The pain was relentless, like towering waves crashing against the walls of my body, forcing the child downward. My groan turned into a guttural cry as I bore down with everything I had left.
Then, a sudden release.
A wail filled the air.
The midwife’s voice was calm yet insistent. “Another push—you must deliver the placenta.”
I gasped for air, my strength nearly spent, but I obeyed.
“Beautiful,” she praised. Then, she placed something warm and slippery on my chest. “Here’s your baby girl.”
Tears welled in my eyes as I looked down at her—tiny, perfect, alive.
She let out a hiccupping cry, and I joined her, my sobs spilling into the air, thick with relief, love, and exhaustion. My husband wept beside me, pressing kisses against my temple, against our daughter’s head.
The midwife clipped the cord, placing the placenta in a basin. With her hands on her hips, she beamed at us.
“We have another beautiful daughter,” my husband blubbered. “Everything is perfect.”
He placed his large hand along her delicate back, and she quieted instantly.
Then, a bolt of alarm shot up my spine.
I gripped his wrist. “Do you have news of Malik?”
His joyful expression faltered.
“Darling, you need to rest,” he said gently. “Care for our child.” His eyes glistened with love, but I saw shadows creeping behind them.
“They’re going to find us,” I whispered, my gaze darting around the dimly lit room. The walls felt too thin, the darkness pressing in. “They’ll kill us. We’ve been running too long. We need to find Malik. Only he can help us.”
“Shhh, my love,” my husband soothed, brushing damp hair from my face. “I’ll take care of everything. Shhh.”
His words were soft, but they did nothing to quiet the terror crawling beneath my skin.
Because deep down, I knew?—
We were already running out of time.
Then, his shushing noises shifted, morphing into the crackle of flames.
The dream changed.
I was propelled into lucidity, thrust into an inferno.
My breasts hung swollen and aching with milk.
Around me, flames raged, devouring the village and tearing homes into cinders. Smoke thickened the air, burning my throat. The heat blistered my skin.
And at my feet?—
My son.
His small, lifeless body lay motionless on the scorched earth.
“No!” A scream tore from my throat. “No, no, no, no!”
My hand latches onto the hilt of a sword hanging on the wall. But my arms were too weak to wield it.
