(Edrin Mallow’s Point of View): Life in House Valcrest was not what it used to be.

In my fifty-three years of service, my existence had been governed by the precision of a clock, by the neat silence of marble corridors, and by the predictability of days in a noble house. From dawn, when the sun barely caressed the peaks of the mountains on the horizon, until the moment the oil lamps were extinguished after the final watch, my duty was to guarantee immutable elegance. Silver trays were not to make a sound, doors were to close without an echo, and the general atmosphere was to be one of serene and respectful dignity.

All of that, of course, went to ruin the morning young master Dorien set foot in the mansion.

Do not misunderstand me. I am not a man who scorns joy; in fact, I appreciate it in its rightful measure, especially when it serves to lighten the heavy burdens of lordship. But the arrival of His Young Lordship Dorien did not bring measured joy, but rather a gale—a small, energetic hurricane that has kept the entire staff on the verge of hyperventilation since his arrival.

House Valcrest now has a pulse, yes, but it is the racing pulse of a hunted hare.

Young Master Dorien is... ubiquitous. Whenever he is surrounded by people, the simple and adorable cooing of a baby resonates as he waves his hands and legs forcefully. His movement is frenetic; despite being unable to maintain his balance or walk, he is in constant motion, attempting to touch every object or approach every window in the house.

I have seen him. I have seen him alone, when neither the effervescence of the staff nor the cheerful, though sometimes exhausting, presence of Lady Valcrest masks his behavior. Sometimes, while I carry out my duties and he finds himself momentarily forgotten in his crib, his activity ceases. And he looks at me.

It is not the curious, unfocused, and fleeting gaze of a baby. It is a fixed, analytical, almost resentful stare that settles on me with an intent I cannot decipher. His eyes, a color reminiscent of frozen amber, scan me with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine. It is not fear I feel, but a deep and very strange discomfort, as if a small forest creature had entered the house and I were the only servant to notice that its fangs are already growing. There was something slightly bothersome about that baby; I tried once to take him in my arms—something entirely out of place for someone in service like me—but I had cared for the Valcrests' eldest daughter years ago, so I thought I shouldn't worry too much.

"Good morning, Master Dorien."

He merely responded by waving his arms while looking everywhere, pointing with his small, chubby fingers. I believed, for an instant, that young Dorien growled at me. Of course, that would be impossible... although I must admit I still haven't ruled out the possibility.

I set him back down and left the room feeling completely dejected; I now had a heavy weight in my heart. Poor Valcrests, they had adopted an idiot and they didn’t even know it yet.

Even so, as strange as his behavior may be or as messy as the house has become (and believe me, I am using the word "messy" as a great euphemism), I feel happy.

I feel happy because Lady Valcrest, my lady, is infinitely more full of joy than she had been in a long time.

Watching her take him in her arms, with that mixture of exhaustion and fervor, always picking him up when he manages to escape his playpen, laughing with that genuine laughter we hadn't heard in the manor for several weeks, is a blessing. It is a blessing after what happened. I still remember it with terrible vividness—the happiest day of the Valcrests' lives turned into the saddest. I remember Lady Valcrest entering the room smiling, all radiant and energetic as she has always been, followed by hours of screaming and pleas, asking for just a few minutes to hold him in her arms, and then... she didn't leave that room for weeks. Pain consumed her; darkness locked her away. Only Lord Valcrest, with his firmness and patient love, was finally able to convince her to take a walk, to go to the mountain border to breathe different air.

But now, with Dorien, it seemed her face was radiant again; her steps were light, and although I sometimes saw her look at Dorien with an almost frightened intensity (as if fearing he too might vanish), happiness was the predominant emotion. It was almost a miracle they found young Master Dorien on that walk. Everything was peaceful.

Or at least, it was that way until a few days ago.

That strange presentiment about the baby, that slight discomfort I felt when crossing paths with his gaze, finally became a reality.

It was an abrupt change, as if a locked door had suddenly been kicked open. One day, without warning, he began throwing everything everywhere—books, ornaments, porcelain—with a strength and aim that a child of his size should not possess. Then came the biting; not that of a child testing the strength of his teeth, but something genuinely aggressive, directed at anyone who tried to stop him. His babbles became howls, sharp and guttural cries that echoed in the hallways—a language of pure fury.

And the most unsettling thing of all: the hunt (or at least, that’s what some of the staff called it).

He began to chase the servants. He moved by crawling with a speed and agility that defied all logic. He could change direction in an instant even if he lost his balance in the process, sliding under furniture and emerging in the least expected places, as if he were following a scent trail, trying to hunt his prey. Mrs. Poole, our cook, swore that he actually growled at her before trying to bite her ankle. In my heart, I had to believe her.

It was during one of those dangerous days, after young Master Dorien fell asleep after biting Thomas's leg, that I found Lady Valcrest in the shed, forcefully chopping wood. We had always told her that such a thing was not necessary, but she claimed it had become a habit for her since she was a girl, whenever she felt some stress. There she was, chopping wood with monstrous ease, with a distant look in her eyes.

"My Lady," I said, keeping my voice firm and precise, trying to project a calm I did not feel. "Young Master Dorien... has thrown his food at the wall again. And he has tried to reach the vase in the foyer."

She turned toward me, her eyes wide and filled with an anxiety I recognized instantly. Lord Valcrest had departed a few days ago to inspect the border of his territory near the mountain, in an attempt to find the spirit known as the "Mountain King" again, leaving her alone with the staff.

She sighed. "Edrin, I am so worried about Dorien," she commented as she set down the axe and sat on one of the logs, her voice trembling slightly. "What is happening to him? He has been so... energetic, so cheerful, and suddenly, this change. It is so sudden. Seris was so calm at his age, you remember her. So quiet..."

And there she stopped. Her hands gripped the edge of her dress; a slight tremor ran through her fingers. Her breathing, soft at first, began to grow shorter and faster, as if the air in the room had suddenly become insufficient.

"What if he is sick?" she murmured, her voice barely a thread. "What if... what if something serious is wrong with him?"

All the strength she had shown just minutes ago seemed to vanish; her gaze was lost on some point beyond the room, beyond the present. A trembling shimmer gathered on her eyelashes. Her chest rose and fell in a disordered rhythm, as if every breath were a struggle.

"It can't... it can't happen again..."

"My Lady," I said, approaching with the utmost delicacy and placing my gloved hand over her trembling one. "Calm. Breathe with me. Your other daughter was like Lord Valcrest, while young Dorien is... much more like you, with a remarkable vitality. And, if I may make the observation, he has been confined to this house since his arrival. He has been moving, yes, but always within these walls."

I paused, making sure her eyes focused on mine.

"Perhaps, my Lady, he just needs to get some air. To breathe freedom. To let the fresh earth and the wind calm this... excessive energy. He is only a baby; his only concern should be playing and learning."

I was able to calm down as I saw her breathing return to normal and that trembling disappear. She tried to wipe the moisture from her eyes, hoping I wouldn't notice.

"The open air..."

"I am sure of it," I replied with a slight bow.

A spark of her usual fervor ignited in her again. With a speed that reminded me of her youth, she stood up again with great vitality, straightened herself, and gave her cheeks two quick pats.

"Yes! You are right, Edrin! We have been cooped up for too long," she said more cheerfully, after which she cleared her throat, returning to her polite tone of voice. "Please, prepare a few things. A tablecloth, some fresh fruit, and some pastries."

"As you command, my Lady," I said, and I took my leave quickly. House Valcrest remained in a state of chaos, but at least calm had returned to the heart of it.

As I made my way to the kitchen, I couldn't help one last thought about young Master Dorien. If the open air calmed him, it would be a miracle. If it did not, I feared for the safety of any creature that crossed his path.

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MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS, EVERYONE!!! I hope you’re all enjoying the season to the fullest. Thank you so much for sticking with I’m a Dragon, After All. Don't forget to leave your comments; they really help me out!