little one."
Celebration, the Village Way
The village didn't celebrate with trumpets or fireworks.
They celebrated with quiet reverence.
Baskets of warm bread were passed around. Stews made with wild mushrooms and sweet roots. Duncan gifted the small wooden fox toy he had carved by hand. Kiko gave Lina her favorite blanket—even though it was way too big—and declared herself "big sister #2."
Moko watched it all with a calm expression, tail swishing like grass in the wind.
As night fell, the entire village gathered under the soft lanterns again, but this time there were no speeches. No performances.
Just peace.
A new soul had joined them.
Another light under the tree.
Later That Night
Ryuuji sat on the porch of his home, watching fireflies flicker.
Elysia rested beside him, head on his shoulder, her silver hair tied back in a soft braid.
"I think I forgot how fragile new life is," he murmured.
"You didn't forget," she said. "You just spent so long protecting it… you never got to see it bloom."
Kiko was already asleep in her room. Moko curled around her bed like a protective guardian beast-turned-pillow.
Ryuuji smiled faintly. "Do you ever think about it?"
"About what?"
"Us. Maybe... our own little one someday?"
Elysia was quiet.
Then she whispered, "Yes."
He turned to look at her.
She didn't look embarrassed. Just peaceful.
"I think this is a place a child could grow up and never know the world we used to fight."
"Yeah," Ryuuji said, smiling softly. "Yeah... I think so too."