Three years had passed.
The small house by the sea had grown busier with time—its wooden floors worn smooth by bare feet, its walls warmed by laughter and the steady rhythm of daily life. The scent of Xena's herbal teas lingered in every corner now, mingling with dried sea salt and sun-warmed wood.
Xena herself had changed.
Her belly had grown round with new life, and she often sat near the open window with both hands resting there, humming softly to the child she had yet to meet. Her voice carried a calm strength now—no longer fragile, no longer afraid. The illness that once clung to her like a shadow had faded into memory.
Outside, the sea glittered endlessly.
But the child who once came from it had changed most of all.
Euryale was no longer a baby.
At four years old, he was tall for his age, slender and poised, moving with a quiet confidence that unsettled and comforted in equal measure. He never tripped over loose stones or stumbled over his own feet. He never reached out blindly. When he walked, it was as though the world already knew to make room for him.
Salah often joked—half-laughing, half-wondering—that Euryale had skipped the clumsy phase entirely.
"It's like you remember how to move," he once said, watching the boy step lightly across uneven rocks by the shore. "Like you've done this before."
Euryale had only smiled.
He helped Xena around the house with surprising maturity—sweeping the floor carefully, collecting herbs without bruising them, carrying small buckets of water from the well with steady hands. He never complained. Never asked why. His silence was gentle, never empty.
And when he laughed, it was soft—almost cautious—like laughter was something he was relearning.
Yet behind his eyes, there was always something watching.
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One morning, Xena was kneading dough when she paused suddenly.
Her hands froze.
She inhaled sharply, then laughed in surprise.
"Salah!" she called.
He hurried in from outside, worry already on his face. "What is it? Are you alright?"
She nodded quickly, smiling wide. "I'm fine. Just—"
She took his hand and placed it against her belly.
"The baby kicked."
For a heartbeat, Salah said nothing.
Then—
A small, firm thump pressed against his palm.
His eyes widened. "I felt that."
She laughed. "He's strong."
"Or stubborn," Salah said, grinning.
From the doorway, Euryale watched silently.
He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, and placed his small hand beside Salah's.
The air shifted.
Not dramatically. Just enough to be felt—like warmth passing through the room, like the house itself had taken a deep breath and settled.
The baby kicked again.
Xena gasped softly. "Oh—"
"It didn't hurt," she said quickly. "It just… felt like when an ant bite me"
Salah looked at Euryale.
The boy met his gaze, calm and steady.
"Did you feel that?" Xena whispered.
Euryale nodded once.
That evening, they sat beneath the stars.
Salah and Xena shared a wooden bench, her head resting against his shoulder. Euryale lay in the grass nearby, hands folded behind his head, watching the sky with unblinking focus.
The sea murmured below the cliffs.
"Do you ever wonder," Xena asked quietly, "where he really came from?"
Salah didn't answer at first.
He watched the boy—how still he was, how perfectly at ease beneath the vast sky.
"Sometimes," he said at last.
"I feel like he's more than a blessing," Xena continued. "Like he's waiting for something. Or someone."
Salah exhaled slowly. "I think he remembers things we never will. Things that don't belong to this world anymore."
She turned to him. "Does that frighten you?"
He shook his head. "No. Because whatever he was… he chose to be here."
He glanced at Euryale. "That's enough for me."
____________________________________
From the grass, Euryale stared at the stars.
He did not remember everything.
Not yet.
But sometimes, when he slept, memories bled through.
Flames tearing through the sky.A storm of light swallowing cities whole.A roar—his roar—power cracking the heavens as worlds fell silent.
He remembered choosing to burn.
Choosing to end.
And always—
The sound of the sea.
Calling him back.
Pulling him home.