Page 24 of Barbells, Broomsticks & A Baby

Chapter 8—Grizelda

THE FIRST TWENTY-FOURhours after our daughter’s birth pass in a blur of wonder, exhaustion, and unexpected magic. We name her Lyra Violet Mountainheart-Greenwarth—a name as unique as the magical heritage she carries.

Over the next few days, Atlas transforms into a father with the same wholehearted dedication he brings to everything, learning to change diapers with his massive hands and cradling our tiny daughter against his stone chest with exquisite gentleness. The sight of them together—this towering troll with his impossibly small daughter—never fails to make my heart swell with affection.

“She’s a perfect blend of us,” he says as we watch Lyra sleep in her crib—the same one that once performed aerial acrobatics over the town square during my pregnancy magical mishaps.

Lyra’s magic had made itself known within minutes of her birth. By the first evening, we discovered her emotions affect the objects around her. Her contentment causes flowers to bloom in her nursery, while her hunger physically tugs at my breasts, insisting I approach to nurse her—not that I’d resist. Her displeasure during diaper changes temporarily transforms the changing table into various alarming shapes.

“She’ll need specialized training,” says my mother, entering the nursery with a steaming mug of restorative tea for me. “Mixed magical heritage can create unpredictable manifestations.”

I accept the tea gratefully. My own magic has mostly returned to normal after the birth, though I still experience occasional surges when particularly tired or emotional.

“We’ll find the right teachers when the time comes,” says Atlas confidently. “Until then, we have a houseful of magical expertise to guide her.”

My mother raises an eyebrow at being included in this statement but doesn’t contradict him. In fact, she’s been surprisingly helpful and non-critical since Lyra’s birth, with brewing specialized potions to aid my recovery, casting protective enchantments around the nursery, and holding Lyra while Atlas and I catch moments of much-needed rest.

Now, she approaches the crib, her expression softening as she gazes down at her sleeping granddaughter. “She has the Greenwarth nose,” she notes with satisfaction. “And the magical signature is reminiscent of my great-grandmother Esmeralda—strong, with unusual harmonic resonances.”

“Is that good?” asks Atlas.

“Esmeralda was one of the most powerful witches of her generation. She could cast spells that most witches only dream of mastering, and she did it with remarkable precision and control.”

“High expectations to place on a four-day-old,” I comment, though secretly pleased by the comparison.

“Not expectations,” says my mother. “Observations. What she does with her gifts will be her own choice.”

This too surprises me—the acknowledgment of choice and individual paths. My mother certainly never offered me such freedom growing up, with her rigid training schedules and exacting standards.

As if reading my thoughts, she turns to me with an unusually reflective expression. “I may have been...somewhat inflexible in my approach to your magical education, Grizelda.”

This admission—the closest thing to an apology I’ve ever received from my mother—renders me momentarily speechless.

“Watching you during labor...” She continues when I don’t respond, “I was reminded of your inherent strength. Your magic has always been powerful, if somewhat undisciplined, but you’ve found your own way to harness it effectively, despite my rather...rigid methods.”

“Mom...” I’m unsure how to respond to this unprecedented vulnerability.

“The point is,” she says briskly, her moment of reflection apparently complete, “Lyra will find her own magical path as well, with proper guidance from all of us.”

Atlas steps in smoothly. “We’re fortunate that she’ll have such a wealth of magical knowledge to draw from—your expertise in traditional witchcraft, Zelda’s innovative approaches, and my earth troll traditions.”

“Yes, well...” My mother straightens her already impeccable robes. “Speaking of expertise, I’ve taken the liberty of preparing a specialized tincture for the baby. It will help stabilize her magical fluctuations during sleep.”

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