Day 371. 09:00 hours.
The hospital.
Marie's master suite.
The morning check-up.
Alessia walked through the heated corridor from the central mansion to the hospital, her glow pulsing soft amber against the narra floors. Nearly six months pregnant with the fundamental baby. Carrying Jae-min's heir. The doctor who did not know, not yet. The doctor who would know today.
The doctor who came to check on Marie.
Marie was in the master suite. Four days postpartum. Her dark hair loose on the pillows. Her face tired. Her face happy, the mother who was Olympus.
'Olympus was a mother alive. Olympus was the first face a child sees.'
Rico was beside her. The father who had not left. The father in the chair. His hand on Marie's hand. His other hand on the bassinet, the father who was home.
Little Jae-min was in the bassinet. Four days old. Sleeping. His fists curled. His mouth open. His breath soft. The baby who was the first, the baby who was Olympus.
'Olympus was four days old. Olympus was a fist that holds a finger and won't let go.'
"Alessia," Marie greeted, her voice warm and tired. "Come, check."
Alessia entered. The doctor who crossed the room. The doctor who sat on the edge of the bed. Her hands clinical. Her glow warm.
"Blood pressure," Alessia measured, her voice shifting to the doctor's register, clinical, precise.
"Normal," Marie confirmed. The auntie who had been checking. The auntie whose blood pressure was stable. The auntie whose body was healing.
"Temperature," Alessia continued.
"Normal," Marie confirmed.
"Bleeding," Alessia pressed.
"Light, normal, the lochia is tapering," Marie answered. The auntie who knew. The auntie who was healing.
"The baby," Alessia said, her voice shifting, from the doctor to the cousin. The cousin who reached into the bassinet. The cousin whose hands lifted. The cousin whose hands held Little Jae-min.
Four days old. Warm. Soft. Awake. The baby whose dark eyes opened. The baby whose dark eyes found Alessia. The baby whose mouth opened. The baby whose mouth made a sound, not a cry, a gurgle. The sound that was life.
"He's healthy," Alessia confirmed, her voice certain. "Weight, nine pounds, stable, jaundice, none, reflexes, normal, heartbeat, strong, lungs, clear, the baby is healthy, the baby is perfect."
"Perfect," Rico confirmed, his voice rough and wet. The father whose eyes were wet. The father whose son was perfect.
"Perfect," Marie confirmed, her voice warm and tired and happy. The mother whose son was perfect.
Alessia held the baby. The doctor who held. The cousin who held, the doctor who for one moment was not the doctor. The cousin. The godmother. Her glow warm. Her hand on the baby's back. The doctor who felt the heartbeat. The doctor who felt the breath. The doctor who felt the life.
'Olympus was nine pounds in her arms. Olympus was a heartbeat under her palm. Olympus was the reason the wall existed.'
"He's beautiful, Auntie," Alessia whispered, her voice breaking, her dark eyes wet.
"He is," Marie confirmed, her voice breaking. The mother who was happy. The mother who was tired.
Alessia placed the baby back in the bassinet. The doctor who placed. The doctor who covered. The doctor who tucked. Her hands gentle. Her touch certain.
"Recovery, on schedule," Alessia reported, her voice clinical. "Four days postpartum, the uterus is contracting, the bleeding is tapering, blood pressure stable, temperature normal, the body is healing, another two weeks and you can walk, another four weeks and you can resume, recovery is on schedule."
"Two weeks," Marie repeated. The auntie who heard. Two weeks of rest. Two weeks of recovery. Two weeks of the master suite. Two weeks of Little Jae-min. Two weeks of healing.
"Two weeks," Alessia confirmed. "Rest, recover, the baby is healthy, the mother is healing, two weeks."
"Two weeks," Rico confirmed, his voice rough. The father who heard. The father who would enforce. Two weeks of rest. Two weeks of Marie. Two weeks of the baby. Two weeks.
"Thank you, Alessia," Marie said, her voice warm and grateful.
"Always, Auntie," Alessia answered, her voice the first wife's voice, — family. Olympus.
'Olympus was 'always.' Olympus was blood choosing blood. Olympus was the promise that no one stands alone.'
— • • • —
Day 371. 10:00 hours.
The hospital.
The surgical ward.
The ultrasound room.
Alessia had prepared the ultrasound room. The surgical ward, the ballroom that had been converted. The GE Voluson, the ultrasound machine salvaged from St. Luke's. The machine Alessia had placed. The machine Alessia had calibrated. The machine that was ready.
The room where the seven would see.
The seven. The seven pregnant women. The seven who were carrying. The seven who were the next generation.
Hua. Elaine. Alessia. Carmen. Esperanza. Sofia. Lina.
The seven who gathered. The seven who came. The seven who sat. The seven who waited.
Hua was first. The chef who was nearly nine months pregnant with Eun-hae. Her belly heavy. Her belly low. Days from delivery. The chef who waddled. The chef who did not stop. The chef who was the next mother.
Elaine was second. The spy who was nearly nine months. Her belly heavy. Her belly low. Days from delivery. The spy who was Command Team. The spy who was Haitao's daughter. The spy who was Jae-min's sixth wife.
Alessia was third. The doctor who was nearly six months. Her belly rounding. Her glow warm. The fundamental baby. The doctor who was also the one performing the ultrasounds. The doctor who would see her own baby, after the others.
Carmen was fourth. Nearly eight months. Her belly heavy. Paolo's. Villanueva.
Esperanza was fifth. Nearly eight months. Her belly heavy. Paolo's. Villanueva.
Sofia was sixth. Nearly eight months. Her belly heavy. Paolo's. Villanueva.
Lina was seventh. Nearly eight months. Her belly heavy. Paolo's. Villanueva.
Jae-min was at the door. The captain who was the father. The captain who was the husband. His dark eyes on his wives. His dark eyes on the seven. The captain who was waiting.
Ji-yoo was at the door. The twin who was the aunt. Her dark eyes on the seven. The twin who was waiting.
Paolo was at the door. The husband who was the father. His dark eyes on his four wives. The husband who was waiting.
Rico was there. The father who had come downstairs, with Marie's permission. The father whose son was upstairs. The father who was the uncle. The father who was waiting.
Haitao was there. The Gedo captain who was the grandfather. His daughter was Elaine. His grandchild was in Elaine's belly. The grandfather who was waiting.
The household who gathered. The household who watched. The household who waited, the household that was Olympus.
'Olympus was the table where everyone sits and no one eats alone.'
— • • • —
Day 371. 10:15 hours.
The ultrasound room. Hua.
Alessia began. The doctor who placed the gel. The doctor who placed the probe. The doctor who moved the probe across Hua's belly. The doctor who looked at the screen. The doctor who saw.
The screen. The GE Voluson. The screen that showed the baby, Eun-hae. A girl. Nearly nine months. Days from delivery. The heartbeat strong. The position head down. The size on schedule. The baby who was healthy. The baby who was ready, the baby who was Olympus.
'Olympus was Eun-hae. Olympus was days away. Olympus was the next breath inside the wall.'
"Eun-hae," Alessia reported, her voice clinical and warm. "The baby is healthy. Heartbeat, one hundred forty. Strong. Position, head down. Optimal for delivery. Size, three point two kilograms. On schedule. The baby is ready. Days. Maybe a week. Due date, Day three eighty-eight."
"Day three eighty-eight," Hua repeated, her voice steady. The chef whose hand was on her belly. The chef whose baby was ready. The chef whose baby was days. The chef who was the next mother.
"Days," Jae-min said, his voice quiet and certain. The captain whose wife was days. The captain whose baby was ready.
"Days," Hua confirmed. The chef whose kitchen would not stop. The chef whose baby was days. The chef who was the next mother.
"Eun-hae," Jae-min whispered, the name he had given. The name that was his daughter. The name that was Hua's. The name that was theirs, the name that was Olympus.
— • • • —
Day 371. 10:30 hours.
The ultrasound room. Elaine.
Elaine was next, the spy who lay on the table, her belly heavy, her belly low, nearly nine months, days from delivery.
Alessia placed the gel, the probe, the screen, the doctor who looked, the doctor who saw.
The screen showed the baby, the fourth, the heartbeat strong, the position head down, the size on schedule, the baby who was Olympus.
Olympus was a heartbeat at 142. Olympus was a daughter days from breathing.
"The baby is healthy," Alessia reported. "Heartbeat, one hundred forty-two, strong, position, head down, optimal, size, three point one kilograms, on schedule, due date, Day three ninety-eight, days, maybe a week and a half."
"Day three ninety-eight," Elaine repeated, her voice steady and quiet.
"The gender," Alessia said, her voice shifting, the doctor who moved the probe, the doctor who found, the doctor who saw.
The screen showed the gender, a girl, Jae-min's sixth child, a girl.
"A girl," Alessia announced, her voice warm. "The baby is a girl."
Elaine's dark eyes were wet, the spy who was seeing, seeing her daughter, her hand on her belly, her baby was a girl, her baby was Olympus.
"A girl, my daughter, the daughter I never thought I would have, the daughter I carried in secret, the daughter I carry in the open now, a girl." Elaine realized, something breaking and rebuilding inside her chest simultaneously. "Olympus is her. Olympus is my second chance."
"A girl," Elaine whispered, her voice breaking, the spy who was not a spy, the woman who was a mother, the woman whose baby was a girl.
Haitao's dark eyes were wet, the grandfather who was seeing, seeing his granddaughter, his hand on the doorframe, his daughter was Elaine, his grandchild was a girl.
"A girl," Jae-min said, his voice quiet and warm, the captain whose wife was carrying a girl, the captain whose sixth child was a girl, the captain who looked at Elaine, the captain who saw, the captain who knew.
"Elena," Jae-min named, his voice breaking, the name he chose, the name that was Elaine's mother's name, the grandmother's name, the name of the woman who had loved Elaine, the name of the woman who had raised Elaine, the name of the woman who had died.
"Elena, her mother, the woman Elaine lost, the woman Elaine carried in her name, Cortez was the cover, Bian was the father, but Elena, Elena was the mother, the mother who was gone, the mother who would be remembered, the mother whose name would live." Jae-min realized, the thought raw and deliberate. "Olympus is memory. Olympus is a dead mother living again in a daughter."
"Elena," Jae-min repeated, his voice breaking, the captain who was the husband, the captain who was the father, the captain who named his daughter after his wife's mother.
Elaine's dark eyes broke, the spy who was not a spy, the woman who was a daughter, the woman whose mother was Elena, the woman whose mother was gone, the woman whose mother was remembered, the woman whose daughter would carry the name, the mother's name, the grandmother's name, the name that was Elena.
"Elena, Mama, my mother, my daughter, the same name, the same love, the same woman, different, but the same, the name that was my mother, the name that is now my daughter, the name that carries." Elaine realized, the thought tearing through her, raw, warm, bleeding. "Olympus is her. Olympus is my mother reborn. Olympus is the line unbroken."
"Elena," Elaine whispered, her voice breaking, the woman who was crying, the woman whose tears were falling, the woman whose hand was on her belly, the woman whose daughter was Elena, the woman who was touched, the woman who was broken, the woman who was whole.
"Elena," Haitao repeated, his voice rough and wet, the grandfather whose wife had been Elena's grandmother, the grandfather whose daughter was Elaine, the grandfather whose granddaughter was Elena, the grandfather who was crying, the grandfather who was here.
"Elena," Jae-min confirmed, his voice certain and full of love, the father who named his daughter, the father who honored his wife's mother, the father who gave the name.
"Elena," Elaine breathed, her voice whole and broken and full of love. "Elena, my mother's name, my daughter's name, Elena."
"Elena," the room echoed, the room that was Olympus.
'Olympus was Elena. Olympus was grief turned into daughter. Olympus was why they would never surrender.'
— • • • —
Day 371. 11:00 hours.
The ultrasound room. Alessia.
Alessia was next, the doctor who lay on the table, the doctor who was the patient, nearly six months, her glow warm, her belly rounding, the fundamental baby.
Ji-yoo performed the ultrasound, the twin who placed the gel, the twin who placed the probe, the twin who moved the probe, the twin who looked at the screen, the twin who saw, the twin who had been trained, the twin who had been taught, the twin who was the Preta captain, and also the doctor's hands, when the doctor was the patient.
The screen showed the baby, the fundamental baby, the heartbeat strong, the heartbeat different, the fundamental heartbeat, Signature A, the heir, the heir who was Olympus.
'Olympus was the heir. Olympus was the Del Rosario name continuing. Olympus was the future with a heartbeat.'
"The baby is healthy," Ji-yoo reported, her voice the Preta captain's register, clipped, clinical. "Heartbeat, one hundred forty-six, strong, position, head down, optimal, size, one point one kilograms, on schedule, due date, Day four eighty-two, four months, the baby is growing, the baby is healthy."
"Day four eighty-two," Alessia repeated, her voice clinical and warm, the doctor who was the patient, the doctor who was seeing her own baby, her glow warm, the fundamental baby.
"The gender," Ji-yoo said, her voice shifting, the twin who moved the probe, the twin who found, the twin who saw.
The screen showed the gender, a boy, Jae-min's heir, the fundamental boy, Signature A.
"A boy," Ji-yoo announced, her voice clinical and certain. "The baby is a boy."
Alessia's glow flared, the doctor who was seeing, seeing her son, seeing the boy, her hand on her belly, her baby was a boy, her baby was the heir, her baby was Olympus.
"A boy, my son, our son, the heir, the fundamental boy, the baby that is Signature A, the baby that is the next generation, the baby that is Jae-min's heir." Alessia realized, something blazing inside her, warm, fierce, overwhelming. "Olympus is him. Olympus is the heir. Olympus is the Del Rosario name secured."
"A boy," Alessia whispered, her voice breaking, the doctor who was not a doctor, the woman who was a mother, the woman whose baby was a boy, the woman whose baby was the heir.
Jae-min's dark eyes were wet, the captain who was seeing, seeing his son, his first wife carrying a boy, his heir, the captain who looked at Alessia, the captain who saw, the captain who knew.
"A boy, my son, my heir, the fundamental boy, the child that carries the Del Rosario name, the child that carries the void, the child that carries everything, the child that is the next generation, the child that is the reason." Jae-min realized, the thought raw and blazing and full. "Olympus is him. Olympus is my son. Olympus is why I will never stop."
"Jin," Jae-min named, his voice breaking, the name he chose, the name that was the heir, the name that was the son, the name that was the fundamental boy, the name that would carry the Del Rosario name, the Del Rosario line, the Del Rosario heir.
"Jin," Jae-min repeated, his voice breaking, the captain who was the husband, the captain who was the father, the captain who named his son, the captain who named his heir.
"Jin, my son, the name that carries everything, the Del Rosario name, the void, the spatial awareness, the fundamental, the heir, the son, the reason Olympus holds, the reason Olympus fights, the reason Olympus survives." Jae-min realized, the thought settling into his chest like a stone dropping into deep water. "Olympus is Jin."
Alessia's dark eyes broke, the doctor who was not a doctor, the woman who was a wife, the woman who was a mother, the woman who had given Jae-min an heir, the woman who had given the Del Rosario line a son, the woman who had given the captain an heir, the woman who was crying, the woman whose tears were falling, the woman whose glow was blazing, the woman whose hand was on her belly, the woman whose son was Jin.
"Jin, my son, Jae-min's heir, the fundamental boy, the baby I carry, the baby I made, the baby that is us, the baby that is love, the baby that is the future, the baby that is the reason." Alessia realized, the thought warm and fierce and overwhelming. "Olympus is him. Olympus is kicking inside me. Olympus is the future."
"Jin," Alessia whispered, her voice breaking, the woman who was crying, the woman who was happy, the woman who was whole. "Jin, my son, Jae-min's heir, Jin."
"Jin," Jae-min confirmed, his voice certain and full of love, the father who named his son, the father who named his heir.
"Jin," the room echoed, the room that was Olympus.
'Olympus was Jin. Olympus was the heir. Olympus was the name that made the wall unbreakable.'
Alessia cried, the doctor who cried, the woman who cried, the first wife who cried, the mother who cried, the woman who had given Jae-min an heir, the woman who had given the Del Rosario a son, the woman who was happy, the woman who was whole, the woman whose tears were joy.
Jae-min held her, the captain who held, the husband who held, the father who held, his arms around Alessia, his hand on her belly, his son was Jin, the captain who was here, the captain who was home, the captain who was Olympus.
"Thank you," Jae-min whispered, his voice breaking. "Thank you, for Jin, for the heir, for the son."
"Jin," Alessia whispered, her voice breaking. "Our son, our heir, Jin."
— • • • —
Day 371. 11:30 hours.
The ultrasound room. Paolo's four.
Carmen was first, the wife who lay on the table, her belly heavy, nearly eight months, Paolo's.
Alessia performed the ultrasound, the gel, the probe, the screen.
"The baby is healthy," Alessia reported. "Heartbeat, one hundred forty-four, strong, position, head down, size, two point eight kilograms, due date, Day four hundred and six, five weeks."
"The gender," Alessia said, moving the probe, the doctor who found, the doctor who saw.
"A boy," Alessia announced. "The baby is a boy."
Carmen's dark eyes were wet, the wife who was seeing her son, her hand on her belly, her baby was a boy, her baby was Olympus.
'Olympus was another son for the wall.'
Paolo's dark eyes were wet, the husband who was seeing his son, his hand on the doorframe, his baby was a boy.
"Marco," Paolo named, his voice rough and steady. "Marco, Marco Villanueva."
"Marco," Carmen repeated, her voice warm.
"Marco," the room echoed, the room that was Olympus.
'Olympus was Marco. Olympus was the Villanueva name continuing. Olympus was one more reason to hold.'
— • • • —
Esperanza was second, the wife who lay on the table, her belly heavy, nearly eight months.
Alessia performed the ultrasound, the gel, the probe, the screen.
"The baby is healthy," Alessia reported. "Heartbeat, one hundred forty, strong, position, head down, size, two point seven kilograms, due date, Day four hundred and six, five weeks."
"The gender," Alessia said, moving the probe, the doctor who found, the doctor who saw.
"A girl," Alessia announced. "The baby is a girl."
Esperanza's dark eyes were wet, the wife who was seeing her daughter, her hand on her belly, her baby was a girl, her baby was Olympus.
Paolo's dark eyes were wet, the husband who was seeing his daughter.
"Mara," Paolo named, his voice breaking, the name he chose, his sister's name, the sister who had died, the sister who had leukemia, the sister who was gone, the sister who was remembered, the sister whose name was Mara.
"Mara, my sister, the sister I lost, the sister who never got to have children, the sister whose name I give to my daughter, the daughter who will carry the name, the name that was my sister's, the name that is now my daughter's, the name that lives." Paolo realized, the thought tearing through him, raw, warm, bleeding. "Olympus is her. Olympus is my sister living again. Olympus is grief defied."
"Mara," Paolo whispered, his voice breaking, the husband who was crying, the husband whose sister was Mara, the husband whose daughter was Mara, the husband who was touched, the husband who was broken, the husband who was whole.
"Mara," Esperanza repeated, her voice warm and full of love. "Mara, your sister's name, our daughter's name, Mara."
"Mara," Paolo confirmed, his voice breaking, the father who named his daughter, the father who honored his sister, the father who gave the name.
"Mara," the room echoed, the room that was Olympus.
'Olympus was Mara. Olympus was a dead sister given breath. Olympus was memory made daughter. Olympus was why Paolo would die before he let the wall fall.'
— • • • —
Sofia was third, the wife who lay on the table, her belly heavy, nearly eight months.
Alessia performed the ultrasound, the gel, the probe, the screen.
"The baby is healthy," Alessia reported. "Heartbeat, one hundred forty-eight, strong, position, head down, size, two point nine kilograms, due date, Day four hundred and six, five weeks."
"The gender," Alessia said, moving the probe, the doctor who found, the doctor who saw.
"A boy," Alessia announced. "The baby is a boy."
Sofia's dark eyes were wet, the wife who was seeing her son, her son who was Olympus.
Paolo's dark eyes were wet, the husband who was seeing his son.
"Diego," Paolo named, his voice steady. "Diego, Diego Villanueva."
"Diego," Sofia repeated, her voice warm, the mother who named her son.
"Diego," the room echoed, the room that was Olympus.
'Olympus was Diego. Olympus was strength added to the line. Olympus was another son to hold the wall.'
— • • • —
Lina was fourth, the wife who lay on the table, her belly heavy, nearly eight months.
Alessia performed the ultrasound, the gel, the probe, the screen.
"The baby is healthy," Alessia reported. "Heartbeat, one hundred forty-two, strong, position, head down, size, two point eight kilograms, due date, Day four hundred and six, five weeks."
"The gender," Alessia said, moving the probe, the doctor who found, the doctor who saw.
"A girl," Alessia announced. "The baby is a girl."
Lina's dark eyes were wet, the wife who was seeing her daughter, her daughter who was Olympus.
Paolo's dark eyes were wet, the husband who was seeing his daughter.
"Bella," Paolo named, his voice warm. "Bella, Bella Villanueva."
"Bella," Lina repeated, her voice warm, the mother who named her daughter.
"Bella," the room echoed, the room that was Olympus.
'Olympus was Bella. Olympus was beauty born in a dying world. Olympus was four Villanueva children. Olympus was the future multiplying.'
— • • • —
Day 371. 12:30 hours.
The hospital. The surgical ward. The ultrasound room.
The summary.
Alessia stood before the household, the doctor who stood, her glow warm, nearly six months, carrying Jin, the doctor who reported.
"The seven," Alessia began, her voice clinical and warm. "The seven pregnant women, the status."
"Marie, delivered, Little Jae-min, four days old, boy, nine pounds, healthy, recovery on schedule."
"Hua, nearly nine months, Eun-hae, girl, three point two kilograms, head down, due Day three eighty-eight, days, maybe a week, the baby is ready, the next mother."
"Elaine, nearly nine months, Elena, girl, named after Elaine's mother, three point one kilograms, head down, due Day three ninety-eight, days, maybe a week and a half."
"Me, nearly six months, Jin, boy, the fundamental baby, the heir, one point one kilograms, head down, due Day four eighty-two, four months."
"Carmen, nearly eight months, Marco, boy, two point eight kilograms, head down, due Day four hundred and six, five weeks."
"Esperanza, nearly eight months, Mara, girl, named after Paolo's late sister, two point seven kilograms, head down, due Day four hundred and six, five weeks."
"Sofia, nearly eight months, Diego, boy, two point nine kilograms, head down, due Day four hundred and six, five weeks."
"Lina, nearly eight months, Bella, girl, two point eight kilograms, head down, due Day four hundred and six, five weeks."
Alessia paused, her dark eyes wet, her glow warm, carrying Jin, the heir's mother.
"Eight women," Alessia declared, her voice breaking, the doctor who was not a doctor, the woman who was a mother. "Eight women, eight babies, one delivered, seven carrying, the next generation, the generation that will be born in Olympus, the generation that will grow up inside the wall, the generation that will never know minus seventy, the generation that will never know the world before, the generation that is Olympus."
'Olympus is not Manila. Olympus is not the Chen Family's target. Olympus is this. Olympus is eight mothers. Olympus is eight heartbeats. Olympus is eight futures. Olympus is the reason the compound in Manila has to burn.'
"The generation that is Olympus," the room echoed.
"The names," Alessia continued, her voice warm. "Little Jae-min, Eun-hae, Elena, Jin, Marco, Mara, Diego, Bella, eight names, eight children, eight lives, the next generation of Olympus."
"Eight," the room echoed.
"And the Chen Family is coming," Alessia added, her voice shifting, the doctor who was the doctor. "Seventy-two hours, seven fundamentals, the war is coming, but the children are coming too, and the children are the reason, the children are why we hold, the children are why we fight, the children are Olympus."
"The children are Olympus," the room echoed.
Jae-min at the door, his dark eyes wet, the captain who was the father, the captain who had named two children, Jin, Elena, the captain who had honored a mother, a sister, the captain who was the father of eight, the captain who was Olympus.
Olympus was him. Olympus was a father of eight. Olympus was the weight of every name. Olympus was why his hands would never shake. Olympus was why the wall would never fall.
"Olympus holds," Jae-min declared, his voice certain. "Olympus holds, for the children, for Jin, for Elena, for Eun-hae, for Marco, for Mara, for Diego, for Bella, for Little Jae-min, Olympus holds for the next generation, Olympus holds for the eight."
"For the eight," the room echoed.
"For the eight," Jae-min confirmed. "Olympus holds."
— • • • —
Day 371. 13:00 hours.
The hospital.
The corridor.
The household dispersed. The household that had seen. The household that had heard. The household that had witnessed, the eight names. The eight children. The eight lives.
Jae-min stood in the corridor. His dark eyes wet. His hands in his pockets. The captain who was alone. The captain who was processing. The captain who was the father. The captain who had named two, Jin, Elena. The captain who had honored a mother. A sister. The captain who was the father of eight.
"Eight, I am the father of eight, eight children, eight names, eight lives, Little Jae-min, Uncle's son, Eun-hae, Hua's daughter, Elena, Elaine's daughter, named after her mother, Jin, Alessia's son, my heir, Marco, Carmen's son, Mara, Esperanza's daughter, named after Paolo's sister, Diego, Sofia's son, Bella, Lina's daughter, eight children, eight reasons to hold, eight reasons to fight, eight reasons to survive." Jae-min realized, the thought settling into his chest, heavy, warm, permanent. Olympus was eight. Olympus was the weight in his chest. Olympus was the reason his hands would never shake.
Ji-yoo found him. The twin whose dark eyes were wet. The twin whose hand found his arm. The twin who stood beside him. The sister. The aunt. The twin who was here.
"Oppa," Ji-yoo murmured, her voice quiet and warm. "Eight."
"Eight," Jae-min confirmed, his voice quiet and breaking. "Eight, I am the father of eight."
"You are," Ji-yoo confirmed, her voice warm. "Little Jae-min, Eun-hae, Elena, Jin, Marco, Mara, Diego, Bella, eight children, eight names, eight lives."
"Eight lives," Jae-min echoed. The captain who was the father. The captain who was the husband. The captain who was the uncle. The captain who was the cousin. The captain who was the godfather. The captain who was the father of eight.
"You named Jin," Ji-yoo said, her voice warm. "The heir, Alessia's son, the fundamental boy, you named him Jin."
"Jin," Jae-min confirmed. The name that was his son's. The name that was the heir. The name that was the fundamental boy.
'Olympus was Jin. Olympus was the heir. Olympus was the Del Rosario name continuing.'
"And Elena," Ji-yoo continued. "Elaine's daughter, named after Elaine's mother, you honored the mother, you honored the grandmother, you gave the name."
"Elena," Jae-min confirmed. The name that was honor. The name that was memory. The name that was love.
'Olympus was Elena. Olympus was a dead mother living again. Olympus was the line unbroken.'
"And Mara," Ji-yoo added. "Paolo's daughter, named after Paolo's sister, the sister who died, the sister who had leukemia, Paolo named his daughter after his sister."
"Mara," Jae-min echoed. The name that was Paolo's sister's. The name that was the sister who was gone. The name that was the sister who was remembered. The name that was the daughter who would carry the name.
'Olympus was Mara. Olympus was grief turned into daughter. Olympus was a name that refused to die.'
"Eight names," Ji-yoo said, her voice warm. "Eight children, eight reasons, to hold, to fight, to survive, the eight, the next generation."
"The next generation," Jae-min confirmed. "The eight, the reason, Olympus holds for the eight."
'Olympus was the eight. Olympus was not a place in Manila. Olympus was Little Jae-min, Eun-hae, Elena, Jin, Marco, Mara, Diego, Bella. Olympus was why the wall was built. Olympus was why it would never fall.'
"For the eight," Ji-yoo echoed. Her hand on his arm. The twin who was certain.
"And the Chen Family is coming," Ji-yoo added, her voice shifting, the Preta captain, the Right Hand. "Seventy-two hours, seven fundamentals, the war is coming, but the eight are coming too, and the eight are the reason."
"The eight are the reason," Jae-min confirmed. The captain who was certain. The captain who was the father.
The two who stood. The twins. The Del Rosarios. The captain and the Right Hand. The brother and the sister. The two who were here.
The snow fell against the windows. The corridor. The hospital. The two who stood. The eight who were coming. The eight who were the reason.
Olympus held. For the eight.
'Olympus was eight heartbeats. Olympus was eight names. Olympus was the only thing that mattered.'
— • • • —
Day 371. 13:30 hours.
The hospital.
The master suite.
Jae-min returned to Marie. The captain who walked through the heated corridor. The captain whose boots were on the narra floor. The captain who carried the weight. The captain who was the nephew. The captain who was the godfather. The captain who was the father of eight.
Marie was in the bed. Four days postpartum. Her face tired. Her face happy.
Rico was beside her. The father who had not left. The father in the chair. The father who was here.
Little Jae-min was in the bassinet. Sleeping. Four days old. The first.
"Auntie," Jae-min murmured, his voice quiet. "Uncle. The ultrasounds. The seven. The babies. The names."
"Tell me," Marie said, her voice warm and tired and interested.
"Hua, Eun-hae, girl, days, due Day three eighty-eight," Jae-min reported. "The next mother."
"Elaine, Elena, girl, named after her mother, due Day three ninety-eight," Jae-min continued. "She cried, Haitao cried, the name honored the mother."
"Alessia, Jin, boy, the heir, due Day four eighty-two," Jae-min said, his voice breaking. "She cried, the glow flared, the fundamental baby, the heir, Jin."
"Jin," Marie whispered, her voice warm. "The heir, the Del Rosario heir, Alessia gave you the heir."
"She did," Jae-min confirmed, his voice breaking. "Jin, my son, my heir."
'Olympus was Jin. Olympus was the heir. Olympus was the Del Rosario name living past the ash.'
"Carmen, Marco, boy, due Day four hundred and six," Jae-min continued. "Esperanza, Mara, girl, named after Paolo's sister, the sister who died, leukemia, Paolo cried."
"Mara," Marie whispered, her voice warm and sad. "Paolo's sister, remembered."
'Olympus was Mara. Olympus was a dead sister's name breathing again.'
"Sofia, Diego, boy, due Day four hundred and six," Jae-min continued. "Lina, Bella, girl, due Day four hundred and six."
"Eight," Marie said, her voice warm. "Eight children. Eight names. Eight lives."
"Eight," Jae-min confirmed. "Little Jae-min, Eun-hae, Elena, Jin, Marco, Mara, Diego, Bella, eight."
"Eight," Rico confirmed, his voice rough and wet. "Eight, the next generation, the Del Rosario generation, the generation that will carry."
"The generation that will carry," Marie confirmed, her voice warm. "The generation that will hold, the generation that will fight, the generation that will survive."
Little Jae-min stirred in the bassinet. The baby who stirred. The baby whose fists uncurled. The baby whose mouth opened. The baby whose sound was a gurgle. Four days old. The first. The oldest of the eight.
"The first," Marie said, her voice warm. "Little Jae-min, the first of eight, the first of the next generation, the first born in Olympus."
'Olympus was the bassinet. Olympus was four days old. Olympus was the first breath taken inside the wall.'
"The first," Jae-min confirmed. The captain who looked at the bassinet. The captain who looked at his cousin. The captain who was the godfather. The captain who was the nephew. The captain who was the father of eight.
"And the Chen Family is coming," Marie said, her voice steady. "Seventy-two hours, seven fundamentals, the war is coming, but the eight are coming too, and the eight are the reason."
"The eight are the reason," Jae-min confirmed. The captain who was certain. The captain who was the father.
"Olympus holds," Marie declared, her voice steady and certain. "Olympus holds for the eight."
'Olympus was not a compound. Olympus was eight names. Olympus was eight reasons. Olympus was the wall standing because of them.'
"Olympus holds for the eight," Jae-min confirmed. The captain who was the father. The captain who was the nephew.
The snow fell against the windows. The master suite. The hospital. The mother. The father. The baby. The nephew. The eight. The names. The lives. The next generation.
Eight children. Eight names. Eight lives.
Little Jae-min, four days old, the first.
Eun-hae, days away, the second.
Elena, days away, the third.
Jin, four months, the fourth, the heir.
Marco, five weeks, the fifth.
Mara, five weeks, the sixth.
Diego, five weeks, the seventh.
Bella, five weeks, the eighth.
Eight. Eight children. Eight names. Eight lives. The next generation. The generation that would be born inside the wall. The generation that would grow up inside the wall. The generation that the Chen Family would not take. The generation that Olympus would protect.
The snow fell.
The baby slept.
The household breathed.
And the word, Olympus, settled into the room like snow settling into earth. Not the wall. Not the seven mansions. Not the power source or the void or the captain who held both.
Olympus was the fist that curls around a finger and does not let go.
Olympus was the name spoken before the child knows it is a name.
Olympus was the man in the chair who did not leave.
Olympus was the first face.
Olympus was the table where no one eats alone.
Olympus was the name of the dead given to the living.
Olympus was the sister's name spoken by a father's broken voice.
Olympus was the seed that becomes the tree that becomes the forest.
Olympus was the sound that comes after silence and does not stop.
'Olympus was not the mountain. Olympus was not the seat of gods. Olympus was not the wall or the void or the captain who held both.'
Olympus was the reason.
Olympus held.