The Sun's Lost Star

"Breathe in, breathe out." Relieving hands took hold of my pale wrists, as they pressed their palms, ease slips in my body. An ease that doesn't come close to the thwarting force of my indestructible apprehension. Such optimism is admirable, yet it seems unattainable. Almost supernatural. Being surrounded by these women, I made an epiphany: these aren't humans. Something was absorbing my waves of emotion. On the contrary, what if instead of something, it was someone. Ambition composes my assumptions, which transform into mere conjecture. But no, this isn't normal and I know that. I've been blind long enough! Rage fights pain of labor. Absently, my hands bend to firm fists. I raise my hand to push away a midwife with a hag-like body. I'm so close to my own thoughts, my own volition. When the hag says a mysterious chant:

Ouy llahs netsil ot em, lrig, rof eh lliw ylno ginrb rouy esimed! (You shall listen to me, girl, for he will only bring your demise.) The words are backwards! C:

My mind resets; the child leaving my body takes my thoughts. Grips of ease take me away. Although, they don't take away pain. No, the force doesn't alleviate, but it aggravates the pain, the worries of the child. They're not fabricated thoughts; they're very much my own. Their force of ease sharpens. My body trusts the force, it obeys. All I care about is the future of my child, nothing else. It'll be alright; no worries. The hag pulls close to me to speak in low whispers. A cacophony, women shriek at the unknown interruption, disrupts the orderly manner of my labor; heads turn at the door behind me. What, or who, are they looking at? The hag almost speaks, her heavy breath spills at the tip of my ear. Her hands bring warmth when she holds my head in her calloused hands; her hands tell me her story: a neglected mother. Her scent smells and tastes of decaying lavender. Flowers that bring luck when healthy, but the opposite when losing their life. Must be a coincidence, her touch of promise and trust brings me nothing malicious.

"Breathe in, breathe out." The lullaby of her voice sends me hope, not only for my baby, but Lenix. It'll be a boy. It's customary for a male heir. You have to trust Lenix; it's not like he would harm you, regardless of the gender.

"Breathe in, breathe—

No, but what if it's a girl.

What shall happen to me?

To my daughter?

My realization is too late, it's all too clear now: Lenix lied to me, but most importantly, deceived me. Our first son wasn't his, but a bastard. I loved the child, nonetheless. Lenix was too aggressive back then. Impatient. But how could he figure out it wasn't his? Silas, Lenix's brother and the child's father, gave the child similar looks to its uncle.

Powers!

Lenix knew it wasn't his, because the child never demonstrated powers, like himself! Blood would bring the powers to the child, if it was his. But, I told him! I told Lenix to wait, but like I said, he's impatient. Such a common trait of a man, a man who stole my heart, unfortunately. It's too late now. I no longer feel the hag near me, no one is in the room, except him. Lenix, who's sadistic smile awaits the child that brings no pain as it leaves my body. A child, no. But a star. A star who shall never know its nature. The medicine Lazarus gave me will help the child.

Even if it kills me…