My Awe

WHISPERS IN THE FAMILY

Chapter Three

Uncle Varin’s house was larger than Zeiya’s childhood home, built of stone and timber, with walls that seemed to hold secrets as old as the forest itself. That morning, the air was filled with the aroma of baked bread and the chatter of children.

Zeiya sat by the window with her younger sister Kixa, watching the golden light filter through the branches outside. Kixa leaned against her, humming a song only she seemed to know. Zeiya stroked her sister’s hair, her heart warming at the thought that Kixa’s beauty and innocence were the only light in these uncertain days.

Before long, her cousins burst into the room.

Joren, the eldest, carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone who wanted to be respected, though his eyes often lingered on Zeiya with a mix of admiration and envy. “You shouldn’t sit idle, Zeiya,” he teased. “Come spar with me. Or are you afraid I’ll best you?”

Zeiya gave him a calm smile. “I’m afraid you’d trip over your own pride before you even touched me.”

Kixa giggled, and even Joren laughed despite himself. But Zeiya noticed the flicker of something in his expression-a hidden frustration, as though he measured himself against her and always found himself wanting.

Selene, the middle cousin, sat on the floor beside Zeiya. Her curious eyes gleamed as she whispered, “Is it true that you’ve seen the healer? Mama Anavami?”

Zeiya froze. “How did you know?”

Selene shrugged. “Word travels. People say she only takes notice when someone is special.”

Zeiya shifted uncomfortably, but before she could reply, Taris, the youngest cousin, bounded into the room with a wooden toy sword. He poked Zeiya’s arm. “When I’m older, I’ll guard you from the king’s men!”

Everyone laughed, though the mention of the king tightened Zeiya’s chest.

Later, while the family gathered for a meal, Uncle Varin observed Zeiya quietly. His wife, Aunt Melara, tried to keep the mood light, offering warm bread and soft smiles, but Zeiya could sense the unspoken tension beneath the laughter. Everyone seemed to know more about her life than she did.

After the meal, Zeiya found her brother Mian sharpening a small blade outside. She sat beside him, the air cool against their skin.

“Do you ever wonder why everything feels… strange?” she asked softly. “Why people look at us differently?”

Mian paused, his jaw tightening. He didn’t meet her gaze. “I wonder,” he admitted. “But it doesn’t matter. Father and Mother do what they must. Our job is to trust them.”

Zeiya looked down at her hands. Trust. She wanted to. But the weight of Mama Anavami’s words still pressed against her heart.

That night, as she lay awake, the forest beyond Uncle Varin’s home seemed louder than usual. Every rustle of the leaves, every distant cry of an animal carried with it the echo of danger. She thought of Kixa’s gentle laugh, Mian’s protectiveness, her cousins’ questions, and Mama Anavami’s cryptic words.

The pieces did not yet fit together, but Zeiya knew one thing for certain: her life was not her own. And whatever secret her parents tried to bury, the world would not let it remain hidden forever.