Inaya was just a kid.
Solvi didn't want to acknowledge that. He remembered vividly when he was eight years old, waiting in the lobby of the Rajedra Hospital at midnight, in a black leather chair. He couldn't recall ever staying up that late, but he was still awake as ever. His little hands had been clenched with anxiety. Inaya had been fourteen at the time, waiting in the chair beside him, calm and serene, a splitting image of their mother.
Solvi wasn't looking at her. He was looking at everything else. That's how he came to remember that scene so vividly. He had forced himself to analyze every last nook and corner of that hospital lobby as a distraction. That was something he did sometimes. His standard was "do you think you could walk through this room in the dark without hitting anything". His mind was struggling to focus on the game, but he pretended to be completely immersed in it, even when he saw the unmistakable white cloak of the doctor emerge from the door on the far end of the room.
The doctor walked slowly towards them, but Solvi refused to look.
"Inaya," the doctor said, in his quiet voice. "Solvi."
He gave it to them upfront.
"They didn't make it."
The words had only phased through Solvi's ears and had to come around again before he even started processing them. To Solvi's surprise, his sister began to chuckle.
"Doctor," Inaya said, "don't joke like that. It isn't nice. How long until they will be out?"
The doctor inhaled sharply. "I do not joke."
Inaya's voice cracked. "Yeah, I know."
Solvi couldn't help but look up then. Inaya's hand was covering her mouth and a single tear was forming a trail on her skin. She let out a choking sob.
"It's okay," the doctor had said. "You can cry."
The rest of it was a blur to Solvi. The doctors had tried to reassure them. A little bit after he knew he started to cry himself. He had not cried like that before. He swore he never would again.
Inaya had started to walk him home that night. He looked at up at her as she held his little hand. She was inhaling, steeling herself. Arjuna, the street vendor who sold coconuts in the morning, offered them a lift from the hospital. Arjuna knew what had happened. He didn't ask and let Solvi sleep on a makeshift bed of hay in the back of the cart.
Solvi couldn't help but remember the last thing his parents had told him. They'd told him he was special, and they'd been telling him that his entire life. When he was five months old an old man on the street had given him a Redallion as Solvi babbled peacefully in his basket. They said the old man was a Wizard who had passed his powers down to Solvi with that medal.
He didn't feel powerful.
Inaya and Arjuna let Solvi cry the whole way back to their house, but he remembered her conversation with Arjuna. It was normal, like small talk.
Arjuna dropped them off at their house, wishing them a simple "good night". Solvi had become too tired to continue crying after that. Inaya put him in his bed.
"I don't know what mother did for you at bedtime," Inaya said.
Solvi showed her how to drape his blanket the right way. Inaya did so, and placed a hand on her brother's forehead before leaving, without a word.
The morning after had felt surreal. In some ways, it was almost peaceful, with just Inaya and Solvi in the house. She had woken up early and prepared breakfast for him. She became both parents, running around endlessly, juggling the tasks usually meant to be shared. She had tried to get help from the Foster Center, but they worked slowly, and Inaya never heard back from them. She had to begin working, too, and soon Solvi had to walk to school by himself. She was like an adult now, and that was how Solvi came to see her.
