The cries came just before dawn.
First, a soft, wailing sound—then another.
The midwife held up two newborns wrapped in soft white cloth.
"Twin girls," she said, tears in her eyes. "Healthy. Foxkin. Perfect."
Lira, pale and exhausted, looked toward Myrelion, her eyes swimming with emotion.
"Let me see them…"
The first baby had her mother's reddish-orange hair, tiny fox ears matching the same shade, and bright red eyes. She wailed loudly, her tail flicking.
"She's… fiery," Lira said with a tired laugh.
The second girl was quieter, eyes wide and alert. She had dark brown hair and moss-green eyes—the same features Lira had once described as belonging to her late husband, Sorin.
"She has… his eyes," Lira whispered, voice cracking. "She's his…"
Myrelion stared at the two infants in silence.
Despite the walls around his heart, something cracked inside him. Something warm.
He gently reached for the first twin, holding her close to his chest. The baby blinked, quieting, as if sensing the man who had silently chosen to protect her long before she was born.
"You're not just Lira's daughters now," he said softly. "You're mine too."
Lira began to cry—not from pain, but joy.
"…Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."
Myrelion sat beside her, the twin girls nestled between them, a fragile family born of blood, shadow, and healing.