5. Karn

5

KARN

I climb the stairs from my workshop, muscles aching from a long day at the forge. The scent of roasting meat and herbs hits me first, then the sound of giggling.

"Hold still," Luna commands with all the authority a two year old can muster.

"Yes, we're making you pretty," Nova adds, her tiny hands clutching sections of Mira's dark hair.

Mira sits cross-legged on a cushion by the hearth, stirring something in the pot while the twins perch behind her on chairs. Her long brown hair falls like silk between their small fingers as they attempt to weave it into what I assume are meant to be braids. The firelight catches the strands, turning them to liquid amber.

"Of course, my little artists." Mira's voice carries that gentle patience I've never mastered. She doesn't flinch when Luna tugs too hard, just keeps stirring with steady movements.

I lean against the doorframe, not wanting to interrupt. The twins have tangled most of her hair into uneven knots rather than braids, but Mira doesn't seem to mind. My fingers twitch with an unfamiliar urge to smooth those dark strands myself, to feel if they're as soft as they look.

"Uncle Karn!" Nova spots me first. "We're making Mira beautiful."

"More beautiful," Luna corrects, tongue stuck out in concentration as she wrestles with a particularly stubborn section.

"She doesn't need help with that," I mutter before I can stop myself. Heat creeps up my neck when Mira's green eyes meet mine, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.

"You can help too," Nova declares, patting the space beside her. "Your fingers are bigger."

I shake my head, keeping my distance. "I'd just mess it up. These hands are better with metal than hair." I flex my scarred fingers to prove the point.

"Nonsense." Mira's voice is soft but firm. "Everyone can learn."

The twins cheer their agreement, and suddenly I'm being pulled forward by two sets of tiny hands, their violet eyes - so like my own - sparkling with mischief.

The twins maneuver me onto a cushion beside Mira. Her scent - herbs and fresh bread - mingles with the woodsmoke. I try to focus on Luna's detailed instructions about proper hair-braiding technique instead of how close Mira's shoulder is to mine.

"Like this, Uncle Karn." Luna separates a section of dark silk into two parts. "Over and under."

My fingers feel clumsy next to their small ones. I'm used to shaping metal, not handling something this delicate. A strand slips through my grasp.

"Here." Mira reaches up, her fingers brushing mine as she guides them back to her hair. "Start at the roots and work down slowly."

The contact sends a jolt through my chest. I clear my throat. "Sorry if I pull too hard."

"You won't." Her voice carries absolute certainty. "You're gentler than you think."

Nova hums a tune their mother used to sing while she works on her section. The familiar melody makes my throat tight. Mira picks it up after a few bars, her voice rich and warm as mulled wine.

"You know that song?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

"It's an old lullaby. I heard it before..." She trails off, tension creeping into her shoulders. I recognize that look - memories best left buried.

"Our mama sang it," Luna announces, breaking the moment. "Uncle Karn, you're doing it wrong again."

I've somehow tangled three sections into a knot. "Told you I'm better with metal."

"No quitting," Nova declares, pointing her tiny finger at me. "Practice makes perfect."

Mira laughs, the sound loosening something in my chest. "They're strict teachers."

"Worse than my old forge master." I manage to untangle the mess I've made. "Though he never offered to make me 'beautiful.'"

"We can do your hair next!" Luna's eyes light up.

"No." I grab my tied-back hair protectively. "This is staying exactly as it is."

"Please?" Both twins deploy their best pleading expressions.

"I think you'd look quite fetching with braids," Mira adds, and there's a teasing glint in her green eyes that makes my pulse skip.

"Maybe later." I look around Mira. "Is dinner ready?"

She gives me a look like she knows exactly what I'm doing, but she nods. "Yeah. Can you get the girls settled?"

"Come on, troublemakers." I scoop up both twins, one under each arm. They squeal and kick their legs as I carry them to the table. "Time to eat."

"I want the blue bowl," Luna announces as I set them in their chairs.

"No, I want blue!" Nova's lower lip trembles.

"You had blue yesterday." I tap her nose. "Your turn for green."

Mira glides between us with steaming bowls of stew, rich with root vegetables and tender meat. Her movements are precise, practiced - like a dancer avoiding invisible obstacles. She sets the blue bowl in front of Luna and the green one before Nova.

Nova peers into her bowl, pushing the vegetables around with her spoon. "Don't like orange things."

"Zynthras make you see in the dark," I tell her, spooning up my own dinner.

"Don't need zynthras. Got magic." Nova scrunches her nose. A zynthra chunk rises from her bowl, hovering at eye level.

"Nova." I use my warning voice. "Food stays in bowls."

She grins. The zynthra spins lazily in the air, joined by two more pieces. "They're dancing!"

"Nova!" But it's too late. More vegetables float upward, creating a small parade above our heads.

Luna claps her hands. "Make them go faster!"

"No, don't-" The vegetables shoot across the kitchen like tiny projectiles. I duck as a zynthra whizzes past my ear.

Mira laughs - actually laughs - and reaches up to snatch a floating quillnash chunk. "Got one!"

The twins turn it into a game, jumping up to catch the runaway vegetables. Their giggles echo off the walls as they chase their dinner around the room. Even I can't help grinning as Mira gracefully plucks another carrot from the air.

"Uncle Karn, catch!" Nova directs a piece of meat toward my face. I snap it out of the air with my teeth, making both girls shriek with delight.

"My turn!" Luna bounces on her toes, pointing at a floating zynthra.

"No more playing." I try to sound stern but fail. "Food goes in mouths, not air."

"But they're happier up there," Nova insists, watching her handiwork with pride.

The kitchen becomes a battlefield of flying produce, but I can't take my eyes off Mira. Her careful movements transform into something fluid and free as she spins to catch another carrot. The firelight catches in her hair - still a mess from the twins' attempts at braiding - and her green eyes sparkle with genuine joy.

"Look, I got three!" She holds up her prizes, performing a mock bow that sends the twins into fresh peals of laughter. "Whatever you catch, you eat. Who can catch the most?"

"Four!" Luna announces, stuffing her captured vegetables into her mouth all at once. Her cheeks puff out like a chipmunk's.

"Small bites," I remind her, but my heart's not in the scolding. Not when Nova's directing a quillnash to do loop-de-loops around Mira's head while she pretends to chase it.

"Almost..." Mira jumps, her fingers just missing the chunk. "So close!"

Something warm unfurls in my chest watching her play with them. The careful mask she usually wears has slipped away, replaced by flushed cheeks and bright eyes. She looks younger, unburdened. Beautiful.

"Uncle Karn's staring," Nova stage-whispers to Luna, making Mira stumble mid-reach.

I clear my throat. "Just making sure no one breaks anything." The words come out gruffer than intended.

"We're being careful!" Luna waves her arms, accidentally sending a zynthra straight for my head. I catch it before it can connect.

"Very careful," I say dryly, but can't help smiling when Mira muffles a snort behind her hand.

She catches my eye across the chaos, and for a moment everything else fades away. The warmth in my chest spreads, settling deep in my bones like the comfort of a forge fire on a cold day.

A zynthra bouncing off my nose breaks the spell.

"Got you!" Nova claps her hands in delight, and all the vegetables still airborne drop at once. Mira's quick reflexes save the pot from a direct hit by a particularly enthusiastic quillnash.

We manage to make it through dinner and bathtime without another incident - or as little as can be expected with two demon two year olds. I take up my post at the door after, watching as Mira tells a new bedtime story about vegetables attacking a castle.

I lean against the doorframe, watching Mira tuck the blankets around each girl. Her movements are precise but tender, smoothing wrinkles and adjusting pillows until everything's just right.

"Another story?" Luna asks through a yawn, her copper curls spread across the pillow like a fan.

"Tomorrow, little light." Mira kisses her forehead. "Sleep now."

Nova reaches up with grabby hands. "Kiss for me too."

"Of course." Mira obliges, then brushes Nova's matching curls back from her face. "Sweet dreams."

"Mira?" Luna's violet eyes are heavy with sleep, but her voice carries that particular tone that means she's working up to something important.

"Yes?"

"Are you staying with us forever?"

My breath catches. The question I've been too much of a coward to ask myself hangs in the air. The house feels different with her here - warmer somehow, more complete. The thought of going back to fumbling through each day alone, of the twins losing another person they love...

"I..." Mira's hand stills on Nova's blanket. Even from here, I can see the slight tremor in her fingers.

Nova's eyes open fully. "Please stay. You make the best stories. And Uncle Karn smiles more."

Heat creeps up my neck at that observation. Leave it to a two-year-old to lay bare what I've been trying to ignore.

Mira's shoulders tense, and I recognize the look that crosses her face - like a trapped animal searching for escape routes. The same expression she wore when she first stumbled into my forge, desperate and haunted.

I want to step in, to tell the twins not to pressure her. But I find myself frozen, heart pounding as I wait for her answer. When did her presence become as essential as the air in my lungs?

"I hope to be here for a while longer," she finally whispers.

And I turn away, ignoring the stab of disappointment at her words.