Cire, wake up! How long do you plan on sleeping?" Sergei's teasing voice cut through the early morning quiet.
Cire opened his eyes to see his older brother leaning over his makeshift bed, green eyes bright with mischief. He wasn't sleeping—just lying there, listening to the muffled sounds of his family stirring in their cramped home. His back ached from the thin straw mattress and the worn blanket tangled around his legs.
"Shut up," Cire murmured with a crooked smile. "I'm awake, just not ready to face you, big goof."
Sergei chuckled and reached down to help him sit up. He steadied Cire's thin shoulders, guided him from his threadbare pajamas into his one decent set of clothes, and then positioned him gently into the creaking wooden chair. They made a good team—Cire's hands on the wheels, Sergei's steady arm ensuring he didn't tip.
Next came Todd, who slept just a few feet away on a pile of moss and bundled plants barely worthy of the word "bed." Sergei didn't bother with gentle nudges this time. He lunged onto Todd, eliciting a startled grunt.
"What the hell!" Todd sputtered, struggling to push Sergei off. "I swear to the Guardians, I'll beat you senseless!"
"Guardians don't listen to people like us," Sergei said, grinning. "They've got royals and nobles to coddle. With your face, you wouldn't get their blessing if you begged."
Cire couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing in the cramped room. Their banter was as regular as the mountain winds outside, a comforting ritual that momentarily made him forget his worries. Sergei was the family's backbone—confident and strong, as solid as the rocks he dug through. Todd wore a perpetual scowl, more reserved but fiercely protective. Between them, Cire felt both guarded and guilty that he couldn't help shoulder their burdens.
Cire steered his chair out of the small sleeping area. The wooden wheels creaked on rough floorboards as he entered the kitchen corner. His mother, Aira, stood near the hearth, stirring something in a chipped pot. She had a quiet grace, a beauty that seemed out of place in these harsh mountain valleys. Her gray eyes flicked up, meeting his, and she offered a soft smile. Even in rags, she held herself like a queen.
Cire inhaled the thin, cool air. Outside their cottage, the mountains of Rodarra stretched upward, sharp and unyielding. Work in the mines paid a fraction more in these northern regions—just enough to keep them scraping by. Sergei and Todd had started mining at twelve. They had no choice. Cire, paralyzed from the hips down since birth, couldn't help but feel like an extra burden, a weight this family had to carry uphill every single day.
The door swung open with a heavy thud, and Cire's father, Liam, stepped inside. His dark hair and beard were visible, thanks to the early light. He brushed a few stray flakes from his coat and fixed Cire with a stern but affectionate gaze.
"Don't start with that look, son," Liam said, voice echoing in the cramped space. "You keep us together. Every day your brothers and I go out there, we know we have someone worth fighting for. You're no deadweight—you're the reason we push on."
Cire felt his cheeks warm. Liam's words were like a safe harbor in a storm. Sergei offered a nod, Todd grunted, and Cire's chest tightened with gratitude."Now, don't cry, baby," Todd teased before getting a playful swat on the head from Sergei and a half-hearted shove from Liam.
Liam cleared his throat. "Enough. We've got a shift to catch." He glanced at Aira, then at his sons.…
The three men departed, their laughter trailing behind them like a faint promise. Cire tried to memorize that moment—his father's reassuring voice, Sergei's grin, Todd's gruff teasing—without knowing it would be the last peaceful morning they would ever share.