Malachi stirred. His eyes opened slowly, the sunlight reflecting on his brown irises. He didn't need to look to know he was being watched. A tall figure stood at the foot of his bed, Long black hair cascaded down her back like a silken shroud.
Malachi sat up straight, his own black, wavy hair dangling in his face, obscuring his vision until he brushed it back with his hand. He offered a sleepy, crooked smile at the figure.
"Little Xian," he murmured, his voice raspy from slumber. "I still can't digest how much you've grown in such a short time. It feels like only yesterday I was carrying you through the shadow gardens."
"B-b-brother," Nyxian answered, her voice sharper than it had been years ago, though the faint ripple of her old stammer remained . "I'm not little anymore. You've slept through the transition."
