The days after Augustus's quiet observation of the rare calm settled into a gentle rhythm, each one a soft echo of the last. Dolores's small, determined footsteps became a familiar sound, a soft patter across the polished Luminarian floors, often accompanied by the bright chime of Aurené's laughter.
This particular afternoon found Eleonoré by the large, arched window of the living chambers, tending to a planter of pale, glowing star-lilies. The air carried the scent of the flowers, sweet and mild. Across the room, Aurené had built a sprawling city of iridescent blocks, taller than herself. Dolores, her shadow-dark hair absorbing the ambient light, moved through it like a tiny, silent phantom. She wasn't destroying it, not quite, but testing its limits with a curious touch. Her small hands patted a tower, making it wobble.
"Careful, Bibi," Aurené murmured, not with irritation, but with a patient, watchful concern. She moved closer, adjusting a teetering block. "It's for the little people."
Dolores looked up at Aurené, her dark eyes wide and unblinking, her presence a peculiar stillness that seemed to draw in the very sounds of the room around her. Then, a soft, almost imperceptible pulse emanated from her, a unique rhythm only felt by those near. She reached out a tiny hand and, with a soft gurgle of pure joy, patted Aurené's knee.
"Nene," Dolores said, her voice a sweet, clear sound, her only word, offered like a secret.
Aurené beamed, leaning down to embrace her small sister. "Yes, Nene is here."
Eleonoré watched them, a warm lightness blooming in her chest. These moments, these quiet scenes of childhood and sibling affection, were threads of pure gold woven into the fabric of their lives. She caught Augustus's gaze across the room. He leaned against a doorway, arms crossed, his usual stoicism softened by the sight of his daughters. A flicker of something passed through his eyes – not unease, not sorrow, but a deep, careful quietness. It was the look of a guardian aware of the fragile beauty he protected, even as the world outside remained a mystery.
The gentle murmur of the Luminarian city outside continued, a constant, low hum. For now, within these walls, the footsteps were light, and the only whispers were those of love.