Julius_Nicho

In a future ruled by surveillance and silence, one man’s fight for his daughter ignites a revolution.

Kirion, a war-scarred medic turned resistance strategist, has spent years battling a regime that turned truth into a weapon. When his daughter—Amaya, a gifted hacker—is captured and twisted into a tool of control, Kirion must risk everything to bring her back.

But saving her is only the beginning.

As the uprising spreads and the regime falls, Kirion and his allies must face a harder battle: rebuilding a broken world with justice, not vengeance. Through war, healing, and legacy, Young, Wired, and Raising Little Ones tells the story of a father, a daughter, and a nation learning not just how to survive—but how to lead, love, and raise the next generation in peace.

Young, Wired and Raising Little Ones

The early days of treatment were grueling. Not in the physical sense—though Kael's therapy sessions often left Kirion light-headed and exhausted—but in the emotional aftermath they stirred. It had been years since he allowed himself to rest without one eye open, years since anyone had dared to touch the fractures in his mind rather than the ones on his skin.

Kael didn't just tend to his blindness. She asked questions he had avoided for too long.

"What do you see when you close your eyes, Kirion?"

He hadn't known how to answer. The silence of war? The memory of fire across his daughter's terrified face? The time he stood over a government officer's body, still warm, whispering that it didn't feel like victory?

Now, as light therapy beamed into his optic nerves, he saw something else. The past, yes—but also Kael's quiet, persistent presence. Zae's laughter echoing down corridors. The soft buzz of resistance radio giving updates. The world wasn't just pain anymore. It was rebuilding.

Physically, the recovery was slow. Some days he saw flickers—shapes, shadows, light blooming like dawn under murky water. Other days, nothing. But Kael reminded him: healing wasn't linear.

"Even light," she said once, "has to fight through darkness to be seen."

As his sight flickered uncertainly between blindness and blurred recognition, Kirion also began to rely on his other senses. He sharpened them with discipline—mapping rooms by sound, gauging distance through footfalls, practicing knife technique by muscle memory. In those early weeks, it was his daughter who taught him most.

Zae had created a maze in the training courtyard: narrow corridors of crates and hanging wires. She called it "Echo Run." Kirion had to get from one end to the other using only touch and sound. The first time, he walked straight into a barrel. The second, he missed a tripwire and was blasted with cold dye. By the seventh attempt, he made it through in under two minutes.

"You're not broken," she told him after. "You're adapting."

He smiled at that—small, tired, but real. For once, he believed it.

Kael noticed the changes too. In the way Kirion stood straighter, listened more patiently, asked others for help without pride stifling his voice. Her treatments expanded—acupuncture to ease tension, short meditations that Zae sometimes joined, and long walks around the compound to reintroduce light and contrast to his eyes.

It wasn't just his sight returning—it was his vision.

Plans began forming again. Maps, strategies, contact lists. He spoke to commanders by firelight, his words measured but sharp. His daughter and Kael often joined, offering insight and critique. They were no longer support characters in his story—they were co-authors.

The scars remained. But they didn't dictate the future anymore.

One evening, as the stars emerged in a sky that slowly came into focus, Kirion sat beside Kael outside the bunker. Zae was asleep nearby, curled up with a tablet in her arms.

"Thank you," he said, voice thick with emotion.

Kael didn't look away from the stars. "Just don't make me regret it."

He laughed softly—first time in months.

Chapter 73: Healing Wounds