Years later, the city was quiet.

  Romulus sat on the stone steps as a group of children gathered around him. Aegis’s descendant lay beside him, tail flicking lazily. The sun was low, painting the valley in gold.

  One of the children asked, “Why was Remus special? How did he become the Son of Life?”

  Romulus exhaled slowly.

  “You want the truth?” he said.

  They nodded.

  “When the guards took us away from our mother… she cried. She prayed. She begged for us to be saved. She didn’t care who heard her.”

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  He looked at his hands.

  “They threw Remus in first.”

  The children froze.

  “Aegis jumped in after him. She grabbed me, pulled me out, and tried to go back for Remus… but she couldn’t reach him in time.”

  Romulus’s voice softened.

  “My mother… she fell to her knees. She begged Life itself to save us. Not a god. Not a spirit. Just Life. The thing that keeps everything breathing.”

  He touched his arm where Remus’s mark once glowed.

  “And because Remus was dying… Life answered.”

  The children stared, silent.

  “That’s why he was different,” Romulus said. “That’s why he had the mark. That’s why he could do what he did. Not because he was born special… but because my mother loved us enough that Life itself listened.”

  He looked out over the valley — the city Remus died to protect.

  “That’s the truth,” he said quietly. “That’s why they called him the Son of Life.”

  Aegis’s descendant lifted her head and howled softly.

  Romulus whispered:

  “And that’s why I’ll never forget him.”