Embers of a Name
Cold snow would nip at anyone’s skin. It would burn in their lungs, crawl along their skin till they were flush red; the body’s desperate attempt to maintain some level of warmth. Folks were susceptible to that kind of harsh reality, it was a given wherever anyone went in the winter season. Some adapted with thick fur coats — animals growing in a second layer of fur to stave off the harsh winter winds and fresh snowfall that rained from above. Others simply sleep through the cold nights in seemingly endless dreams, or fly away to where the warmth of the sun is practically a given and the promise of safety.
Safety. While others suffer to barely get by each year, working their asses off all year, and it sometimes never being enough for even two people. A cruel fate, but that was the way life went. Survival of the fittest, unless you were wealthy and had people to do all the hard work for them. Some not even paying the fair way, forcing those who needed the coin more to earn their keep in ways that were... questionable to say the least.
I was lucky to be born under a good family, a modest family, who earned their keep in honest work. A hard working father who worked away in the forge to earn gold in exchange for good wares and armors, a nurturing mother who slaved tirelessly to ensure I had food on my plate and clothes on my back. I, myself was not exempt from this hard work, granted my labor came in the form of house chores during the day. But at night, when everyone slept, I’d cut and knicked myself just to perfect my own amateur craft of swordsmanship. Nothing but a dull blade to swing and strike against a wooden stump. All so I could be something every boy my age aspired to be... a Guardsman...
“Saif! What are you doin’?” Called my father, his voice deep from the constant inhalation of smoke and steam from his work in the shop. He was no bigger than the human travelers who came through town. His flaming hair burning in such a bright hue of fiery reds, oranges, and yellows; eyes that glowed warmly as I looked back to greet him, dropping my blade in the process. I was lucky it didn’t pierce my foot, a startled gasp as I recoiled seconds before it could. “Boy-” He gave an exasperated sigh, “Don’t you go droppin’ that now. Ain’t got the coin to pay for another of yer clumsy stumblin’s.” My father mused in a deep chuckle, pulling the short sword from the dirt to give back to me.
“Sorry, Dad...” I murmured, jutting my bottom lip in a shameful pout as I took the dull blade from his callous grasp; my eyes averted to the snow covered ground. I knew he wasn’t mad, the man could never bring himself to yell at me or mom despite our slip ups. He was surprisingly patient and understanding in the plights of others. He was a good man. He was everything I wanted to be when I grew up. “Yer fine, son. Just be careful.” He cooed, ruffling the heated locks of my fiery hair. He always had such a gentle touch for a man who looked like he could take on a Goliath. At least in terms of muscle. “Yer ma’ wanted me to come out ‘ere and bring ya’ in. Supper’s done.” He muttered, gesturing for me to follow him as we went inside. I fell in pace just a little ways behind him, his steps greater than mine so I had to speed walk to keep up.
He looked back for a moment, a smile growing on his face as he took in a deep breath. Trying to will himself not to laugh at me, no doubt. He always found it funny how I had to race to keep in step with him. The smart ass he was. “Saif, do you need help?” He quizzed, his tone clearly laced in humor as he really strained himself not to laugh. “Aye! Don’t laugh at me!” I pointed my dull sword at him, a defiance burning in my eyes as I rushed ahead of him. I could hear his chuckle as he followed inside after me.
“There you two are! I was wonderin’ when you’d two turn up.” My mom called, a cheerful ring to her voice as she set the last of the plates on the wooden table. “Sorry, love. Our boy ’ere thought it’d be smart to nearly drop his blade on his foot.” My dad grinned as I shot him a death glare, mom rolling her eyes as she walked to me and checked me for any injuries. “You can be so reckless, baby...” She scolded lightly, placing a kiss on my forehead as she took the short sword from my hand and placed it on a table next to the back door. “Ah, leave the boy alone. He’s got dreams, don’t he?” Dad mused as he ushered me to the table. The smell of roasted chicken was rich, and just by the smell? I could tell it was covered in chili-oil and loaded with chili spices. Her cooking was always the best.
“It smells good in ’ere, love.” Dad murmured, pressing a kiss to Mom’s cheek as the flames that made up her long hair burned in contrast of pinkish magenta. I audibly gagged. “Gross! No mushy stuff while we’re trying to eat!” I chided, earning a cheeky grin from my Dad and a bashful smile from my Mom as they sat down across from one another; I myself sat between them. There were normally only three chairs, but as Mom helped load my plate with chicken and corn, I took notice of the fourth chair sat across from me. It was too high for me to sit in, and too small. “Dad, what’s with the extra chair?” I asked, my mouth full of chicken to which Mom lightly smacked my arm. Right. Table manners.
Dad paused for a moment to look at the extra chair, then glanced up at Mom. She seemed contemplative, then gave a small shrug before nodding to him. Dad then looked at me, asking a question that honestly made me choke on my corn. “Saif... How would you feel about havin’ a sibling..?” He asked hesitantly. The sharp inhale I took was a mistake, immediately having a coughing fit that earned a worried look from mom and dad alike. I waved a hand to signal I was fine, coughing a few more times before looking to Dad with utter surprise and confusion. “A-A Sibli-ing?” I repeated between coughs, brow furrowed as I gave him a look of skepticism. Dad nodded slowly with a deep hum as Mom pat my back. “You ’eard me right, son.” He stated calmly, if not somewhat amused by my sudden coughing fit.
Mom interjected before I could speak. “I think what your father means is... would you be okay having a... little sister..? Saif...?” She seemed just as hesitant, my brain barely processing that alone before I looked at Mom expectantly. “... Mom..?” I murmured, my voice soft as I waited in faded breath. If it was true, then that meant-
“We.. are expecting a new family member coming this spring, Saif...” Mom affirmed gently, then bit her lip a bit as she pondered her thoughts before speaking again; “You’re going to have a little sister, Saif...” She murmured. To say I was ecstatic was a massive understatement, a big smile on my face as I kicked my feet and clapped my hands. “I’m having a sister! Yes!” I exclaimed with a voice of absolute joy, barely able to sit still in my seat whilst my mom and dad exchanged looks of relief. Mom giving a breathless quip of laughter as she eased herself of her worries, Dad giving a semi-vibrant smile as he chuckled towards my enthusiasm. I was having a sister.
The coming spring, mom had collapsed while dad was in the forge. Her scream for my dad made me jump from the backyard, dropping my sword as I ran back inside to find my mom on the floor. She was crying and holding her stomach, a puddle pooling on the floor beneath her. Seconds later, dad ran in and immediately rushed to her side. He grasped her hand, looking at me with an expression of sternness I’d only seen when the moment was absolutely dire. “Go fetch help, boy! Now!” I gave a curt nod, running off as fast as my legs could carry me. The longest night of our lives was spent listening to mom’s screams from every contraction, sometimes a midwife would come running out.
Those times were the loudest I’d ever hear mom scream, or so I thought...
Finally, after hours of labor, dad and I collectively shot up at the sound of a baby screaming. My dad never shot to his feet so fast, practically slamming against the door before it swung open. I followed after him and we both paused upon seeing mom, her flames dimmed and weak from exhaustion, holding a swaddled infant in her arms. Dad joined mom at her side, but when I tried to join, the midwives tried to stop me, saying I was too young to be in here. They only stopped after mom snapped for them to let me in. “He is my son!” Mom hissed in offense, “He is allowed to be in here!” The midwives were quick to obey, letting me through as I ran to the bed and crawled up to be at her side. Dad and I were staring in awe of the small baby that wailed in distress, yet we were overjoyed at the sounds of her cries. It meant she was alive. Mom and dad nuzzled into each other, dad thankful she was okay whilst mom was happy, the worst was over.
Then they looked at me, mom offering the swaddle towards me with a weary smile born of exhaustion. “Careful with her head, honey...” mom murmured, helping me hold her properly before letting go of the baby. The infant fell quiet in my arms, small cooing whines as the little embers of her hair flicked and steamed. That alone gave me assurance that her flame would be strong. Just like mine. Then, dad spoke up. “What’s ‘er name gon’ be..?” I honestly thought he was talking to mom until I looked up to find they both were collectively looking my way. I paused, blinking a bit before murmuring in a hush voice. “Me..? You want me to...” I trailed off, a small smile coming from Mom and dad as they nodded simultaneously. “You have been very committed to this whole journey, Saif...” mom whispered, her head tucked under dads chin. “I have a good feelin’ you’ll do ’er right... won’t ’cha, son..?” Dad pressed.
It was a lot of pressure, a slight flicker of worry in my expression as I looked down to the baby covered in the soft sheets. There were so many names that came to mind, too many to choose from at that second that could fit; But, then she opened her eyes. When I saw them, I couldn’t look away. Such fiery red eyes much like dads, flickers of pink from mom no doubt. I don’t know how I found out, but I knew then what her name would be. I murmured under my breath...
“Zeva...” All as an innocent, gentle smile appeared along my lips.
And I thought then, it was a pretty name. Only then didn’t I fully know just how much it would come back to haunt me...
At least, now that I’m older.
