Lady of the Veiled Vale

Kevin

The T'sa Ina'i who met him this time was not anyone he recognized. It was a young male with very red hair. If he had to guess, he would place him in his teenage years.

   "Aye, sir, I was born when Gwinna was but twelve."

   He guessed the boy to be her younger, adopted brother. "The name's Kevin, though 'twas not what me mother named me at birth. Gwinna doesn't recall what 'twas, so she says."

   This, too, was no ordinary T'sa Ina'i. Most of them did not offer information so freely.

   "I'll spare ye the treatment Mother heaped on her, this once. Ye look worse fer wear, so we'll walk a gentler Path tonight."

   Raiden followed Kevin through shrouded memories, until they reached a point closer to the beginning of her T'sa Unai (or end, depending on how you approached it). The mists parted around the yard of a modest hut. It was approaching nighttime, and a short, hooded figure was huddled on the steps. She was clutching a bundle to her breast.

   "Is this the night I think it is?" Raiden asked. Kevin nodded. It was the night he was born.

   The rail thin woman knocked on the door, which was promptly opened by a child too young to be out past dusk. Raiden looked for the manor that must be nearby, but it was nowhere to be seen. His anger at her mother rose, but the T'sa Ina'i poked him into attentiveness.

   "'Course I kin take him in, Irene!" Gwinneth was saying.

   "Bless you, child!" Irene passed the limp bundle to the girl, wretched hope emblazoned on her face. She waited, watching both children avidly. The girl was scarcely taller than the woman.  Raiden held his breath, waiting to see the moment her powers manifested.

   Gwinneth held the baby to her meager chest, and he saw the tears she had spoken of, her first day in the Sanctuary. When the first tear splashed on the babe's face, it twitched. Both males watching leaned forward. Another tear wet his face, and the blue baby drew his first shuddering breath.

   Irene fled, tears streaming down her own face. Her tears were joyful, though. She knew her baby would live!

   The demigod who watched also had tears leaking from his eyes, though he did not notice them. He and the boy followed the little girl back to the manor, curious to see the whole of the transformation. Just as she said, she cried and rocked the infant. What she did not say was how his breathing gradually evened out, and he fell into a perfectly healthy sleep. She dozed fitfully, as well, scrunched up in her nanny's old rocking chair.

   Baby Kevin stirred, probably hungry or wet. Gwinneth snapped awake just before his eyes opened. When they did, she visibly relaxed. "If you want, you can be my brother," she offered the babe. "I always wanted a brother, you know. That's why I've got my imaginary friend: to be my little brother. Now that you're here, you can have his name. You don't mind, do you Kevin?"

   Raiden followed her eyes to the corner of the room, and what he'd assumed to be a coat rack. What crept into the firelight, however, was no coat.

   It was a gargoyle.

   The shock nearly knocked him out of the trance, and onto his arse again. His curiosity was the only thing that kept the link open.

   "No, miss, I don't mind having the hatchling share my name."

   Gwinneth giggled. "You have a funny way of saying things. So, hatchling, do you like the name Kevin?"

   Just as she said, the baby gurgled happily. He reached for her face, the very picture of health. Gwinn laughed with him, and took the bottle of sheep's milk that the gargoyle Kevin handed her.