Tiny Tornadoes & Toddler Teeth

The prophecy could wait.

At least for one glorious, cookie-fueled day.

Tora had declared a break from riddles and revelations, summoning everyone to her and Jax’s cottage for what she called “a soft reset”—Guardian code for “let’s throw the toddlers into a yard and hope no one gets a concussion.” The sun was warm, the grass soft, and the air buzzing with the kind of chaotic joy only toddlers could generate.

Cheyenne lounged in a lawn chair, sunglasses on and her third juice pouch stolen by Kael.

“Yes,” she muttered sarcastically, “truly the reward for saving the world. Theft by sippy cup.”

Kael giggled maniacally as he ran away with his prize. “I fast!” he declared proudly, cheeks pink and hair tousled from all the running. His twin sister, Liora, followed close behind with two fists full of snacks and not a care in the world.

“Snacks are not currency!” Tora called from the porch, half-laughing as she ducked a flying cracker.

“They are in toddler law,” Chelsea said, reaching down to grab her three-year-old son, Darian, who had somehow climbed onto the cooler. “Kid, you’re going to get a cold butt and a concussion.”

“No I’m not,” Darian said confidently, as if that logic made him immune to injury.

“You’re three. You literally got stuck in your own shirt yesterday.”

Darian, undeterred, wriggled free of his mom’s grasp and ran toward Serenya, who stood under the shade of a tree. “Can Miss Wiggles give us a ride?!”

Serenya blinked, confused. “Miss… who?”

“You know!” he grinned and pointed. “Your horse! Miss Wiggles!”

Solana stirred inside her, amused warmth brushing Serenya’s mind.

“Oh no,” Cheyenne said with a laugh from her seat. “Tell me he did not just name your ancient spirit guardian Miss Wiggles.”

“She finds it endearing,” Serenya replied, face red from trying not to laugh.

“You’re going to have to tell her that name is canon now. No takesies backsies.”

“I hate everything,” Serenya mumbled.

“And yet you love us,” Chelsea added sweetly.

The toddlers had gathered around now, faces beaming with anticipation.

With a small smile, Serenya nodded and stepped back. Her body shimmered with golden light before shifting into Solana, her stunning buckskin form tall and radiant beneath the late afternoon sun.

The kids squealed in delight.

Gently, one at a time, she allowed them to sit on her back as she took slow laps around the yard. Liora clutched her mane with wide-eyed wonder. Kael screamed, “Faster!” like a tiny war general. Darian patted her side lovingly, cooing, “Go, Miss Wiggles, go!”

“Tell me that’s not the cutest thing you’ve ever seen,” Chelsea whispered, watching from the porch with Ben beside her.

“Honestly?” Ben muttered, adjusting his son’s hat as Darian leaned dramatically off the saddle for a stick. “It’s terrifying. Like she’s training a small army of chaos.”

“Oh, she absolutely is,” Gunner said, arriving with a plate of grilled food like the MVP he was. “And someday they’ll be teenagers, and then we all die.”

Cheyenne took a bite of her burger and sighed. “Worth it.”

As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, the group gathered around a fire pit in the yard. Marshmallows were skewered. Liora tried to eat hers raw. Kael made his stick into a sword. Darian accidentally launched his into the bushes.

Solana had shifted back into Serenya, now wrapped in a light blanket and sitting quietly beside Cheyenne, who was tossing popcorn at Gunner like it was a sport.

“You did good today,” Cheyenne said, glancing her way. “Miss Wiggles was a hit.”

“Do not call her that.”

“Oh, it’s too late. I’m getting her a monogrammed saddle.”

Serenya chuckled, and something warm filled her chest. Maybe it was the fire. Maybe it was this found-family feeling she didn’t realize she’d needed so badly.

And as the kids finally began to wind down, tumbling into laps and blankets and arms, the stars began to twinkle above.

Gunner came to stand beside Cheyenne, sliding his arm around her shoulders.

She leaned into him, her cheek against his chest, gaze locked on the night sky. “Just so you know,” she said, her voice quieter now, “I’m totally turning our future kids into ninja assassin snack bandits. These three have nothing on what I’m gunna train.”

He groaned. “Why are you like this?”

“Because peace is boring,” she whispered, a soft grin curling her lips. “And I am W.I.L.D., baby.”

Later That Night

The moon hung low in a sky stained copper, casting a dusky hue over a cracked, hollow valley. Smoke coiled like serpents through the air, and ash fluttered down like broken feathers. Serenya stood barefoot in the center of it all, the ground beneath her still warm, still bleeding from something ancient and unspoken.

A wind screamed past her, but it carried no scent. Only the echoes of screams and hooves.

Then—hooves. Hundreds of them. Thundering in the distance. Panic hit her like a whip crack to the spine. She turned, heart racing, searching for the source. Dust exploded on the horizon. Shadows surged forward—horses, but… wrong. Misshapen. Eyeless. Their flesh faded like smoke at the edges, and they charged with the desperation of the dead.

Behind her, the cries of her people rang out. Children. Mothers. Warriors. All running. All afraid.

She turned back just in time to see a figure break through the herd. A stallion. Massive. Golden. His eyes were stars—burning white-hot and endless. On his back, cloaked in shadows and stars, was a rider with no face—only a crown of thorns and constellations. The figure raised an arm and the sky ignited with fire.

Serenya screamed.

The fire didn’t burn flesh. It burned memory.

One by one, the horses around her flickered and vanished. Forgotten.

She fell to her knees. Sand in her mouth. Pain in her chest. The knowledge of loss suffocating her.

Then a whisper—not from outside, but inside.

“You will not forget.”

Serenya gasped and reached out to the burning air, but it swallowed everything.

Black.

She woke with a sharp cry, sitting bolt upright in her bedroll. Her breath came in ragged bursts, her face slick with sweat, her body trembling as if it had galloped miles.

Her palms burned.

"You're safe," came the voice—soft and grounding—from within her. Solana’s tone was calm, but laced with concern.

Serenya clutched her chest. “I—I felt it. Solana, I was there. That wasn't just a dream. It was like… I remembered something that wasn’t mine to remember.”

She closed her eyes, trying to push the images away, but they branded her thoughts. The sound of galloping. The sky lit in flames. The stallion with starfire eyes.

“The echo of a forgotten people,” Solana said gently. “You saw what has been lost. Or what is waiting to be found.”

Serenya’s heart pounded, and her voice cracked as she asked, “Was that them? The lost herd? The ones the prophecy whispered about?”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps it was only a warning. A memory trying to survive.”

She pulled her knees to her chest. “Why did I feel all of it? Every single bit of their fear, their pain… even their extinction. I couldn’t help them, Solana. I couldn’t do anything.”

“You weren’t meant to.”

“Not yet.”

Serenya stared out the nearby window where moonlight streaked across the wooden floorboards. Everything looked the same—but she didn’t feel the same.

A quiet settled in her chest like a stone.

“I think… I think I need to find them. If any of them are still out there.”

“We will.”

“But only when the others are ready.”

She swallowed, lips trembling. “And what if we’re not fast enough? What if we’re already too late?”

A pause. Then, Solana replied, firm but gentle:

“Then we’ll ride faster.”

Serenya closed her eyes again, letting Solana’s strength wrap around her. But sleep wouldn’t return. Not tonight.

Because something was coming.

Something with hooves and fire and teeth.

And next time, it wouldn’t be a dream.