By the time Ruby turned seven, her mother had begun to glow.
That was the only word Ruby could think of.
Glow.
It wasn’t magic. Not the kind Ruby practiced every morning behind the cabin, coaxing tiny fmes into existence while dew still clung to the grass. It was something softer than that. Warmer. Mira’s skin seemed brighter, her cheeks constantly flushed with a gentle warmth that the cold mountain air never quite managed to steal away.
And her belly had grown round.
Very round.
Ruby sat on the wooden porch steps early one morning watching her mother cross the yard slowly with a basket of undry banced against her hip. The sun had barely cleared the treeline, turning the frost on the grass into tiny glimmering crystals.
Mira waddled more than walked now.
Ruby frowned.
“You’re supposed to let me help.”
Mira gnced over her shoulder and smiled.
“You did help.”
Ruby raised an eyebrow.
“How?”
“You carried the empty basket outside earlier.”
Ruby crossed her arms.
“That’s not helping. That’s watching.”
Mira ughed, setting the basket down carefully beside the wash basin.
Her ugh always reminded Ruby of warm mornings. It had a light musical quality that filled the air without ever sounding forced.
“You’re seven,” Mira said patiently. “You are not hauling wet undry across the yard.”
Ruby muttered something under her breath and walked over anyway.
Up close, Mira smelled faintly of vender soap and woodsmoke. Ruby noticed things like that automatically now. The details of people. Their scents. Their habits.
Her mother rested one hand against the small of her back as she leaned forward slightly.
Then she froze.
“Oh.”
Ruby immediately straightened.
“What?”
Mira blinked in surprise.
“She kicked.”
Ruby’s eyes widened.
“She?”
“Well,” Mira said thoughtfully, “it feels like a she.”
Ruby stepped closer.
“Can I feel?”
Mira guided her hand carefully to the round curve of her stomach.
For a moment nothing happened.
Then something shifted beneath Ruby’s palm.
Ruby jerked back instinctively.
“She moved!”
Mira ughed softly.
“Yes she did.”
Ruby stared at her mother’s belly with wide eyes.
“She’s strong.”
Mira smiled.
“She’ll have to be.”
Ruby slowly pced her hand there again, more carefully this time.
Another small kick pushed against her palm.
And suddenly Ruby wasn’t standing in a grassy yard beside a log cabin.
She was standing in a hospital room.
Emma sat on the edge of the bed wearing a loose gray sweater stretched tight across her stomach. Her dark hair had been pulled into a messy ponytail, and she had been rubbing the side of her belly in exactly the same absentminded way Mira was doing now.
“Ryan,” Emma had said suddenly.
“What?”
“She kicked.”
Ryan had hurried across the room like someone had shouted that the building was on fire.
“Where?”
Emma had taken his hand and pressed it against her stomach.
A tiny thump.
Ryan’s eyes had widened just like Ruby’s did now.
“Whoa.”
Emma had ughed.
“I told you.”
Back in the present, Ruby pulled her hand away slowly.
The memory faded like mist.
Mira tilted her head.
“You’re thinking again.”
Ruby forced a small smile.
“Just surprised.”
Mira brushed Ruby’s red hair gently away from her face.
“You’re going to be a wonderful big sister.”
Ruby nodded politely.
But inside something twisted.
Because once, in another life, she had been a father.
Multiple months go by, and Mira is ready to pop.
Darius was convinced the baby would arrive early.
Which meant he had begun pacing.
Ruby noticed immediately.
Her father normally moved with calm confidence, the quiet steadiness of someone who had spent years surviving dangerous situations. Even chopping wood or repairing traps, he worked with patient efficiency.
Now he paced.
Back and forth across the cabin floor.
Ruby watched him from the table.
“Dad.”
“Yes?”
“You’re making the floor nervous.”
Darius stopped mid-step.
“What?”
“You’ve walked past this table sixteen times.”
Darius blinked.
“You counted?”
Ruby shrugged.
“It was distracting.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I’m not nervous.”
Ruby tilted her head.
“You sharpened the same knife three times today.”
“That was maintenance.”
“And you checked the door tch seven times.”
Darius opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then sighed.
“Fine. Maybe I’m a little nervous.”
Mira chuckled from her chair beside the fire.
“You fought a swamp drake once.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
Darius gestured vaguely.
“I could stab the drake.”
Ruby considered that.
“Fair point.”
The midwife arrived three days ter.
Ruby recognized her immediately.
Old Mother Harn.
The vilge midwife and unofficial nurse for half the countryside.
She was small and round with sharp gray eyes and a permanent expression of amused skepticism. Her gray hair had been braided tightly and coiled behind her head like a crown of silver rope.
She stepped inside carrying a worn leather satchel.
“Well now,” she said cheerfully, stamping snow from her boots. “Looks like the pce hasn’t burned down since the st time I visited.”
Darius chuckled.
“We try our best.”
Mother Harn’s gaze immediately nded on Ruby.
“Well well.”
Ruby stood politely.
“Hello again.”
The old woman squinted at her.
“You’re taller.”
Ruby nodded.
“I practice.”
The midwife barked out a ugh.
“Practice growing?”
“Among other things.”
Mother Harn crouched in front of Ruby and examined her closely.
“Hm.”
She tilted Ruby’s chin slightly, studying her face.
“You're not the little spitfire I remember. That baby was so mad to be outside. Much more calm it appears.”
Mira sighed from the bed.
“Her calmness worries me sometimes.”
Ruby frowned.
“I’m sitting right here.”
Mother Harn ughed.
“That’s the problem, dear. Most children your age are climbing furniture. Not patiently greeting visitors.”
Ruby shrugged.
“I tried climbing a tree once.”
“And?”
“I fell.”
The midwife ughed again.
“Well you seem healthy enough.”
She stood and gave Darius an approving nod.
“You’re feeding her well.”
Darius grinned.
“She eats like a lumberjack.”
Ruby frowned.
“That feels inaccurate.”
Labor began that night.
Ruby woke to voices.
Soft.
Urgent.
She slipped from bed and padded toward the main room.
The cabin felt different.
Tense.
Mother Harn was already moving around the room preparing cloths and bowls of hot water.
Mira gripped the edge of the bed as a contraction passed.
Darius stood beside her holding her hand.
He looked terrified.
Ruby noticed immediately.
Her father had faced monsters.
But this clearly scared him more.
Ruby sat quietly against the wall.
Hours passed.
Mira’s breathing came in sharp waves.
Mother Harn gave calm instructions.
Darius never let go of Mira’s hand.
Ruby watched everything.
Because she remembered.
Emma in the hospital bed.
The smell of antiseptic.
The beeping machines.
Emma gripping Ryan’s hand so tightly he thought she might break it.
“You did this to me,” Emma had muttered between contractions.
Ryan had ughed nervously.
“That feels like an unfair accusation.”
“You helped.”
Back in the cabin Mira cried out again.
Mother Harn said firmly,
“One more push.”
The room went silent.
Then—
A cry.
Sharp.
New.
Alive.
Ruby’s head snapped up.
Mother Harn lifted the tiny wriggling bundle.
“Well now,” she said proudly. “There she is.”
Darius exhaled so loudly it almost sounded like ughter.
“A girl?”
“A girl.”
Ruby stepped closer slowly.
The baby was tiny.
Red-faced.
With a thick tuft of dark red hair already visible.
Ruby blinked.
“She looks angry.”
Mother Harn ughed.
“That’s normal.”
The baby cried again.
Ruby felt something tighten painfully in her chest.
Because the sound was exactly the same.
Jacob had sounded like that.
Tyler too.
Lucy most of all.
The newborn grabbed Ruby’s finger suddenly.
Her grip was surprisingly strong.
“She’s strong,” Ruby whispered.
Darius chuckled.
“She’ll need to be.”
Later Mira held the baby carefully.
“What’s her name?” Ruby asked.
Mira smiled softly.
“Evelyn.”
Ruby repeated it.
“Evelyn.”
Mira nodded.
“My mother’s name.”
“She supported us when we first started adventuring,” Darius added.
Ruby studied the baby carefully.
Tiny nose.
Closed eyes.
Little fists waving slowly.
Ruby felt that strange warmth again.
Not magic.
Something quieter.
A sister.
That night Ruby stood outside beneath the stars.
A small fme floated above her palm, casting warm light across the grass.
Inside the cabin Evelyn cried again.
Mother Harn muttered something about “healthy lungs.”
Ruby smiled faintly.
Then she looked toward the dark hills beyond the vilge.
Toward the unknown.
The fme flickered.
Fire magic still came easily.
But it wasn’t the magic she wanted.
Ruby closed her hand.
The first year after Evelyn was born passed quietly.
Quietly for everyone except Ruby.
For Ruby it was a year of practice.
Every morning she woke before the sun rose over the treeline. The cabin would still be cool and quiet, the embers in the hearth glowing faintly from the night before.
She would step outside barefoot into the morning dew and stretch her fingers toward the pale gray sky.
Then she would summon fire.
At first the fme was small and unstable. It flickered nervously like a frightened candle, wavering whenever her concentration slipped.
But the books had been very clear.
Magic was a muscle.
And Ruby treated it exactly like one.
Every day she pushed a little further.
A little longer.
A little brighter.
By the time Ruby turned eight, the fme hovered steadily above her palm without effort.
It felt natural now.
Like breathing.
The euphoric rush that followed successful casting still came, but it had softened slightly. The first time she had cast fire the feeling had nearly knocked her over with excitement.
Now it was calmer.
Warmer.
A quiet pulse of satisfaction that spread through her chest and limbs.
Still addictive.
Still wonderful.
But familiar.
Sometimes the spell failed.
Those moments were far less pleasant.
Once she had pushed too much mana into the fme, trying to make it grow rger.
The fire had sputtered violently before colpsing.
The backsh hit her immediately.
A sharp headache smmed behind her eyes and her arms trembled as if she had been lifting heavy stones all day.
Ruby had stumbled inside the cabin and colpsed onto the floor.
Mira found her minutes ter.
“What happened?”
Ruby groaned.
“Magic.”
Mira sighed.
“Your father said this would happen.”
“I’m fine.”
“You look like a boiled turnip.”
“That's rude.”
Despite the occasional setbacks, Ruby improved quickly.
Very quickly.
By nine she could shape the fme.
Not just summon it.
Control it.
She could stretch the fire into a thin ribbon of light that floated beside her like a tiny glowing snake.
Or compress it into a small bright orb that hovered above her palm like a ntern.
Evelyn adored this.
The baby had grown into a cheerful toddler with the same deep red hair as Ruby and Mira.
Whenever Ruby practiced, Evelyn would toddle across the yard on unsteady legs and cp excitedly.
“Fwame!”
Ruby smiled.
“Yes. Fme.”
She would shape the fire into tiny dancing shapes.
Little birds.
Spinning rings.
Once she even made a glowing butterfly that drifted slowly through the air before dissolving into sparks.
Evelyn squealed with delight.
“Again!”
Ruby ughed softly.
“Alright. One more.”
Mira would often watch from the doorway with folded arms and an amused smile.
“I suppose magic has its uses.”
Fire magic turned out to be surprisingly helpful around the house.
Ruby could light the hearth without flint.
Warm water for Mira when Evelyn needed bathing.
Even keep nterns glowing te into the evening while Mira sewed or Darius repaired tools.
It became a quiet part of life.
Like having an extra candle that followed Ruby wherever she went.
But while Ruby practiced fire magic every day, her real obsession remained something else.
Books.
Darius continued bringing them back from town whenever he could find them.
Some were practical.
Others were ancient histories or half-forgotten myths copied by schors centuries earlier.
Ruby read all of them.
She read by candlelight.
By firelight.
Sometimes by the soft glow of her own magic.
The cabin’s small shelf slowly filled with worn volumes.
Mira joked that they were slowly turning into a library.
When Ruby turned ten, Darius brought home another bundle of books.
Ruby sat at the table as he unwrapped them.
“Found something interesting this time,” he said.
Ruby leaned forward eagerly.
The first two were simple.
Agricultural records.
A merchant ledger.
But the third book was different.
Its cover was dark leather with a faded symbol pressed into the center.
Ruby opened it slowly.
The title read:
Chronicles of the Demon Wars
Ruby’s curiosity sharpened instantly.
The book described a brutal conflict centuries earlier.
Human kingdoms.
Elven territories.
Dwarven mountain holds.
All of them united for the first time in history.
Against demons.
Ruby read for hours.
The war had sted decades.
Cities burned.
Armies vanished.
Entire regions of the continent had been scarred by battles between dark magic and the combined forces of the mortal races.
The book described armies of dark mages marching beside creatures summoned from another realm.
Demons.
Beings of shadow and fme that obeyed those who called them.
Ruby’s pulse quickened.
Then she noticed something strange.
Between sections of historical text were drawings.
Careful diagrams sketched in bck ink.
Circles.
Symbols.
Complex patterns carved into the ground.
Ruby leaned closer.
Summoning circles.
The accompanying notes described how investigators had discovered these patterns at battlefields where demons had appeared.
Candles arranged at specific points.
Animal skulls pced at the edges.
Blood spilled along carved lines.
Ruby felt something stir in her chest.
A strange prickling sensation.
Like electricity running through her spine.
For a moment it reminded her of something from her old life.
The feeling she used to associate with the Holy Ghost.
That quiet sense of importance.
Of rightness.
But now she wondered.
Had it always just been instinct?
Some deeper sense humans carried without understanding?
Ruby stared at the diagram.
Her heartbeat thumped loudly.
This was important.
She didn’t know why.
But she felt it.
That night Ruby copied the circle carefully onto scraps of parchment.
Over and over.
She studied every line.
Every symbol.
Every note in the margins describing the materials investigators had discovered near the rituals.
Candles.
Blood.
Animal skulls.
Offerings.
Ruby tapped the quill against the page thoughtfully.
That st part might be difficult.
The next morning Ruby approached her father as he cleaned a hunting knife near the door.
“Dad?”
Darius looked up.
“Yes?”
Ruby hesitated for a moment.
Then asked casually,
“Can I go hunting with you?”
Darius blinked.
“Hunting?”
Ruby nodded.
“I’m ten now.”
“That’s true. But Hunting is hard work. Not many girls your age would ask to do it. Wouldn't you prefer to go py with your magic.”
“I just want to learn. I want to be like you when I grow up.”
Darius leaned back in his chair and studied her carefully. A small tear formed in his eye but he turned around and tried to hide it brushing it away.
“You’re right. As you're father and since you're the oldest. It's time you learned.”
Ruby nodded again. She could see the pride resonating from his face. Maniputing her father felt wrong.
But she knew if one of her sons had said something like that to her… she would have done anything for them too.
“I think I should use a bow though not a sword.”
Darius rubbed his beard thoughtfully.
“Well. Thats fair.”
He stood and walked to the wall where several bows hung beside the door.
After a moment he selected the smallest one.
It was a simple hunting bow made from polished yew wood.
He held it out.
“Alright then.”
Ruby’s eyes widened slightly as she took it.
The bow was lighter than she expected.
But solid.
Real.
Darius smiled faintly.
“Looks like it’s time you and I had a little daddy daughter date.”
Ruby ran her fingers along the smooth curve of the wood.
Behind her calm expression, her mind raced.
Candles.
Blood.
Animal skulls.
The ritual components she had read about were beginning to feel… achievable.
Darius cpped a hand on her shoulder.
“We leave at dawn tomorrow.”
Ruby nodded.
“Okay.”
He turned back toward the door.
But Ruby stayed where she was, holding the bow gripping it tightly as a small, quiet smile spread across her face.
