I Just Wanted to Nap, But They Built Me a Religion

Its been a years since his sister arrive in this world.

Now, Ezrel was three years old.

He had mastered walking, hiding, and pretending to sleep on command.

Unfortunately, so had his sister ..... sort of.

She wasn't even two yet. Just barely walking. Not blessed. Not magical.

And yet she always knew when he left the crib.

This morning, Ezrel made his move at dawn.

Lysette was asleep, one hand curled in a death grip around his sleeve. He studied her grip. Inhaled. Slowly peeled the cloth from her fingers.

She sighed but didn't wake.

Ezrel slid off the bed like a soldier defusing a bomb, then crawled across the nursery floor like a fugitive seeking asylum.

The towel basket awaited.

He burrowed into the linen like it was salvation.

Freedom... warm, woven freedom.

Ezrel closed his eyes.

Ten seconds of peace.

Then...

"...Onii... chan."

His eyes snapped open.

No.No no no.She wasn't supposed to talk yet.

Are u guys sure that I'm a genius?????

Look she can mutter my name ways before I can speak...

And look her first word is brother???

Thats a wrong server.... U shall say mother or maybe father..

Not brother...

Huhhhhhhhhhhhh..

Across the room, the maids gasped.

"She said her first word!"

"She's a genius!"

"She's speaking the sacred tongue of sibling piety"

"She's trying to crawl!!"

Ezrel sat up in horror.

And then he saw it:

A blur of pink swaddle barreling toward him on all fours.

Eyes locked. Arms outstretched. Drool trailing like a ribbon of doom.

"She shouldn't even be forming words yet," Ezrel thought. "She shouldn't be sprinting either. This is wrong. She's broken."

"SHE'S LOCKED ON."

He bolted.

He wasn't fast. But he was terrified.

Made it to the closet door.

Didn't make it inside.

She tackled him.

Face-first.

Lysette wrapped her arms around him like a vice. Buried her cheek into his back. Murmured again:

"...Onii-chan."

A maid screamed. One fainted. Another wrote it down on a scroll titled Signs of Divine Thread.

Waitt..... Whatts That Thing....

That night, the family issued a new rule:

Ezrel and Lysette must sleep together. Always.

"For harmony," said Mother.

"For her emotional balance," said Father.

"For Dormir's legacy," muttered a priest who hadn't slept in 48 hours.

Ezrel tried to object, but everyone mistook his silence for calm acceptance.

Back in the crib, Lysette clung to his arm like a body pillow.

She drooled happily into his shoulder.

The maids peeked in and sighed. "She smiles so sweetly when she's holding him."

One called it divine.

Another called it fate.

Ezrel stared at the ceiling.

"I am no longer a person. I am a pillow with a pulse."

His sigil flickered weakly, as if crying with him.