Page 42 of The First Child
“This is…” Sylas trails off, studying the image with the kind of intensity he usually reserves for spiritual meditation.
“The moment I knew,” I finish quietly. “That this wasn’t just temporary custody or a convenient partnership. That we were a family, even if it took us weeks to admit it.”
“It’s perfect.” His voice carries emotion that makes the crystal around my neck pulse with sympathetic resonance. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for giving me something worth photographing.”
He sets the image carefully on the shelf where it catches the light from both the Christmas tree and the bioluminescent panels, creating a display that honors both our cultures while celebrating the family we’ve created together.
Didyou enjoy THE FIRST CHILD? Please be awesomesauce and leave a review at your retailer of choice. Reviews are like little snippets of happiness that motivate authors to write even MORE amazing books!
Be sure you grab the rest of the holiday Starlight Christmas series featuring Zephyrians and the humans who love them today!
The Starlight Matrix by Celia Kyle, Elin Wyn & Ava York - FREE!
Starlight, Starbright by Elin Wyn
Nebula Hearts by Ava York
The First Child by Celia Kyle - THIS BOOK!
EPILOGUE
HADA
One Year Later…
The knock on our door comes at exactly the moment when Aniska decides that walking is more interesting than sitting still, which means I chase our newly mobile daughter around furniture while trying to prevent her from dismantling the Christmas decorations through sheer enthusiastic exploration.
“Sylas,” I call toward the kitchen, where my husband is preparing our traditional fusion feast with the methodical precision that characterizes his approach to everything. “Could you get that?”
“Of course.” He emerges wearing an apron that somehow manages to look dignified despite being covered in flour and what appears to be bioluminescent seasoning. “Aniska, come to Papa.”
Our daughter abandons her assault on the lower branches of our Christmas tree in favor of toddling toward Sylas with the unsteady determination of someone who’s walked for exactly three weeks and finds the whole process endlessly entertaining.Her empathic abilities have stabilized beautifully over the past year, developing into something that enhances rather than overwhelms her daily experience.
The visitor at our door turns out to be Dr. Cuzzort, carrying a wrapped package and wearing an expression that suggests this isn’t entirely a social call.
“Dr. Cuzzort,” Sylas greets her with the formal courtesy that emerges when he’s uncertain about someone’s intentions. “This is unexpected.”
“I hope you don’t mind the intrusion. I was on New Eden for the holiday research conference, and I wanted to see how you’re all doing.” Her gaze moves to where Aniska clings to Sylas’s leg, studying the newcomer with the focused attention she reserves for interesting strangers. “My goodness, she’s grown.”
“Eighteen months old and into everything,” I say, moving to stand beside my family with the unconscious protectiveness that still emerges whenever authority figures appear at our door. “Walking, climbing, developing opinions about everything from food preferences to nap schedules.”
