Kaelen sat cross-legged on the floorboards, the scrap of fabric clutched tight in both hands. It felt warm against his palms, impossibly familiar. He didn’t even notice Draven come in until his brother’s shadow fell across him.

“What’s that?” Draven’s voice was sharp, suspicious.

Kaelen hesitated, then held it out like an offering. “It was the fox. The white one. It… it left this behind. I think—” His throat tightened. “I think it’s hers.”

Draven snatched the fabric before Kaelen could stop him. He turned it over in his hands, frowning. Then his face hardened.

“No. No, Kael. Don’t start this.”

“But—”

Draven threw the scrap onto the table. “It’s just cloth. Nothing special. You think a fox carried this from her? That she sent it back? No. She’s gone. Don’t you get it?”

Kaelen’s lip trembled, but he forced the words out. “It smells like her. I know it does. Maybe she’s—”

“She’s not anything!” Draven’s voice cracked, louder now. His small fists clenched at his sides. “She left us. She left me to deal with him. If she cared, she wouldn’t have gone. She wouldn’t have abandoned us to—” He bit the words off, jaw trembling, but the fury wouldn’t stop. “Stop pretending she’s coming back. Stop making up stories.”

Kaelen flinched at the heat in his brother’s tone. He wanted to argue, to explain the way the cloth made his chest ache like she was near, but Draven’s face was so tight with pain it stole the words from him.

Draven turned away, shoving a hand through his tangled hair. “Just throw it out, Kael. Burn it. It’s nothing but lies.”

Kaelen hugged the fabric to his chest once more when Draven wasn’t looking, quiet and stubborn.

At last Draven muttered, “I have to go. Father’s taking me with him tonight. He says I’m old enough now.” His voice held no pride — only weariness. “Stay inside. Don’t follow. And don’t—” He glanced at the hidden corner where Kaelen kept the egg. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

The door slammed behind him, leaving Kaelen alone in the dark house.

The shadows pressed in close. The walls creaked like they were listening.

Kaelen sat in silence, the fabric wound tightly around his fingers, the faint glow of the egg pulsing upstairs like a heartbeat.

Draven crouched low behind the trees, the damp scent of moss and fallen leaves filling his nose. His father’s boots crunched across the undergrowth ahead, Harlan’s heavy breathing punctuated by the occasional barked order to the men with him.

“Keep your eyes open!” their father growled. “The fae will try to slip through shadows. Nothing moves without me knowing it!”

Draven’s small hands trembled on the hilt of his knife. The weight of it felt like the weight of the valley itself. His chest burned with exhaustion, and yet he dared not slow his pace. Not now.

He stole a glance at the men around him. They were all bigger, older, meaner — but he had to keep up. He had to prove he belonged here, that he could fight, that he could protect what mattered. Most of all, he had to make sure Kaelen stayed safe at home, away from the dangers he couldn’t face alone.

The shadows shifted unnaturally among the trees. A bird alighted on a branch above them, its wings iridescent in colors Draven couldn’t name. It tilted its head, unnervingly intelligent, before darting off. The men muttered, but Harlan barked, “Ignore it! Nothing that flies can touch us!”

Draven’s stomach knotted. He knew better. He’d seen the animals in the village — the deer with bone antlers, the crows with crimson wings. He’d seen how their eyes seemed to know things no human should.

How do you fight what you don’t understand?

A rustle in the brush made him spin, knife raised, breath caught in his throat. Nothing. Just shadows. But every snap of a twig felt deliberate, as if the forest itself were alive and watching.

He thought of Kaelen, back in the dark house, alone with his secret box, fabric clutched like a talisman. A pang of guilt twisted in him. I should be there, keeping him safe.

Harlan’s voice cut through the trees, sharp and demanding. “Don’t lag behind! We need to push them back! Show them the valley is ours to guard!”

Draven’s jaw clenched. He wanted to argue, to remind his father of the things they didn’t understand, the whispers of strange creatures in homes, the foxes, the birds. But he stayed silent, moving with precision, muscles taut, eyes scanning every shadow.

This is why mother left, he thought bitterly. Not strong enough, not brave enough. Left me and Kaelen to handle it all.

His hands shook as he gripped the knife tighter. The forest seemed to grow darker, older, more patient. He felt eyes on him, waiting, curious. Draven swallowed hard, forcing his fear down into the pit of his stomach. He was not a child here. He was a sentinel.

And no one — not mother, not fox, not shadow — would take this valley without him fighting.

—-------

Kaelen crept upstairs, the house silent except for the soft sigh of wind through the cracks in the walls. His hands trembled as he lifted the floorboard, careful not to let it creak. There it was — the egg, cradled in the rag like a sleeping thing.

Tonight, it felt different.

He hesitated, pressing his fingers against the smooth shell. The silver veins glimmered brighter than usual, almost like tiny threads of lightning running just beneath the surface. And beneath his touch, a faint thrum began — soft, almost imperceptible, like the beating of a heart.

Kaelen froze. The sound seemed to echo the tension outside. He could hear faint rustling beyond the house: the distant snap of twigs, voices muffled in the forest. Draven and Father, out there, protecting the valley, and he alone with this… this living thing.

The egg shivered suddenly, rocking gently on the rag as if stirred by some invisible hand. Kaelen’s breath caught. He wrapped his arms around it instinctively, pressing it close.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ll protect you. I won’t let them hurt you.”

The silver veins pulsed stronger, glowing faintly against his chest, warmth creeping into his palms. He thought of Draven in the forest, brave and angry, and something inside him stirred — a mixture of fear and longing. The egg seemed to respond, trembling again, almost eager, as if it could feel the boy’s emotions.

Kaelen swallowed hard and hugged it tighter, whispering again, more insistently: “I won’t let anything take you. Not the forest, not Father… not even her.”

A faint glow spilled onto the floorboards. The egg rocked gently again, its surface warm, alive, as though affirming his words. Kaelen’s eyes widened. It wasn’t just a thing to hide. It was alive.

He sat there for a long moment, heart hammering, listening to the distant night sounds and imagining Draven moving through the forest, and felt something strange: a bond forming, quiet and unspoken, between him and the tiny, trembling life in his hands.

For the first time, Kaelen understood: he wasn’t just guarding a secret. He was guarding hope.