Mirage is heavier than she should be. Her belly distends awkwardly, too full for her narrow frame, too much for my smaller sister - but so far she has been okay. I know that much from my cautious glances into her body, subtle inspections of biological workings that did not draw too much on the well of magic within me so as not to accidentally hurt her. Biologically she's sound, if strained. Tired. For a week I have scarcely left her side, and when I have been gone Kali maintained a constantly vigilant watch. But it is worth it, so worth it, to know that the life growing inside of her is vibrant and healthy.

Both of them.

Rishiiiii! Wake up!

"Hmm?" How long have I been asleep? Dead on my feet, I pry open heavy eyes, willing body and mind to respond to Kali's urgent calls. Her voice is concerned, an arcing whisper through a dense field of trees trying to drag me back to reality. "What is it, Brat?" I murmur affectionately, snorting to dislodge stray wisps of forelock from frail nostrils. For a moment I am lost in the contented realm of drowsy subconscious, mind falling back under a heavy wave of sleep. From a distant star on a far horizon I feel a tug, anxious and commanding, digging behind my eyes and urging me awake. Kali's mental voice penetrates my haze once more, and this time the words jolt me straight to wakefulness. Riiishi. Mirage is laying!

How long had I been asleep? Gold-dusted legs tingle as I spin my body around, suddenly aware that Mirage was not beside me. I couldn't have been out for long, but a glance at the sky betrays the truth, that the sky is falling and would soon give way to dawn. Under the anxious chattering of the pale gryphon I feel another call, a firm yet frightened voice that is easy to recognize by now. Kali senses it as well as I, and before I can respond she is in the air, crying out to Akaith as I follow from below, heart pounding faster than I would have dared to admit, fear for my sister and the life within her pushing adrenaline through wide veins.

Slender hocks push against soft grass, grinding my form to a halt as Mirage's figure falls, falls, slowly yet oh so fast. I watch with wide eyes, heart in my throat and body incapable of reacting, terrified for that split second as my little sister collapses beneath the weight of her children, the strain of their birth. It is the shock of her impact that stirs me at last, the sudden and unnatural jolt of flesh on floor; I stride forward, hurried steps lining me alongside the precious black bundle and lying me down, a long limbed moonbeam wrapped around the fragile shadow, supporting as much of her weight as I can, wishing against hope that I might take away her pain. "Hush, little sister, it will all be well. The Lady's watching from above, see? You just have to push, to bring your daughters out into the world - I've seen them, Miri. They're beautiful. Just like you." Deep whispers and caressing words, tones I would use when we traveled through unknown lands and I soothed my siblings into sleep, or told them stories of lands and magic far away. Does she remember, I wonder, as I look upon her laboring form. Can she even hear me?

From the depths of Mirage's womb does the first filly emerge, and I scarcely notice Torasin's arrival in the wonder of that moment. Dragon and equine, the mark of their parentage, she falls onto the ground in a mess of birthing fluids and blood. So much blood. Too much blood, I realize, even as the second child makes her descent. "Torasin," I call, and there is fear in my voice, fear in my eyes as I stare at the paint, all past grievances set aside in the wake of this impending disaster. I am unguarded. "Something is very wrong."

I can feel the magic tingling beneath inky hairs on the back of my neck, pressing forward and willing me to use it, calling for my consent. It does not need to ask twice. It's a feeling not unlike falling into water, the leap from my soul into hers; momentary weightlessness followed by a sudden descent, and at once we are one, and I can see her, all that she is and all she has been. Beautiful and strange, she stretches endlessly before me, the dark and glowing being that is my little sister; expansive, exquisite, pure. I can feel the life beside her, the children born into this world, Akaith's soul intertwined with Mirage's, Torasin as he waits nearby. I want to get lost in it, to fall away from reality and explore the endless realm of life.

Kali's claws bite into my back, an anchor and a sharp reminder of who I am, what I need to do. Gratitude rushes through me, love for the gryphon before I turn my attention to the biology that makes up my sweet little Mirage. Kali! I call, a mental cry that resounds in the sinews of my bones and the tissue of Mirage's delicate figure. Tell Kiba that the scales cut into her belly, that she's bleeding internally and it needs to be stopped. Silence, long, endless silence that leaves me breathless and tenderly hopeful, then Kali's soft purr. Torrrsin fixes.

Sure enough I can see the wounds beginning to knit, tissue weaving back together and blood cauterizing. I wish I could watch, to make sure that the wounds will mend and the bleeding stop, but I know that I must trust Torasin in this. There is nothing I can do for her physical being.

The return to my own body is a slamming, painful experience, and one I ignore for now. Blinking rapidly, shuddering against the feeling of physical sensation that floods through my entire body as though it has been asleep, I lift my head once more, peering over Mirage's body at the tiny children before her. "Look, Miri," I whisper into a flute-like ear. "Look at your little ones." Leaning over her petite body, I exhale softly onto the pair of fillies, eying them with onyx eyes and taking in their scent. My nieces, I realize, and the wave of love that encompasses me is magnified by Kali's exuberance, her untamed spirit reaching out to embrace the children into her flock. On soft paws she pads towards the twins, head lowered in curious amazement, a resonant purr seeping from her feline lungs. She watches them through eyes of blue and asks if she can keep the nestlings.

Laughing, I reply aloud, "Of course, little brat - they are our family." All of them are, really, everyone gathered here in this moment. Even Torasin. Even Vikram.

Something wet falls innocuously onto my chest, and for the first time, I realize that I am crying.