[Location]: District 1 · Ludwig Branch Community · Townhouse No. 107
CRACK.
The sound was louder this time.
It wasn't the gentle ping of a toaster finishing its job. It sounded like a sniper rifle shot echoing in a silent library.
Hathaway sat frozen on the Persian rug, her finger still hovering in the air where she had poked the egg. She stared at the jagged, electric-blue line running down the center of the pearlescent shell.
It wasn't just a surface scratch. It was a deep, structural ravine.
I broke it.
The thought hit her with the force of a physical blow to the stomach.
I touched her. And she broke.
"Wait... no..." Hathaway stammered, her voice trembling. She looked at her own hand as if it were a cursed object. "I barely touched it! I didn't use mana! I didn't use force! I just wanted a Balor!"
SNAP.
A piece of the shell flaked off.
It didn't fall to the ground. It didn't make a sound. Instead, it dissolved into sparkling Ice Dust before it hit the cushion, vanishing into a mist of pure, cold mana.
The temperature in the room plummeted.
The warm, artificial sunlight streaming through the windows seemed to lose its heat instantly. The fire in the hearth didn't go out, but the flames turned from a cozy orange to a ghostly, shivering blue. The steam rising from the tea cup on the table stopped in mid-air, crystallizing into a delicate sculpture of frost.
Hathaway’s brain, which had just processed advanced theological logic, tactical railgun strikes, and the socio-economics of Dyson Spheres in the A1 Exam just two hours ago, went Completely Blank.
[System Alert: Catastrophic Containment Failure]
[Error 404: Parenting Protocol Not Found]
[Logic Threads 1, 2, 3, 4: CRASHED]
"Uh..." Hathaway made a sound like a strangled goose.
Her mind was a chaotic whirlwind of nonsensical questions:
Is she cooked? Is she ripe? Do I peel it? Do I need duct tape?
Do I call a doctor? Do I call a Necromancer? Do I call the police on myself?
I killed her. I killed the future of my family. I am a Kinslayer.
She could imagine the headlines:
[Ludwig Branch Daughter Murders Unborn Sister with a Single Poke. Family Disowns Her. Sentenced to Run on the Hamster Wheel for 10,000 Years.]
"Margaret is going to laser me," Hathaway whispered, her face pale. "Anna is going to strafe me with an airstrike."
Panic exploded in her chest. She scrambled backward on the rug, her limbs flailing. Her elbow knocked over a crystal flower vase on the coffee table.
The water spilled out.
Hiss.
The water didn't splash onto the floor. Before gravity could pull it down, the liquid Froze instantly in mid-air. It hit the carpet not as a puddle, but as a jagged, artistic sculpture of ice spikes.
"M-Mom?" she squeaked. Her voice was an octave higher than usual.
KRA-KOOM.
The explosion didn't come from the outside. It came from the Center.
A small, pale fist punched through the shell from the inside. The force was shocking. It carried the kinetic energy of a siege ram.
The shell exploded outward.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Shards of frozen calcium and mana crystals flew across the room like shrapnel. One piece grazed Hathaway’s cheek, leaving a tiny, stinging cut that felt like dry ice burn.
"MOM!! ANNA!!"
Hathaway screamed, her composure shattered into a million pieces. She waved her hands in the air, terrified to touch the ruins of the egg, terrified to see the tragedy she had caused.
"HELP! IT EXPLODED! I BROKE IT! SHE'S GONE!"
But the baby didn't care about the panic. The baby didn't care about the shattered shell or the screaming sister.
The cloud of ice dust slowly settled.
Sitting amidst the broken pieces and the frozen Yeti fur blanket was a tiny creature. She wasn't a wrinkly, red human infant. A newly hatched Witch didn't look like a "baby" in the mortal sense. She looked more like a meticulously crafted porcelain doll brought to life by high-density magic.
Her limbs were distinct and chubby, her skin as pale and smooth as freshly set milk pudding. A thin, translucent film of Pale Blue Mana Barrier enveloped her body like a second skin, pulsating gently. This was the birthright of every Witch—an absolute defense to protect her unformed immune system from the filthy air of the world.
She had a head of soft, short Silver Fuzz, sticking up in every direction like a dandelion made of starlight.
Hathaway stopped screaming. She held her breath.
She's... whole. She's not broken.
But it was her eyes that truly silenced the room.
The baby slowly opened her eyelids. They were Huge. They were Azure. They were Deep.
And inside the pupils, Hathaway saw it.
Fractured Ice.
Countless tiny, diamond-like shards of ice were slowly rotating within the blue iris, following a silent, arcane rhythm. It looked like a miniature galaxy made of glaciers.
[Siren Racial Talent · Eye of Eternal Frost]
Hathaway’s mind flashed back to the exam hall. To the black-haired Siren Witch complaining about her mana drain. To the terrifying power of the Frozen Sun.
Siren blood? Hathaway stared in disbelief. The Ludwig gene pool really does contain everything. Fire and Ice under one roof? I asked for Fire... and the Gacha Gods gave me the Absolute Zero.
The baby blinked. The rotating ice-shards in her eyes focused. She looked past the frozen water vase. She looked past the shimmering dust.
She locked onto the hyperventilating silver-haired girl sitting on the floor.
The cold pressure in the room vanished instantly. The aggressive frost stopped spreading.
The baby stared at Hathaway. It wasn't a blank stare. It was an Assessment. Even at 30 seconds old, a Witch is a Witch. She was identifying her environment.
Then, the baby's face scrunched up. She reached out a chubby, pale hand towards Hathaway. The menacing aura of the "Eternal Frost" dissolved into pure, unadulterated sweetness.
And she smiled.
It was a toothless, gummy, radiant smile that could melt a glacier.
"A... woo..."
[System Rebooting...]
[Target Identified: Sister]
[Threat Level: Zero]
[Status: Cute. Dangerously Cute.]
Hathaway’s panic vanished. Her fear evaporated. Her heart, which had been racing at 200 beats per minute, suddenly melted into a puddle of goo on the floor.
She stopped screaming. She crawled forward on her knees, ignoring the wet ice soaking into her stockings. Her movements were tentative, reverent.
She reached out a trembling finger.
The baby grabbed it.
Her grip was strong. Her skin was cool like jade, but not cold. It felt like holding a precious stone.
"Oh..." Hathaway whispered, tears pricking her eyes. "You're... you're real. I didn't break you. You just... wanted to come out."
At that moment, the kitchen door burst open.
BANG!
"HATTIE?! WE HEARD AN EXPLOSION!"
"COMBAT PROTOCOL OMEGA! SECTOR CLEAR!"
Margaret and Anna rushed in.
Margaret was wielding a heavy, terrifying Abyssal Staff. It was made of dark, twisted void-wood, topped with a massive, pulsating Black Gem that seemed to suck the light out of the room. Her eyes were glowing with lethal red lasers, scanning for threats.
Anna, the former Ace Pilot, didn't even touch the ground. She drifted in, hovering six inches above the floor, holding a sleek, aerodynamic Wind-Staff that hummed with the sound of a jet engine.
They were ready to fight a dragon. They were ready to intercept a missile.
"Status Report! Enemy location?!" Anna shouted, her mana flaring like afterburners.
Then, they stopped.
The combat mana dissipated instantly.
They saw the shattered shell scattered across the rug. They saw the frozen water vase and the frost on the windows. They saw the silver-haired baby with the Siren eyes gurgling happily inside her mana barrier.
And they saw their "Genius" daughter sitting on the floor, red-eyed, clutching the baby's hand, looking like she had just survived a war.
"She... she exploded," Hathaway whispered, looking up at her mothers, her voice trembling with leftover adrenaline. "I poked her... and she exploded. And then she smiled at me."
Margaret lowered her Silver Scepter. The lethal red glow in her eyes softened into a warm, watery pink.
"Oh, my sweet mother of mana."
Anna landed softly on the floor, dismissing her Wind-Staff into a sub-space pocket. She walked over and inspected the frost on the Yeti blanket with a professional eye.
"Instant freezing upon contact with air. High-density mana shell." Anna looked at the baby, a proud grin spreading across her face. "A Siren Type. A pureblood Siren trait. And look at that... she recognizes her sister. She waited for you, Hattie."
They walked over quietly, kneeling beside the sofa. The family of four was finally complete. The air was filled with the scent of ozone (from the ice) and vanilla (from Margaret).
"She needs a name," Anna whispered, stroking the baby's silver fuzz with a finger that had steered starships through asteroid fields. "A strong name. Did you think of one, Hattie? While you were screaming for help?"
Hathaway laughed.
It was a wet, teary laugh. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her crimson coat, feeling foolish and incredibly happy.
She looked at the baby. The baby was still holding her finger, looking at her with those impossible, rotating blue eyes.
They shone like the first light of morning reflecting off a glacier. They were cold, yes. But they were Bright. Hopeful. Full of new beginnings.
"Aurora," Hathaway said softly.
The name just felt right. The dawn after the long, dark night. The light that dances on the ice.
"Her name is Aurora von Ludwig."
The baby kicked her legs, sending a tiny puff of snowflakes into the air.
"A-woo!"
She seemed to agree.
Margaret sniffled, leaning her head on Anna's shoulder.
"Aurora. The Dawn. It's perfect."