It had been about a year since I came to live in the Baron’s manor. I held no formal position but was the de facto errand boy of the Baron’s council. I spent most of the time assisting the majordome and the treasurer but helped out here and there wherever my two small hands and tiny brain were needed.

The maids doted on me like I was their own little brother, and the male servants tried to pass down their know-how and skills they had accumulated doing the jobs that kept the manor from falling apart. The cook had declared himself as my ‘good uncle,’ for he knew my father very well. I often visited the kitchen, and he’d give me a treat or two in return for my down to earth opinion about his ever-evolving experiments. The cook and the treasurer were happy. We had upscaled and implemented my larder management scheme to great success.

Not only the cook but everyone took great care in taking me along to the town whenever somebody went on errands. They would drop me at the tavern while gone doing whatever they came out to do, and I would, in the meantime, return to my peasant-self, and help the family with the tavern works, and catch up on how everyone was doing. Some months in, I discovered mother was pregnant, and I jokingly told her not to forget about me.

“You don’t forget about us,” mother said.

In the first spring, shortly after my arrival, the gardener enthusiastically showed me his workings. To be honest, I was more interested in the moles and the earthworms, but I did manage to learn a thing or two about the importance of good soil and water. I hadn’t even known the wind was also an important factor and was pleasantly surprised when he explained to me. I did, from time to time, get my fingers pricked by the thorns while helping in the garden, and when I did, the maids would rush to me and gasp ‘Oh, no!’ and usher me inside much to the dismay of the gardener. The Baron’s gardener took great pride in his work, for his roses were the best of the best of the Roseland, which inevitably meant his were the best of the kingdom. After all, the roses were the bread and butter of our land; our scented oil and honey were highly sought after throughout the kingdom. Seeds, and sometimes even the whole yard worth of bushes, were carried out of the land in bulk whenever someone wanted the very best roses of the kingdom in their garden; usually the Royal Palace and His Majesty’s retreats. Our good neighbor Montclam had the exclusive right as the first stop of all our rose related exports, and they thoroughly enjoyed that status. Needless to say, Seigneur Montclam came over as often as he could to pay respect and appease the Baron. I sat among the men and went over the numbers and schedules. At first, he was a bit taken aback by my presence in the meetings, but as time went by, he began to take me more seriously. I liked him quite a lot because he started to bring sweets and little toys.

The days became hotter, and we, the whole manor, went to the Baron’s summer villa up in the north, overlooking a large lake formed by the ice melting and streaming down from the mountains. If the day was too hot, we jumped into the ice-cold water to cool ourselves, only to yelp and rush out shivering and teeth clattering. There the young ones of the Baron’s servants taught me how to fish and how to gut and clean them. At first, I was more interested in the worms and grubs that were used as baits, but soon enough, I got hooked to the sensation that traveled through the pole to my hand when a fish bit and pulled. I would sit there watching the water, and when there was a bite, the Baroness and the maids would jump and shriek in excitement as I struggled with the pole.

Some days the Baron went hunting, and I went along, but he wasn’t very good with the bows. Most of the time, he had no game under his belt by the end of the day, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I find the joy in the very preparation that leads to the final moment the arrow is released, not the actual kill,” said the Baron with a noble face, but the Baroness scoffed and added; “Oh, my lord, excuses, excuses,” and we all laughed.

Fall was hectic and busy as we tallied the harvest across the entire Barony, working out taxes and planning the next year’s expenditures. Preparations had to be made for the winter, so no subject of the Baron would starve nor freeze, which meant going around towns and villages checking on the people and their larder status. It was also the time of the year for the plank-walk maintenance, and it was during this I had gone to the swampland for the first time. I was surprised to find there was an entire village of people dedicated to keeping the travel paths alive. These people were hard workers and what they were doing deserved recognition. The plank-walk itself was nothing too impressive; just simple hardwood planks zigzagging across over the muddy water through thick twisting woods. But the mapping of the network and the entire swamp area was a work of dedication that spanned over centuries. Every thin straight line on the map, denoting a plank-walk, was labeled, and each plank of wood had a separate sheet tracking its installation date, inspection date, the latest maintenance date, and notes from travelers, who from time to time reported on things such as a plank not being stable or something wobbling and such. This was some serious record-keeping and issue tracking I found myself humbled by yet salivating over the archive.

Winter wasn’t as busy as the fall, but we kept going out to the towns and villages checking on the people. Did they have enough logs for fires? Are the larders intact? Is anyone sick? By now, people were used to seeing a toddler going around with the Baron’s men I somewhat became well known to the people of the Roseland. When we were not traveling through the snow, the young ones of the servants and I would go out in the garden and play with the snow; making snowmen, or doing snowball fights, or going to the nearby stream and sliding on the frozen water and such. Every time I went out, the Baroness would fuss over and check on my clothing and always wrapped a thick scarf around my neck and put one more layer of the warm coat over my small body.

From time to time, I also did Barron’s dictation when the majordome or the Baron’s solicitor was too busy with other things. His Lordship would pace around the room, speaking slowly so my small hand could keep up.

“Hmm. I believe it is about time you learn the big words,” said the Baron one day after we had gone through a lengthy letter. He granted me full access to his library, and as far as I was concerned, that was the best present he had ever given to me. I read whenever I could, and if there was something I did not understand, I asked the adults. Sometimes even the Baron himself sat down with me and explained things, which often led to more questions, and when the Baron couldn’t answer himself, he would call in the majordome or the treasurer or the solicitor, whoever knew the matter in question better, and we would gather around the small table in the library and talk and talk while the maids brought in teas and cakes until the Baroness walked in and politely suggested maybe we should all get back to work. Then the Baron and I and whoever was with us would giggle like little boys caught doing something mischievous.

Without me realizing it, the priest, my good old pal, had started to come to the manor every other day and tutor me for two hours. After such a session, and if the weather was good, the Baroness would take me out to a stroll in the rose garden, accompanied by maids carrying baskets after baskets of teas and scorns and cakes and bread rolls. And then she would feed me to the brim. Sometimes she just sat there silently watching me munching on scorns. Sometimes she sang me songs with her beautiful voice, and when she did, I was deeply moved and became sentimental. Sometimes she told me stories; of the La Rose family, of the Roseland, of the fairies and the heroes.

It was blissful. A lowborn peasant boy, me, was living the life of a prince and doing the work of ministers while being dotted over and spoiled. Yet I tried to remain humble, and I had not forgotten who I was. Why I was sent by the goddesses. Thinking of how they yanked me out of my previous life and threw me down here made me bitter. Not because I wasn’t happy with my life, but bitter because the goddesses could have at least asked me whether I would volunteer, before engineering a series of events that had led to my untimely death. When I was bitter, my view of the world was skewed, and the bitter me began to suspect that the only reason I was so adored was that I was the only child in the big manor. I assumed that as soon as I reached my ugly boyhood and was not a cute little thing anymore, the novelty of me being a slightly smart toddler, the very trait that had brought me to this manor in the first place, would soon erode, and I would be ditched or even thrown out. I had decided I won’t mind going back to father’s tavern, to my family, to my yet to be born baby sibling. So, I put on the smile and played along so the Baron and the Baroness could, until the very last moment, play pretend to the fullest parenting the child that they never had. That was the least I could do for them as my repayment for the generosity I had received. I kept reminding myself; my purpose is to Firis, not to the La Rose.

One night, though, I had just finished reading a short novel, something about knights and ladies. I thought I’d put it back in the library before going to sleep. Walking down the hallway, I heard voices, and for a reason unknown to me, I tiptoed my way to the Baron’s court where the voices were coming from. The door was slightly ajar, and as I peeked in I saw the Baron pacing around while the Baroness sat there with a patient face. The majordome and the Baroness’ chief maid were there, too. Although I could only see the side of their faces, the two seemed troubled.

“I have said once, and I say again-,” the Baron was saying, “I will not rob him from his father and mother.”

“But, My Lord-,” the majordome tried to protest.

“The Baron!” His Lordship exploded. It was the first time I had ever seen him raise his voice. “The Baron taketh not from his people. He giveth!” He shot out his arm, pointing at the direction which incidentally where my room could be found at. “I provide the boy what mere peasant cannot. What more joy shall I want?”

“My Lady,” the majordome turned to the Baroness, “Your Ladyship adores him to bits. We are simply suggesting, for the benefits of His and Her Lordship and also the boy himself-”

“Majordome,” the Baroness cut him off, “I stand by my Lord. The boy already is the pride of a family who loves him so much. I will not take him away from them.” She stood up with a determined face. “Being able to watch him grow day by day suffices.”

“For me, too.” The Baron added. “Majordome, and mademoiselle, please do not mention the word adoption hereafter.”

The next day the Baroness took me to the garden again. She tried to be extra cheerful; gave me fun little riddles, and she laughed more often and urged me to eat the cakes and so on. I felt so ashamed, I cried.

###

After accidentally discovering the Baron and the Baroness genuinely cared for me, I had decided I would do anything for them. They were truly great, and the enormity of the noble deeds they bestowed unto me was so humbling I could not bow my heads any lower. That, I thought, was what it meant to win the hearts of one’s people. The Baron and the Baroness had surely won mine.

A few months after I had turned four, mother gave birth to my baby brother, and I went to the tavern as often as possible. I then understood the adults. It was such a sweet little thing I could not take my eyes off. I cooed over him and tickled his small tummy and looked into the large eyes and poked the incredibly soft cheeks. When I returned to the manor after such a visit, I would grab anyone passing by and describe, in great detail, what my little baby brother did that day. The maids would listen to me with hands clasped and go ‘Ohh~’ and ‘Ahh~’

But I soon stopped doing that as I realized maybe I was hurting the Baroness with all my baby brother talks. I made some tactful questions to relevant people and learned the Baron and the Baroness, no matter what they tried, never had a child. They had eventually given up, which made the people worry about the heir to the Barony. It was around that time that I conveniently waltzed into the Baron’s view. I was later told that Baron’s council was ecstatic upon discovering me, and they began to push the idea of adopting me shortly after my arrival.

In general, though, nothing really changed. The Baroness still spoiled me, and I kept on doing the tasks given to me and helped out in and around the manor; the only thing that had changed was that I now knew for the fact the Baron and the Baroness were sincere.

One day afternoon, I was crawling in the rose garden, looking for the signs of this one particular mole that had been troubling us for some weeks. We suspected it had dug an extensive tunnel network below the soil, which was a problem. I crawled slowly and carefully as not to hurt myself by the thorns, looking for small heaps of earth that were pushed out onto the surface. I was so engrossed trying to find the signs of tunnel entrances and the mole’s traces; I almost overlooked the mole itself that had been sitting in front of me for some time. I froze in my place and held my breath. It was close; I was sure with a quick lunge I could catch it. Slowly I tensed my legs and was about to-

“Really? They really named you René? Born again?”

I was stunned. I froze again, but this time with my jaw dropped. The mole wiggled its nose and continued.

“Sorry about the appearance. This creature was the closest thing that was around at this moment.”

“Ah… I’m guessing you are… which one are you?”

“Paris. Remember me?”

“Yeeeaaah,” I answered slowly, and my eyes narrowed. Paris, the goddess of disasters and calamities. The one who had unleashed the epidemic that killed my three siblings. I was named René because father wished my birth was the return of the kids he had lost. And this bitch had the audacity to mock my father’s naming sense?

“Anyway,” Paris continued, “I’ve come to warn you. Stay away from things that are very flammable. OK?”

“What do you mean?”

“You will know when the time comes. Just stay away. At least for a week. OK?” She… the mole looked around standing on its hind legs. “And when the time comes, get the heck away from people, OK? That’s for the best. We don’t want to hurt your mortal friends.”

The mole’s eyes flickered rapidly, and then it collapsed dead. Paris was gone.

###

My heart was thumping so hard I thought it was going to explode. A goddess, none other than Paris, the goddess of disasters and catastrophes and calamities, came to warn me of something happening in a week. And I should get away from people? Stay away from flammables? They don't want to hurt other mortals?

No matter how I looked at it, no matter how many times I ran her words again and again in my head, I came to only one conclusion; the goddesses were planning to smite me with something, and they were kind enough to warn me so that I, only I, were to die alone.

I couldn't concentrate for the rest of the day. I retreated to my room and hid under the blanket, cowering. I couldn't think of anything I had done that might have incurred the wrath of the divines. 'I kept my side of the deal, haven't I?' I muttered to myself. Yes, I knew for the fact Firis was divine, and she existed. That was all I had to do. To believe. To know. I had done all that. So why?

By the next morning, I relaxed because I had become delusional. 'The goddesses are bringing me back because my mission is accomplished,' I convinced myself. I speculated maybe they would send me back to my previous life. That led me to another depressed state because I was sure I would miss my current family and friends and the people of the manor. I had a sudden urge to go see my baby brother.

The servants dropped me off at the tavern. I barged in and hugged my family as tightly as I could. I didn't say much but had a good time with my little brother in my arms. I paced around the tavern, wading through the tables and chairs, cooing and cuddling and committing every bit of the baby brother's existence into my memory.

"René, do you have a magnet on you?" father asked.

I looked at him, confused. I followed father's eyes and finally noticed the phenomenon. Various small objects in the tavern were orientated towards me as if they were many compasses pointing the north. They followed me as I moved. I put my brother in father's arms and ran out of the tavern, away from my beloved family. I ran and ran. While running, I couldn't help but notice small things such as pebbles and nails, and light fruits like berries and such were drawn to me in my wake.

I huffed and puffed out of breath as I barged into the priest's dwelling. Once again, things moved slightly and pointed at me.

"Father!" I called my good friend. Surely he would know what was happening to me. From behind the altar, the priest emerged, and I was a bit taken aback. The old man seemed restless, uneasy. Sick, even.

"Father, are you well?"

"René, it's you." He smiled wryly and sat himself down heavily on a bench. "Something is happening, René, don't you feel it, too?"

"Yes, look!" I gestured around me, urging him to look around and see the many objects pointing at me. But he didn't. The priest was staring into my eyes.

"So, you hear it, too? The trumpets? Do you see the bright light? The burning air, too?"

I was baffled.

"Father, what are you talking about?"

"Surely you feel it, too, René, for you were touched by the divine. They have been getting stronger and stronger day by day. What's happening? What's happening!"

I told the frail old man he should get some rest and left as quickly as I could. Sitting in the carriage heading back to the manor, I bit my nails and chewed my lips. What the heck was the old man talking about? What trumpets? What light?

###

Things got worse the following days. Objects not fixed in places were starting to fly towards me. At first, the servants and the maids found the phenomenon amusing as they thought I was playing some tricks, but as it got stronger, they became worried, and, naturally, afraid. I had this feeling the entire universe was poring over me. The dreadful sensation got stronger and stronger day by day; it was too much to bear.

The words from the town were worrisome, too. The priest was losing his mind, and people were becoming agitated. I felt sorry for my old pal. He could sense the touch of the divine in me, and I finally figured whatever was happening to me was affecting him, too. I cursed the goddesses. Leave the poor man out of this!

For days I stayed in my room behind the locked door, which got everyone worried. The Baroness came to see me, but I told her to please leave me alone for her own sake.

Around midnight on the seventh day, I knew it. I felt the universe was collapsing on me, and I knew it was this night that I would die. I had to leave, away from the people, away from the manor. I slipped out of my room and tiptoed out of the manor. I was halfway across the rose garden, making good progress when a thin figure stumbled past me towards the manor. It was the priest. He had torn a piece from his own robe and blindfolded himself. I had no idea how he managed to get to the manor in such a state. Judging by the scratches and bruises, the old man must have fallen a lot and, at some point, walked through thorny rose bushes.

“My Lord!” The priest screamed at the top of his lungs. “We have to run! The Barony must go into hiding!”

Shit, I thought. This man was ruining my chance to get away from the manor unnoticed.

“Father, what in the name of God are you-”

“My Lord!” He screamed again. And again. I panicked as people started to come out of the manor with torches.

“Father? What brings you here at this late hour?” It was the Baron’s voice. I sighed and face-palmed. Now everyone was in danger from whatever the heck was coming to get me.

“My Lord, great trouble is brewing.” The priest stumbled forward. He kept going through the rose bushes. “Deaths!”

“Father, what are you… Are you well?”

“You fools!” The old man trembled, frothing in his mouth. Yet he continued forward, and soon he stood in front of the people of the manor.

“You fools! Do you not see the light as bright as the hundred suns? Do you not hear a thousand trumpets blaring?” He shook his fist in the air. “I see the air burning. And hundreds of banners! Thousands and thousands of men lie dead, slain! And those eyes! Those eyes! Oh, divine! “

A sudden chill ran down my spine, and all the hairs on my body stood up. Firis! The priest was talking about Firis!

The Baron was baffled. He then noticed me standing in the garden.

“René, what are you doing there? Come here-”

“You must hurry! Save the people!” The priest screamed, getting in the face of His Lordship. But then he doubled down, clutching his chest. He gasped for air, face contorted in pain.

“Father!” I rushed to my old pal as the Baron caught the collapsing priest in his arms. By the time I reached the scene and knelt beside the Baron, my friend was already dead. His Lordship was visibly in shock. The maids started to weep. The Baroness knelt beside her husband and softly prayed for the good old priest. And I prayed, too. Dear God, please tell Eris to take good care of this man. It was all my fault. Whatever the goddesses planned for me this night affected the poor old man. He could not survive the overwhelming sensation of divine presence that was gathering.

“Look, a shooting star!”

Somebody shouted, and we all looked up. In the pitch-black night, a lone shooting star was falling. But instead of streaking across the sky, it was getting bigger and bigger.

Then I finally understood. The entire week, the goddesses, the motherfucking bitches were homing onto me. Now they had a lock on, and voila! A meteor was on its way to smite me. Not even a lightning as was typical in the myth, but a freaking meteor!

I jumped up and was about to run, but the Baroness grabbed my hand.

“René, where are you going?”

“Your Ladyship, please stay away from me.” I was panicking. “Everyone, please! Stay away from me!”

I shook my arms and managed to free myself. I ran. Away from the people I cared. Away from the manor that I had spent a good year. I ran as fast as I could. I heard someone running after me, but they fell tangled by the rose veins. The loud yelp was clearly that of the Baron’s voice. For a split second, I almost turned around, but I didn’t. I kept running. As I ran, I heard screams of fear coming from the direction of my town not too far away from the manor. Obviously, folks there, too, were watching the impending doom falling in the course to their Baron’s manor. I ran faster.

But then again, I was only four. I had crossed only two patches of rose beds when the meteor landed some twenty yards behind me. The shock knocked me flat face down on the ground.

###

It made no sense. According to the laws of physics, the whole area should have been obliterated and turned into a smoldering crater. Yet there I was. Still alive only twenty yards away from the impact. Fortunately, there was no fire, although I felt sorry for the gardener for his proud roses were now thoroughly ruined.

People were running towards me, and they were calling my name, worried sick. I stood up, dusted off, and waved. The divine bitches missed their shot, I thought.

It was a small surprise that the Baroness, of all people, was the first one to reach me, closely followed by the Baron. They were all over me, checking every bits and piece of my body to see if I was hurt. Except for the scratches from running through rose bushes, I was fine. I felt fine, too. The Baroness knelt and hugged me whole. She was almost crying.

“Oh, my René. Praise God; you are not hurt.”

The Baron did not say anything. He was out of breath from running. Seeing I was not hurt, he doubled down and let out a sigh of relief. The servants and the maids surrounded us, and we all were relieved. We saw a stream of torches lit in the distant town, heading this way; Loyal folks coming to see if their Baron was alright. It was quite a sight.

Then, one by one, we, the people of the manor, approached the small crater formed by the impact, for there was a strange golden light emanating from the bottom. As one, we gasped.

There was a round rock about as big as myself, hissing, and smoking. It was almost egg-shaped, and the light was seeping out through the cracks on the surface. Yes, it seemed the meteor was hollow.

“Do you hear?” The Baroness whispered. We squinted and perked our ears. At first, it sounded like a cat meowing continuously. But-

“It is a baby!” Her Ladyship slid down the crater to everyone’s shock. She ignored the intense heat and got as close to the smoldering rock as possible. She listened in with closed eyes. And then the Baroness beamed a smile.

“There is a baby inside!”

Buckets of water were poured on the meteor to cool it down. Once the surface was no longer burning hot, just very warm to touches, chisels and hammers were brought in.

“Careful, lads.” The Baroness paced around, as the men started to crack the astro-eggshell.

The Baron and his council, including me, were back on the edge of the crater, gathered in a small circle.

“Could this be what the priest was referring to?”

“May he rest in peace.”

“If this was indeed what the old man was referring to, then should we not be all dead?”

“Excellent point.”

We were, in general, very confused, me especially. ‘There is a baby inside the meteor that was meant to kill me?’

“Perhaps, the baby-”

“If that indeed is a living breathing baby inside.”

“The baby is the trouble, perhaps?”

“Be sensible, my friend. It is just a baby.”

“IF that indeed is a living breathing-”

“Would you please stop-”

The council was arguing among themselves. The Baron was deep in thought, watching the men down in the crater carefully cracking the egg open. He then suddenly snapped out of his trance-like state.

“My God, we completely forgot about him!”

Everyone stopped working and blinked. The priest!

“Majordome, please make the necessary arrangement at once.”

The majordome hurried towards the manor with a group of servants. I glanced at the Baron. This great man took it upon himself to properly send off the town’s priest. Would most likely foot the bill, too.

“My Lord!”

The solicitor called out. He was pointing at the western sky. There was a series of lantern-lit kites all the way from Montclam and over the swampland. A pre-notice from Montclam that an urgent message of the highest importance was on its way. What could it be?

Our thoughts were interrupted by a sudden delightful shriek of the Baroness. The egg was wide open, and as suspected, the inside was hollow. Surrounded by a mysterious gooey golden substance was a small baby, so tiny, not even days old. It must have disliked the sudden influx of the night air and started to cry again. The Baroness and the maids wrapped the baby in linen clothes and rushed toward the manor.

###

We silently paced around in the Baron’s court. Nobody could go back to sleep, and we decided it was better to stay awake and wait for the message from Montclam to arrive. I was relieved to discover things no longer flew in my direction. Whatever the goddesses planned to do unto me was over.

The folks from the town had come and gone. They were worried but was relieved to find the people of the manor safe. The Baron had ordered us to keep quiet about the baby, and we were more than happy to comply. Convincing the folks THAT happened would be a serious challenge anyway. Seeing my father and mother were among the townsfolk, I had pleaded the Baron’s servants to keep quiet about me having been within twenty yards from the impact, for I did not wish to worry my parents.

“It was just a simple meteorite,” I told them casually.

“Shame about the roses, though,” said my father before heading back to the town with the people.

The majordome and the solicitor were busy writing letters, informing people of the land the sudden collapse of the priest. As I had foreseen, we at the manor were arranging the funeral for the poor old man, and for that, I was somewhat grateful. I wanted to send off my friend properly in the manner befitting the respect he rightfully deserved.

It was around dawn when Montclam’s messenger arrived. He had traveled non-stop all night and was dead tired, but the message was of the highest importance.

“Her Majesty Queen Mary has passed away.”

“What?! How?” The Baron jumped up from his seat. It was such sudden news. The Baroness seemed also shocked by the news.

“There was a complication while Her Majesty was delivering.”

The Baron paced around the room. He snapped around.

“Delivering?”

“Yes, milord,” the messenger bowed his head, “Her Majesty has gifted the kingdom with twin princes.”

The Baron’s face went pale, and his jaw dropped. The Baroness gasped.

“Twin sons, you say? And Her Majesty has passed away?”

After delivering the rest of the Royal Order, the messenger was ushered away to a guest room to rest. The kingdom was to go into three months of mourning for the loss of the queen, and then two months of celebration for the births of the twin princes. At the end of each period, the heads of each noble house across the kingdom were to attend the respective ceremony at the Royal Palace.

We sat there, flabbergasted. We had the old priest barge into the manor’s compound and scream about great trouble before collapsing to his death. Then a freaking meteorite fell in the garden, nearly killing me in the process. Then now, a message came saying Her Majesty has passed away. What a night, I thought.

The Baron was sitting in his chair, hunched forward. He was pulling his hair out. The Baroness was trying to comfort him, but clearly, the Baron was too stressed.

“Something troubles Your Lordship?” The majordome asked.

“Twins! Twin sons!” The Baron raised his head and looked at each of us. “Mark my words, it means trouble. This is what the good old priest meant! Twins, my God, why!”

At that time, I didn’t quite understand what the Baron meant. What was so wrong about twin princes?

It was nearly the morning when the chief maid brought in the baby and bowed to the Baron. Wrapped in clean clothes and put on a ridiculously large soft cushion, it was sleeping peacefully.

“My Lord, may I inquire Your Lordship’s intention regarding this baby?”

“How is he?”

“It is she, My Lord.”

“Is she well? Has she been fed?” The Baroness butted in. The chief maid looked troubled.

“My Lady, I am afraid there is no one in this manor currently producing milk.”

For a brief moment, a look of shame and self-loathing passed over the Baroness’s face. She sighed and looked around.

“We cannot possibly starve a baby.”

I stepped forward.

“My mother. She produces milk as she currently rears my baby brother.”

The baby stirred.

The Baron and his wife exchanged glances. The Baron cleared his throat.

“If the kind mother would not mind, I shall beg her to share some of her… produce.”

“Yes, My Lord. I am most certain mother would be more than happy to-”

My voice must have woken her up. The baby started to fuss. Before anyone could react, the Baroness jumped up and took the baby girl out of the chief maid’s arms. She carried the girl tenderly and paced around the room, cooing and singing softly.

While she was passing before me, the baby finally opened her eyes for the first time, and I nearly soiled my pants. Those eyes. The eyes! The ever-changing reflection of the light as if the iris was made of thick black oil. Then it dawned on me; I had misunderstood. The goddesses were not trying to kill me. There were no other places Firis could go, for I was THE anchor. I was the one who pulled the meteorite on me because I was the focal point of the collective divine efforts to send Firis down to the world of mortals. It all made sense now. The Baron was wrong; the poor old priest wasn’t talking about the twin princes. He was talking about Firis coming, and although he had no idea who Firis was, he had seen what she represented. And she was here now. The dying goddess actually came down here. On me.

I was stunned, but quickly regained my composure and put on a straight face. The baby’s eyes were locked onto me, and I stared back. ‘So, this is how it shall be?’

The baby stopped fussing. The Baroness sat down in her chair and was playing with the tiny fingers, and the smile she had on her face was just pure bliss to anyone lucky enough to have witnessed it. The Baron was watching her with twinkling eyes, and I could see his shoulders heaving up and down emotionally.

“My Lord, feeding her is one thing, but what shall we do about her?” The chief maid inquired once again.

The Baron walked over and stood next to his wife. He put his hand on the Baroness’s shoulder and gently squeezed, and the Lady looked up with tearful eyes and gave the nod. The Baron faced us and beamed a huge smile.

“I shall name her Anna. Anna La Rose. Of the Roseland.”