The gentle warmth shining in her son’s eyes made Ive’s chest ache painfully.

She could be better.

She should be better.

No matter the demons clawing endlessly through her mind, these children still deserved love. They deserved comfort, affection, care, all the things she so often struggled to give freely.

As the lighter-colored boy stretched sleepily, a soft fondness settled into her gaze. They were still so young. So unbearably sweet despite everything tied to their existence.

A small smile tugged at her lips, and a quiet whine slipped from her throat as she rested her head back upon her paws, simply watching them begin to tumble into play. Tiny growls and clumsy wrestling filled the den as the pair rolled over one another with childish enthusiasm.

At least they seemed close.

That alone brought the weary mother some measure of relief. If nothing else, they had one another.

Slowly, though, the smile faded from her face as another thought crept in.

They still were not speaking.

Concern twisted within her chest as she watched them. Perhaps they needed more time around Ivandri and her children. More opportunities to learn from others.

Ive did not want them growing up mute as she had.

The frustrations of her own silence had followed her throughout her entire life. The inability to communicate properly, to express herself fully, to make others understand, it had always left her feeling isolated and restrained.

She wanted something better for the demonlings.

Something easier.

Something kinder than the life she herself had been forced to navigate in silence.