It began not with magic, but with crying.
A faint, high-pitched wail pierced the stillness beneath the great mana tree. Lucretia blinked awake, tangled in a shimmering, overly fluffy blanket that sparkled faintly when moved. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, staring blankly at the ceiling of her gently glowing house. Another cry followed. Then another. Then four.
"...Oh no. It's happening," Lucretia mumbled, bolting up. "The babypocalypse has begun."
Outside, soft light filtered through the leaves. The twelve cribs lined up in a radiant nursery, each delicately woven from mana thread and floating slightly above the ground. Lucretia had made them herself, with love, with care, and with an overestimation of how quiet babies were supposed to be.
The babies had been born only days ago. Not from wombs, but from the mana tree itself, born of Lucretia's longing and power, shaped by dreams and soul fragments. They came into being as infants, nestled in glowing orbs that drifted down like blessings from the branches above.
Each child was unique, each carrying a different echo of light and mana. But right now, all twelve had one thing in common: they were very, very loud.
Wildan arrived moments later, hair a mess, eyes half-lidded.
"I heard screaming. Yours or theirs?"
"Definitely theirs. Maybe mine soon," Lucretia muttered, fumbling with a bottle of warm milk enchanted not to spill. She levitated it toward the nearest crib. "Look! Bottle! Milk! Shh now, sweetie."
Baby Kyle responded by hurling his pacifier at Wildan's face.
"...Okay, maybe Kyle first," Wildan said grimly, catching the pacifier midair and placing it back.
Kyle, the blue-haired menace, giggled. Then, somehow, pulled one of Wildan's black feathers straight from his wing.
"Ow."
"Gah! No plucking the babysitter!" Lucretia scolded, gently prying Kyle's tiny fingers open. The feather floated upward, then burst into harmless sparkles.
Adiw, in the next crib, took this as an invitation to punch Wildan's leg.
"He's strong for a baby," Wildan muttered, rubbing his shin.
"He's got the berserker genes," Lucretia said proudly.
"He doesn't even have genes. He has dream essence."
"Exactly!" She gave Wildan a thumbs up. "Dreamy strength."
In a far corner of the room, baby Jessica hid her face with both hands. Her pale lavender hair shimmered as she peeked from between fingers. Any noise made her flinch. A little sneeze made her hiccup and look even more alarmed.
"Aww, shy bean," Lucretia cooed. She gently lifted Jessica and swaddled her in a fluffy blanket with a glowing duck pattern. "You're safe. No chaos here. Just snuggles."
Jessica snuggled deeper into the blanket.
Meanwhile, Fahleena rolled in her crib, giggling without a care in the world. She batted at the floating mana mobile above her, a spiraling chuunibyou-style construct of tiny dragons and sparkles. Her twin pink pigtails bounced with every motion.
"Behold! The Glorious Morning of Destiny!" Lucretia announced in a dramatic whisper, cradling Fahleena. "You will one day throw key-shaped weapons and shout incomprehensible spells!"
Wildan sighed. "She can barely hold her foot."
"Details," Lucretia said.
Yuuna, meanwhile, was perfectly silent. The black-haired infant lay on her back, staring at the ceiling with expressionless calm. When Wildan approached her crib, she turned her head ever so slightly.
"She's... unnerving," Wildan said.
"She's just thinking very deeply. Probably calculating our sleep schedules for optimal chaos," Lucretia said.
"She's a baby."
"A mysterious baby."
Wildan conjured a simple illusionary book, just light and memory shaped into pages, and floated it down into Yuuna's crib. She blinked once, then reached out and clumsily patted the glowing cover.
"Okay. That's both cute and weird," he admitted.
As the morning wore on, the other babies stirred. Sinryo tried to pull Gigih's blanket. Gigih responded by squealing and kicking both feet, sending tiny mana sparks into the air.
"No casting! No casting!" Lucretia quickly waved her hands and dispelled the sparks before the floating lanterns ignited.
Sakura was curled up like a kitten, snoring softly, drooling slightly. Her pink hair puffed adorably around her.
"She's dreaming of food," Wildan noted, pointing at her sleep-murmur.
"Must protect her dreams," Lucretia agreed solemnly.
Gaby, with her calm demeanor, lay quietly in her crib, holding a plush bird. Yetsan flailed a bit before sneezing, then fell back asleep. Orchid, even as a baby, had somehow tangled herself in a blanket and was giggling aimlessly at a floating feather.
"Is she drooling on her sword again?" Wildan asked.
"No sword yet. Just a plush sword-shaped pillow. But yes, she's drooling."
By midday, things had quieted. Most babies were napping. Wildan, exhausted, collapsed on a nearby couch.
"I'm going to build my house farther away," he muttered.
Lucretia, now rocking a giggling Fahleena, looked offended. "What, you don't like the sound of twelve tiny chaos bombs going off at once?"
"I like the sound of one nap."
"You're such a grump, Uncle Wildan."
"I'm not their uncle."
"Yes you are. Universe said so."
"Where did the universe say that?"
Lucretia pointed upward. "Somewhere. Probably."
That evening, after feeding, burping, changing, re-feeding, singing, changing again, and conjuring three more plush toys, Lucretia sat on the edge of her bed. Twelve cribs shimmered gently around the room. The house smelled faintly of lavender, warm milk, and... mana.
She gazed at the babies. Fahleena kicked her blanket off again. Yuuna still stared. Kyle somehow had feathers in both fists. Jessica had rolled herself into a perfect blanket burrito.
Lucretia chuckled softly. "Just normal babies for now."
She didn't know what they would become. Heroes, explorers, scholars, goofballs. Or maybe just happy kids in a happy world. But they were hers. Not by blood, not by tradition, but by choice, by dream, by love.
And one by one, as the stars peeked through the mana tree's branches, the world grew warmer.
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