Page 304 of May: Bloom & Bane

“That’s it, ílyen,” we murmur. “Again.”

Our hands slip lower, desperate to help however we can. She gives another big push, and something brushes against our fingertips.

We freeze.

“... Sage, I can feel her. I can feel our daughter.”

“I can feel her too,” he cries.

“Keep pushing, mamé,” we murmur, coaching her through the next contraction. “We’ll catch her.”

Another cry rips through her as she bears down. Her hand slides into our hair, yanking hard.

More of our daughter presses into our waiting hands.

“She’s almost there, ílyen. You’re doing so good. We’re so proud of you.”

“One more big push,” Lumi says.

She gives everything she has left. A cry rips from her throat.

“That’s it,” we whisper. “That’s our girl.”

The pressure gives way in a sudden, impossible release. Our daughter’s tiny weight settles into our trembling hands. Nestled in our palms rests a smooth green cradle, its surface shimmering with dew-dropped veins. Tiny petals along the top begin to quiver…

… and slowly unfurl.

“Why isn’t she crying?” Eden whispers.

Time, as we know it, stops. The petals peel back one by one, revealing impossibly soft green skin. One tiny hand emerges first. Five perfect fingers lazily flex in the cool air. Then another.

“Sage? Ash?” Eden whispers, panic trembling beneath every syllable.

“... She’s so beautiful, Eden.”

We carefully lift Vaelína’s tiny green flower pod and lay it against Eden’s chest. The petals bloom wider with each frantic beat of Eden’s heart, revealing more of our daughter. She looks like she was sculpted to fit perfectly inside our hands. Every ounce of her looks like it was deposited perfectly into her little round cheeks.

“Oh my god,” she sobs. “She’s okay.”

Can you believe something this small and perfect chose us? I ask.

No, Sage whispers. But I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure I deserve her.

Her skin is the same rich green as Sage’s, still glistening from birth. Small damp copper curls cling stubbornly to her perfectly round head.

“Eden, she has your hair,” we choke out, laughter and tears tangling in one breath. Vaelína gives a tiny stretch. The petals open wider, revealing the smallest little wing buds tucked against her shoulders, barely more than soft sprouts. They twitch once. Her eyes open, and our heart clenches. One brilliant violet eye. One endless black. Pieces of me, and Sage, staring back at us.

Just above her tiny heart, a translucent patch no bigger than a thumbprint gleams in the morning light. Beneath it… a tiny golden heart flickers.

Flick. Flick. Flick.

“That’s what I saw on the ultrasound,” I rasp. “That little light.”

An inconceivably small shadow tendril reaches from Vaelína’s fist and wraps around Eden’s finger.

Eden laughs through tears. “Well, hello my little clover.”

CHAPTER 92