A streak of black darted past the window. Willa glanced at the window nervously. “Can you push?”
Orla whirled her hand and one of the pillows flew from the bed. She caught it mid-air, took a deep breath, gritted her teeth, and pushed. She shoved her face into the pillow, muting the sounds of her groans. Her face turned pink with strain, and, after a moment, she collapsed against her sister.
“Good, good,” Willa soothed. “I can sense it. They’re almost here. Hang in there.”
Orla sat back up and gritted her teeth once more. Spittle flew from her mouth, veins popping along her neck as she pushed.
And just like that, out came one rosy, pink baby girl, tiny hands balled into fists, ready to fight the world. A mass of fire-red hair covered her tiny head, two pedicles dotting the top. She opened her mouth and let loose a scream.
Willa extricated herself from behind Orla and rushed to the baby, scooping her up in her arms. She grabbed the blade from her satchel and cut the umbilical cord. The baby whined in her arms, her face red and angry.
“Orla!” Willa exclaimed. “Look at her!” She held the baby to her sister, who sagged against the wall.
Orla took her daughter in her arms, a warmth spreading through her like a summer’s day. “Ellysia,” she whispered.
A soft smile stole across Willa’s face. “That’s perfect, Orla. For the light. Just like the oracle said.”
Orla’s face fell, and she handed her daughter back to her sister. “Take her.”
“What? Don’t you want to hold her?” Willa asked, face wrinkled in something like pity, or sadness. Or both.
Another contraction began to roll through her. Orla shook her head. “No,” she moaned. “Get her out of here. Take her somewhere safe.”
Willa paused. “Wh—no. You still have one more. That wasn’t the plan.”
“Go, Willa,” Orla commanded. “Cora is close. If you can’t save both, at least save one.”
Willa’s face contorted in protest. “I can’t leave you here like this.”
Orla snarled, her teeth flashing. “You made me a promise. You put us in this position when you summoned Cora. Go. Now.”
Willa’s face fell, but she grabbed a discarded blanket and wrapped the baby in it, swaddling her tiny body tightly. She tucked her to her chest and fled the abandoned house.
After waves of contractions, nearly cracking a tooth from gnashing her teeth together, and straining every muscle in her body to push, the second baby finally came. Orla leaned over and scooped her up, desperate to have her in her arms. This one, also born with two pedicles, had hair as white as snow, just like her mother.
“Maerellis,” she whispered. “Another source of light to shine upon the kingdom.”
Orla cradled her in her arms, eyes twinkling as she surveyed every inch of her daughter—her tiny nose, her delicate pointed ears, her scrunched fingers and toes. A tear spilled from her eye, landing on her daughter’s forehead with a tiny plunk.
The front door opened with a creak. Orla set the baby between her and the wall, shifting her body to defend her daughter’s life with her own. She snatched the knife from the floor and readied herself. The bedroom door opened, but it was only Willa.
She held her hands up. Empty.
Ellysia was gone.
“She’s safe,” Willa whispered. “I found afamily for her.”
Orla had dozens of questions, but she swallowed them. None of them mattered.
The baby with hair white as snow cooed softly behind Orla, and Willa’s eyes lit up at the sound.
Orla reached behind her and picked her daughter back up. “Her name is Maerellis. You have to take her and go. Now,” she plead, eyes filling with tears.
A bang came from the front room. The sound of the front door being broken down, splintered into pieces.
The color drained from Orla’s face and she severed the umbilical cord in one motion. She held her daughter out to Willa with trembling arms, and Willa tucked the baby against her chest. Orla tried to get up but stumbled and fell back to the floor. She pointed to the window in the bedroom in silent plea and Willa sprinted toward it.
But it was too late.
