A few months later, Cerena became pregnant. Signs appeared quickly, and everything unfolded at a swift pace. She was not surprised—she had experienced this before.

  Yet this time, something felt different. She was no longer afraid, and she was no longer alone; perhaps that was the reason for the change. A gentle, comforting warmth seemed to surround her constantly. The fatigue vanished almost as soon as it appeared. She felt at peace… happy, almost euphoric.

  The young man was more attentive than ever. His healing powers eased her aches, while ensuring that both she and the baby remained in perfect health.

  Once again, only three months passed before the birth of her child. The entire village did everything in its power to offer her the greatest comfort. The elders shared their experience and knowledge, watching carefully to ensure that everything went smoothly for Cerena and the child.

  She gave birth to a little girl, whom she named Elvira. She had inherited her father’s black hair and blue eyes, as well as her mother’s features. Owen, now a big brother, was deeply moved by the arrival of his little sister, whom he swore to protect.

  The man was the happiest of fathers. Despite his concern during the birth, he welcomed her with joy. Everything went well, and the little girl—who, like her brother before her, seemed to grow visibly from month to month—became the most adorable of children.

  Cerena, proud yet protective of her daughter, made sure she was always safe wherever she went. The impetuous child gave her no rest and ran like the wind. Cold weather was no obstacle to her. Yet whenever Cerena took her into her arms, a gentle warmth seemed to spread from her hands—as though her desire to protect her were taking physical form around them.

  In a single year, she had already grown the equivalent of four, following her fourteen-year-old brother everywhere.

  Owen had learned to hunt from his stepfather, and the two of them often went out together.

  Once, the little girl secretly followed them and became lost in the snow-covered mountains. Panic-stricken, Cerena searched the entire village without success and had to wait for the two hunters to return before they could set out again to look for her.

  Even in a storm where an ordinary person could hope to find no tracks at all, Owen was able to follow her trail through the memories of her passage etched into the landscape. When his mind finally brushed against that of his little sister, he knew he had found her.

  Even curled up in a nearly invisible hiding place, Owen located her with child’s play. Moreover—perhaps by sheer luck—she had remained miraculously unharmed despite the hours spent alone.

  The little girl reunited with them joyfully, and as if nothing had happened—or as if it had all been a game—she did not hesitate to follow them again the next day.

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  This time, however, Cerena’s vigilance stopped her in her tracks. She remained behind, sulking, at her mother’s side.

  ???

  Elvira loved her family dearly. Whenever she saw her father use his healing magic, the white light that emanated from him reflected in her eyes like stars of curiosity.

  One day, after she had stumbled and scraped herself slightly, the mark vanished as if by magic. Shortly afterward, her brother cut his skin during training, and instinctively, Elvira made the wound disappear as though it had never existed. She had just discovered that she, too, could use healing magic—just like her father.

  Amazed, he decided to teach her this art, happy to pass on his knowledge to his daughter and to see her first talents blossom before his eyes.

  Curious and lively, Elvira also watched her brother’s sword training with rapt attention, fascinated by his gestures. She secretly imitated him, refining her own techniques in her own way. At first, he had refused to involve her in his exercises—it was his duty to protect her. But faced with the little girl’s persistence, unshakable and relentless, he eventually gave in.

  Armed with a staff, Elvira began by learning the basic movements, then she and her brother exchanged a few practice bouts. Over the months, her skill progressed at a surprising pace, revealing a potential her father had never anticipated.

  ???

  Three years had passed since their arrival in the village. Cerena had fully recovered and savored every moment with serenity.

  She watched her children grow with pride and curiosity: Owen was now fifteen, while Elvira, newly awakened to her healing abilities, followed his example with enthusiasm. Time seemed both to race forward and to stand still, the changes so rapid they felt almost unreal.

  Yet she had never forgotten her past. She now knew she had been adopted, but the reason and circumstances remained a mystery. Her homeland—the place where she had grown up before being taken by the Emperor—sometimes felt worlds away. She wondered whether that land still existed, or whether it had been erased by fate.

  She had struggled to grow accustomed to life in the village, and above all, to the kindness of its people. When she had been a captive, no one had truly cared about her—except Owen. For the Emperor, everything was calculated, and no one wished to risk their life by opposing him. Not even her. Only Owen had found the courage to do so, but he had suffered the moral consequences.

  During their flight, Owen had been very protective. He allowed no one with bad intentions to approach her, using his unique gift to influence the minds of others and impose his will. Every encounter, every potential threat, he avoided or neutralized before it could even take shape. Thanks to this, they had never been in danger. He trained his ability relentlessly, exploring its limits, refining a power that was subtle yet formidable.

  Once, they crossed paths with a group of guards at a checkpoint: without papers, they should have been arrested. But a single glance from Owen was enough for the men to turn their attention away, as if there had never been any issue at all. Another time, highway bandits attacked them. He manipulated them into turning on one another, under his mother’s stunned gaze. That was how he found his weapon—obtained without direct violence, but through the sheer power of his mind.

  Owen and Cerena never spoke of the past. They had chosen to leave it behind. She did not know how he had managed to free them from the palace, but now she understood that he could obtain anything he desired through the force of his mind alone—a talent that fascinated her as much as it frightened her.