The thunder was still rolling.
Even beneath layers of stone and storm-tempered walls, the roar of the heavens echoed like divine judgment. But within the candlelit chamber, warm with sweat, blood, and breath, another sound rose against it—
A cry.
Her child's first cry.
"Ah... ahhh—"Lara gasped, her fingers trembling as they clutched her husband's hand, knuckles white from the strain of labor. Her legs were weak, her body drenched in exhaustion, but her heart was still hammering. She had done it.
The agony had passed. The weight was gone. But something greater had taken its place.
She turned her head, golden strands of hair clinging to her pale face."Is it a she…?" Her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.
She spoke in a language that sounded nothing like any of the ones on Kaito's Earth. This dialect was Jotun, the language of the giants.
The maidservant, still slick with blood up to her elbows, lifted the swaddled bundle gently from between Lara's legs and held it up beneath the flickering oil-lamp.
A breathless pause. Then, the maid smiled. "It's a girl, milady."
Lara exhaled a sob she hadn't realized she was holding.
Her husband, Gareth, a tall man with silver-streaked hair and broad shoulders hardened by years of patrol duty, leaned in close. His violet eyes were brimming—unusual for a man so stoic.
"A girl…" he murmured, as if speaking it aloud would make it even more real.
Lara's lips trembled as she smiled, weak and radiant. "She's beautiful…"
The child wailed again, small lungs fighting the air of the cursed city outside. She was red-faced, angry, slick with the blood of birth—yet even as she cried, there was something vivid in her. A light that shone just as bright as her mother's.
The maidservant named Mila, brought her forward, cradling the child delicately in arms trained by countless births and even miscarriages.
Lara reached out, brushing trembling fingers across the baby's cheek."She's so warm," she whispered, as if surprised by it. "Like a tiny flame."
Gareth was still kneeling beside her, one hand gripping hers, the other resting on her shoulder. "What shall we name her?"
Lara paused, struck by the weight of that question. In the City of Silver, names were not given lightly. They were inspired from history, given by a prayer, and represented a form of protection.
But even as the thought formed, a word rose in the back of her heart unbidden—alien, sharp, and absurdly seductive. The name entered her mind lightning fast, but disappeared as quickly as it had entered.
"Capella," she breathed. "Let's call her Capella."
The name rolled off her tongue like it had always been there.
The storm outside crackled again, louder this time. Mila stiffened, eyes darting toward the window slit. But Gareth only smiled.
"Capella…" he echoed. "You will forever be the brightest in the sky, even when all others fade."
Mila hesitated and looked at Gareth. "That's… not much of a traditional name, sir."
"No," Lara agreed softly, staring at her child. "But it's the perfect one for her."
Gareth looked to his wife, then to the child, and rose. "Let me hold her."
Mila bowed slightly and passed the baby into his arms.
His movements were careful but reverent. Gareth, a man who had slain mutated beasts in the wastes, who had fought off the madness of the spirits in the old catacombs, now held the tiny life with hands as gentle as falling snow.
Capella opened her eyes—briefly. Twin orbs of glassy purple met his.
For a moment, it seemed like the whole world paused and it was just the two of them. A tear began streaked down the side of Gareth's cheek.
"I swear on my honor as Vice-Captain of the City Of Silver's exploration team that I will do everything in my power to protect you under the guidance of the Omnipotent and Omniscient God." His voice was as resound as the lightning outside - and with these words said, an unknown force bonded the two of them together for life.
His proclamation reached everybody's hearts, and would be a moment that they always remembered, along with the birth of the new addition to their family.
Capella.
***
From Kaito's point of view, he was still partially disoriented and confused from the blinding light in his eyes. And what sounded like incoherent ramblings in his ears did not help the situation either.
With all of these things overstimulating his entire mind, he began to give in to the natural urge to cry.
After about five minutes of wailing, he finally tired himself out and passed out right in his father's arms.