The birth

Peter, the lord of the manor, could never stomach the sight or smell of blood. Just one drop and he’d be out cold. He hadn’t even wanted to be in the room for his wife’s labor, but she insisted he not miss out on the birth of their first child. He woke up to the iron and salt scent of blood overwhelming his nostrils. His last memory before the black was of the cold, unforgiving floor but when he opened his eyes he saw that he had been laid out on the chaise in the corner of the room, but there was no one in sight. Where was his wife? Where was the midwife who was helping to bring his child into the world? And where was the scent of blood coming from? As his senses began to come back into focus, the shapes around him became clearer. The panic began to rise in him. There was a mound of bloodied rags in the middle of the floor, there was a lot of blood in those rags. Too much. He scrambled from his resting place to the pile, and to his horror he realized it wasn’t made of rags, but of flesh. Glinting in the firelight was a mangled mass of metal that resembled the insignia of the healer’s academy. The midwife. The edges of his vision began turning black again but he fought it; forced himself to breath.

The sound of gurgling pulled his attention away from the oozing mass and toward the bed where his wife had lain the last time he was conscious. She was still there, her beautiful hay colored hair draped around her. Her skin was still covered in sweat from the labor, but she was unmoving, her eyes glazed over. He felt his breath catch, felt himself stumble, and fall to his knees. Here was his whole world, lifeless in their bed. He felt the cry he had built up die in his throat.

The gurgling noise caught his attention again. It’s coming from the sheets coming from his wife’s chest. Cautiously, he drew them aside, layer by layer until he found the source of the sound. Maybe his child had survived whatever evils had happened in this room. As he lifted the last sheet, he found what he was looking for but quickly recoiled. The child was laying on it’s back, facing him, cooing at him, but he couldn’t be relieved at its seemingly good health. The child was fresh out of the womb but it’s skin was as dark as if it had spent a summer out in the sun. It’s hair was black and it’s eyes were almost the same shade. His wife’s arms were surrounding the child like a protective circle. As if she got to embrace their child before she took her last breath. The heavy pressure that had been building up in his belly since he woke up intensified, like an anvil had just been dropped in his stomach. He backed away from the bed that made up the scene before him and almost immediately there was a change in the child’s demeanor. It stopped cooing and gurgling at all. It fixed it’s beady eyes on him and held him in place. For a reason Peter couldn’t explain, he felt as though the child was angry at him.

Suddenly, the child released him from the piercing cold of it’s eyes and slowly turned it’s gaze to the window. If it were possible, the expression on its face could be described as curious. There was a light tapping on the glass that was barely perceptible over the beating of his own heart. Peter watched in fearful awe as the baby waved a stubby little hand and the window pane swung open. A small black bird flew into the room and landed on the window sill. Peter had lived in the house next to the forest his whole life and he knew the wildlife of the area. The bird that just flew into his home was a cardinal but instead of the vibrant red, it was a dark black. The black cardinal flew up and circled the room a few times before fluttering to the floor. It hopped around for a moment before it started to cough and jerk as if it were choking. Then came a loud cracking noise and a black haze started pouring out of the animal’s beak and began twisting onto the floor. The swirling fog began to take shape in the form of a powerful masculine figure. The first noticeable feature that came fully into view were the eyes. They were dark and beady like a birds and as Peter noticed with horror, the same eyes as the infant lying in its dead mother’s arms. His lips were dark and swirling out of them was the same black fog that he had emerged from. The strange man gave Peter barely a passing glance before settling his attention on the infant.

“A girl.” A chill ran down Peter’s spine. The man’s voice wasn’t quiet and yet sounded like the whisper of wind through the branches of a tree. “This will please the mother. You have done well to have sired a culled one.” He nodded solemnly at Peter.

Peter couldn’t seem to find his voice nor formulate a response to the man in front of him, but the man didn’t seem to notice. He swept his dark eyes around the room, taking the whole scene in. Again, he seemed unfazed. He walked over to the remains of the midwife and knelt down to examine them more closely.

“Her magic is already more advanced than we expected. I am sorry for this mess you will now have to clean up. However, I recommend disposing of these remains as soon as possible to minimize the chance of the negative energy poisoning this place.” The man either didn’t seem to notice or care that Peter was still frozen in place. Hiz gaze crossed over the dead woman still holding the child and his facial expression softened. “If it brings you any comfort, I’ve never heard of a single woman who has survived the birth of a culled child.”

“I don’t know what that means.” Peter’s voice was gravelly and rough from misuse and the perpetual panic that had been present since he woke up.

“It means that your daughter is gifted. She has no control over these gifts. Without training and care, she could continue to cause incidents like what has happened here during her birth.” He murmured to the newborn and she became cooing again at once. Peter watched in silence as this stranger picked up his freshly born daughter. He wrapped her in sheets from the bed and carried her to her father.

“You need to hold her. You never know when you may get the chance again.” The stranger gently set the child down into Peter’s half extended arms. “Look in her eyes. She needs to feel as though she is loved and accepted as your offspring.” Peter did as he suggested and looked into the little one’s dark eyes. In that precise moment, Peter felt like every moment in his life has led up to this one singular moment in time. Right in front of his very face, his daughter’s expression was the pure epitome of joy. Her dark eyes began to lighten. The outer area of her irises were still as dark as night, but the inner area around her pupils were a shimmering gold. Beautiful. Peter was deciding then that everything would be alright. He would make it alright. For her.

“Name her.” The stranger’s voice broke him out of his reverie. Memories briefly flashed through his mind of his wife, lounging on the bench in the garden. She had a satisfied smile on her face and she had her eyes closed so that she could face the sun. That had been the day she had decided on a name for their child. If the child were to be a boy his name would be Peter; after his father. If the child were to be a girl…

“Amala.” The name felt right and even the child began to trill with delight.

“So it shall be. She will be well taken care of by the mother. She will learn our ways and to control her magic. And she will know she is loved by you.”

Before Peter could register or react to what the man was saying, he had stepped forward, taken Amala out of his arms, and swiped his fingers across Peter’s forehead. For the second time in one night, Peter was out cold.

* * * * *

When Peter at last awoke, he was laying on the hard, wooden floor. This time he didn’t have the luxury of having someone move him to his chaise. The room was dark and cold and he was alone with the dead. Peter ran to the window, but there was no sign of the bird-turned-man or his daughter. Strangely, this did not panic him. He was confident he would see them both again. It was clear she had abilities she needed to learn to control and Peter felt the stranger could truly help.He turned to the room and braced himself for the task ahead of him. He now had to bury his wife and dispose of the remains of the midwife. He could easily summon some of his servants to do this for him, but he felt that this was something he had to do himself. He took a deep breath and started on his task. While he did so he thought about what the future might hold.