The silver moonlight struggled to pierce through the heavy clouds that blanketed the rainy night. In the muddy and shadowy Veles forest, the hurried sounds of footsteps echoed among the trees — disoriented... irregular steps.
Amidst the forest darkness, a young woman ran desperately, guided only by the distant sound of the river that snaked nearby. She wore a soaked rain cloak, under which a white dress — now nearly unrecognizable — was covered in mud up to the hem. Clutched tightly to her chest was a sealed wicker basket, as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
"I must... keep going..." she panted. "I'm almos..." her words were cut off by a groan as she stumbled and fell heavily into the cold mud. Her body trembled with exhaustion, her skin so pale it seemed to glow under the lightning that split the sky. The basket flew from her arms and landed a few meters ahead with a dull thud.
"Argh!" she groaned, trying to rise with what little strength she had left. "Help me... legs..." she whispered, her fingers clawing at the wet earth.
Then, the forest's humid silence was broken.
A cry — weak, but sharp — echoed through the darkness. It came from the direction of the basket. A human sound, small, vulnerable. The wail of a newborn life.
"No..." the young woman murmured, her heart racing upon hearing the baby's cry.
In the distance, heavy footsteps squelched through the mud, accompanied by the clinking of metal and furious barking of dogs. Voices erupted among the trees.
"Did you hear that?" shouted a raspy voice, dry like dead branches. "It's the cry of the serpent-child!"
The warning spread like wildfire among the pursuers, who immediately quickened their pace.
The young woman turned even paler. Recognizing the voice, a chill ran down her spine. Without hesitation, she rose with a desperate surge, as if the very earth pushed her forward. Grabbing the basket with both hands, she resumed her run, the mud sucking at her feet with every step.
The river. She sensed it before seeing it — the smell of fresh water, the sound of currents tearing through the darkness.
"Finally..." she murmured in relief as she reached the banks of the Fontes River, the great river that crossed the entire continent of Sestri.
The riverbanks were scattered with pale stones that seemed to hold starlight. They shimmered under the moon, now free of clouds and in full splendor in the night sky.
Overcome with relief upon reaching her destination, the young woman stumbled and fell onto the sharp stones at the river's edge. A muffled cry escaped her lips as her skin tore — her exhausted legs no longer obeyed.
With trembling arms and a face smeared with mud and tears, she crawled to the water's edge. The crystalline waters of the Fontes flowed silently, reflecting the now-unclouded moon like a silver mirror.
There, by the riverbank, the young woman finally opened the basket.
The child, who had been crying in despair, fell silent upon being touched by the moonlight. His eyes opened — two intense golden orbs, as strange as they were fascinating.
Then he revealed himself: the serpent's son.
His skin was covered in bluish scales, as delicate as they were threatening, shimmering under the moonlight as if made of living sapphire. And beneath his small body, between his legs, was a thin tail, coiled like a whisper of his true blood.
"My child..." the young woman murmured, her voice breaking. "You'll have to do this... without me."
Tears rolled down her pale face. With a resigned gesture, she removed her cloak, revealing the dress that had once been white, now almost entirely swallowed by mud. Only a clean patch near her chest remained.
With care and reverence, she tore off the remaining clean fabric and held it against the baby's body. Then, she dipped her fingers in fresh blood — from a wound, or perhaps from something inside the basket she never dared to fully face.
Slowly, she traced trembling letters onto the white fabric:
"S-A-M-O"
"This will be your name, my child..." she said, her voice strained with urgency and pain, as she hid the blood-marked cloth inside the basket.
Each second, the sounds behind her drew closer — hurried steps, angry barks, the metallic clang of weapons being drawn. Time was running out.
With one last, deep and desperate look, she gazed into her son's face. The golden eyes stared back silently, as if already understanding everything. Then, with trembling hands, she closed the basket lid, plunging the newborn into darkness once again.
Without hesitation, she threw the basket into the Fontes River. The water swallowed it gently, as if aware of the importance of what it carried.
"Grow strong..." she whispered, her voice fading into the wind, just before her body gave in and she collapsed onto the cold stones.
"There she is!" shouted the raspy voice moments later. A man in heavy armor emerged from the trees, pointing toward the fallen woman. "We found her!"
The group approached quickly. Dogs sniffed around, growling, restless. The older man knelt and violently shook the unconscious woman's shoulders.
"Where's the damned child?!" he growled, his eyes scanning the area.
No answer.
"Argh!" he grunted in frustration. "Search everything! She couldn't have gone far! We must find the serpent's spawn!"
The threat in his voice was clear. "If we don't bring it back, Arianrhod will punish us severely!"
The group spread along the riverbank, searching bushes, rocks, and roots, dogs running back and forth. But they found nothing.
They didn't know.
The serpent-child was already drifting, silent and protected, hundreds of meters away. The Fontes River — serene, immense, eternal — carried him under the watchful moonlight, toward an unknown destiny.