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Tesilid sat before the fire in the small cabin he and Ailette had called home for over three years now. It felt as though they had moved in only yesterday, and yet… He looked down at the small bundle of humanity resting in his arms. Ailette slept soundly in the loft above. Little Agnes gazed up at him with bright green eyes, her cotton‑candy‑pink hair haloed around her head like a nest of electrified rose‑silk spider threads. She was the very image of her mother. His heart ached with all the unfamiliar emotions she stirred within him. He loved her. From the moment Ailette had placed her in his arms for the first time, something inside him had shattered—and something new had begun to bloom.
He had never admitted it to his wife, but he had hated this tiny life with a fervor. During the pregnancy, every time Ailette suffered, and during the birth, when she endured hours of pain—fighting and struggling more fiercely than she ever had against demon lords or Reed himself. All the torment this little being had put her through. Every second of it, he had battled to honor her wish, to let things run their course. To not free his wife from this tormentor, this intruder who threatened their perfect life as two—and erase it.
How right she had been, his strong, wise wife.
He would be grateful to her for the rest of his days for giving him this small joy. This living proof of their bond. This little piece of Ailette that would remain even when she was gone. A gentle, radiant smile softened his face. Agnes smiled back. Exactly like her mother. Whenever he smiled at her, she smiled in return. Everything had changed now that she was here. Their lives revolved around Agnes—but, as he only understood now that he was a father, that was exactly how it should be. For her tiny life revolved entirely around him and Ailette as well. It was responsibility, yes, but also a gift whose true beauty he was only now beginning to grasp.
Even when she dirtied his clothes with spit‑up or when accidents happened during changing—he could not be angry with her. He did not even feel disgust. It was… fulfilling. She looked at him, and he knew he was her whole world. He was her father. A word that had meant nothing to him before, for he himself had never truly had one. His father‑in‑law had helped him understand it better, especially in those early weeks, when Ailette’s parents had helped them learn to care for the new life they had brought into the world. And now? Now Tesilid thanked the Voice that Shapes the World every day for this miracle.
Already she was asleep again—content and full, resting against his arm.
Tesilid’s thoughts drifted from Ailette’s parents to his own. To his mother.
He thought often of that distant, cursed family he had come from.
In the firelight, his eyes grew darker.
“There you are…” came Ailette’s soft voice, pulling him away from thoughts of Laviosa and Rigares. “Your daughter looks rather pleased with herself, Papa,” she murmured with a smile as she wrapped her arms around him from behind. Her slender, strong arms slipped gently around his neck. Her warmth was lovelier than the heat of the fire, for it reached his very soul with ease.
He let out a quiet laugh—a soft sound he had only learned after Agnes was born. After their family was born.
“What are you thinking about, my love?” she asked.
“Laviosa,” he answered truthfully. He lied to Ailette only rarely—like during the pregnancy. Even then, it was omission more than deceit.
“Again? What exactly are you thinking about?” she asked, serious now, as she settled into the second chair by the fire. He looked down at Agnes.
“I’m wondering whether what happened in other lives still needs to have meaning for me—this is my last life, and…”
He fell silent. And what? Did he want to forgive her? Could he even do that? The mere sight of her still made his stomach twist, sometimes even break him into a sweat.
And yet… there was this thought.
Had she felt for him what he now felt for Agnes?
Had there truly been someone—besides Ailette—who had loved him so completely, stood at his side, and would have done anything for him—and only the schemes of the Evil God (as Strict Order and Goodness was now commonly called) had twisted and mutilated both their fates?
How would he feel if he learned that Agnes had once been among the creatures he, as Reed, had tortured and slaughtered without mercy? In another life he could no longer change? And Agnes looked upon him with fear and disgust?
It would be… the worst thing. Worse than death. Perhaps not worse than losing Ailette—but close behind it.
“And?” Ailette asked gently.
“And family. What it means—what it doesn’t mean. What it would be like if… I were in her place, and Agnes in mine,” he admitted.
“That will never happen. Agnes has no previous lives, and you will have no future ones,” she said matter‑of‑factly.
“I know…” he murmured with a faint smile.
“And that isn’t what you’re truly talking about…” she added quietly.
“No…”
“You’re wondering if it might be… possible to make peace with her.”
He only nodded.
“Well, she hasn’t done a single thing wrong in this life since learning who you are and what happened. She truly has changed. Rigares as well—though he’s still a colossal nuisance,” she conceded.
“That still doesn’t mean you owe anyone anything.”
He nodded again. He knew that.
“But… it’s the only chance I’ll ever have to… find out,” he said softly, almost uncertain.
Ailette took his hand.
“Whatever you decide, I will always stand at your side,” she said. The words warmed him, just as they always did.
A few weeks later, Laviosa lifted a plain letter with no sender—only the seal of the Church.
When she unfolded it and began to read, her eyes widened… then filled with tears.
Long after they had ceased to fall, she continued to stare at the letter as though it were a miracle, whispering a silent prayer to the Voice that Shapes the World.
Thank you… for this chance.