The halls of Ashenford Castle grew lively with each passing day. Morning light spilled across the polished floors, servants moving quietly as though woven into the rhythm of stone and shadow. Their voices, once a blur of sound, gradually began to take shape.
Eryn sat near the tall window, silver hair catching the sun. At first, the words that reached her ears had been fragments—isolated syllables scattered like shards of glass. Yet, piece by piece, meaning gathered.
Ding.
"Host, language comprehension has reached seventy-two percent. Fluency expected with continued exposure."
Sally often brushed her hair, whispering words in a soft voice. Leon visited with steady silence, his blue eyes sharp but warm when they lingered on her. Alfred, bright with energy, rarely left her side. He brought toys, books, and endless chatter.
One evening, firelight flickered in the chamber. Sally set aside her quill, her voice calm but resolute.
"She cannot remain nameless. She is our daughter now. She must have a name."
Leon's gaze shifted toward the child. His tone was low, steady. "You're right. A name worthy of her."
Alfred leaned forward, eyes alight. "Can I help? She's my sister."
Sally's lips curved faintly. "Of course, Alfred."
They exchanged names—gentle, sharp, ancient, new. At last, Alfred blurted one out, almost shyly.
"Eryndra. Her name is Eryndra."
Sally's crimson eyes flickered. "Eryndra?"
Leon raised an eyebrow. "Why that name?"
The boy turned toward the child. Her silver hair shimmered under the firelight, her eyes reflecting the glow like glass. His voice dropped to a whisper, as though afraid the moment would vanish if spoken too loudly.
"She looks… like light. The kind that shines out of crystal. So… Eryndra."
Silence fell, warm and heavy. Sally's lips softened into a smile. "Yes. Eryndra."
Leon nodded once. "Then so be it. From this day forward, she will be called Eryndra."
Ding.
"Host designation established: Eryndra. Recognition accepted."
The child's small chest rose and fell. Though no words left her lips, the thought rooted deep within: This is my name. I am Eryndra.
---
The days unfolded quietly.
Alfred often lingered near her, his wooden horse in hand, circling the chamber with bursts of laughter. Eryndra's gaze followed him. A word trembled on her lips, lodged deep within her throat.
Alfred stopped suddenly, eyes bright. He leaned closer, voice eager.
"Sister… can you call me brother?"
The sound echoed in her heart. Brother. The bridge between them, fragile yet real.
Her throat tightened. Breath caught. With trembling lips, she forced a sound into the silence.
"…Bro…"
Ding.
"Host vocalization success rate: 1.2%. Slight improvement detected."
Alfred froze.
"…Brother."
Ding.
"Host vocalization success rate: 2%. Noticeable improvement detected."
The boy's eyes widened, his body trembling with sudden joy. He laughed, half crying, and threw his arms around her.
"You called me brother!"
Sally and Leon entered at the sound. Sally's hands trembled as she brushed Eryndra's cheek. "Can you call me mother?"
Her lips parted again, breath shaky. "…Mo…ther."
Ding.
"Host vocalization success rate: 4%."
Leon stepped forward, his hand resting lightly on the blanket. "And me… father?"
Eryndra's gaze met his. "…Fa…ther."
Ding.
"Host vocalization success rate: 8%."
The room filled with warmth. Sally gathered her close, her voice unsteady with joy. "Enough for today. You've done so well."
Leon's calm tone carried quiet pride. "Yes. Tomorrow will come soon enough."
Alfred wiped his eyes, still holding her hand tightly. "She called me brother…"
Exhaustion pulled at her, yet so did happiness.
For the first time, she had spoken.
---
The following days pressed her further.
Her fingers twitched, weak and clumsy at first. Alfred gasped aloud, rushing to her side. Sally encouraged her softly, crimson eyes glowing with hope. Leon, usually calm, allowed a faint smile.
Ding.
"Motor control progress: 10%. Upper body control established."
Day after day, her arms responded. Then her legs, heavy and stubborn, yet unwilling to remain still forever.
Until, at last—
The chamber was quiet, firelight flickering. With trembling effort, Eryndra pulled herself upright. Her legs wavered, yet they bore her weight.
One step.
Then another.
Her breath came ragged, her body drenched in sweat. Alfred steadied her, shouting with joy. Sally wept quietly, pride in her crimson eyes. Leon's steady gaze softened, voice low. "Step forward."
She did.
Ding.
"Milestone reached: Standing achieved. Progress—72%."
Her legs gave way. Sally caught her, holding her against her chest. Leon's hand rested firmly on her shoulder.
It had taken twenty days. Twenty days to move from silence to speech, from crawling fingers to walking steps.
As she closed her eyes, leaning against their warmth, Eryndra understood—she was no longer a soul lost within a crystal. She was a daughter, a sister. A person with a name.
The castle, once vast and cold, now pulsed with life.
Her journey had only begun.