Six years later.
The dusk breeze drifted in through the cracked window, curling around the room like a gentle ghost. It carried the soft scent of wildflowers and the faint tang of blood. The moon, swollen and silver, crept steadily across the sky, casting its ghostly shimmer onto the rough-hewn floorboards.
In the center of the room, a battered wooden bowl sat on the ground, water stained a dark crimson from countless rinses. A towel, soaked and twisted lay discarded beside it.
On the narrow bed, blanketed in the coarse warmth of sheep's wool, Irina writhed in agony. Sweat slicked her brow gluing strands of dark hair to her face. Her legs spattered with blood and trembled with exhaustion. Her hands, white-knuckled and desperate, clutched the edges of the blanket as another wave of pain crashed over her.
"Breathe! Come on, breathe! The baby's almost out!" Kaitlin, the midwife, barked, her voice firm but edged with anxiety.
"Breathe, Irina!" Dido, her elder sister, pleaded while her own chest rising and falling in nervous sympathy. Her face was pinched with fear, eyes shining with unshed tears.
"I'm trying!" Irina gasped, her voice ragged, her fingers digging grooves into the wool. She felt as if her body was being split in two, lightning bolts of pain arcing through her.
"One more, come on... you can do this!" Dido urged, her words trembling as if she could will her sister's suffering to end.
Irina screamed, a sound torn from the deepest well of her being. The pain peaked, then broke, and suddenly the pressure released.
For a heartbeat, the world went silent. The only sound was Irina's ragged breathing, the heavy stillness pressing in.
Dido caught the newborn in her trembling hands. The child's eyes were squeezed shut, tiny fists clenched so tightly her knuckles were white. But there was no cry, no wail to announce her arrival. Dido's heart plummeted as dread crawled up her spine.
"It's a girl?" Dido's voice was flat, laced with disappointment and confusion. She expected the shrill. The life-affirming cry, but it never came.
"What's wrong?" Irina's voice trembled, her heaving as panic flickered in her eyes. She searched Dido's face for reassurance.
"Isn't she supposed to cry?" Dido asked, whispering. She placed the child gently in Irina's arms, her hands shaking.
Irina stared down at her daughter, tears slipping slowly and silently down her cheeks. "Is she alive?" Her voice cracked, terror thickening every syllable.
They both stared at the tiny girl, willing her to move, make a sound, and prove she was truly here. Irina's fingers gently pried open the baby's hands, and just then, the child's eyes fluttered open dark, unblinking, and sightless.
"She's blind." Dido recoiled, her voice hollow with shock.
"No, she can't be!" Irina's voice was strangled, her hands trembling as she lifted the baby's eyelids, desperate for a sign. But the color of her eyes didn't shift and her pupils remained dim and unfocused.
Dido turned to the window, searching the sky. The moon hung full and bright filling the room in silver. Dido's breath hitched with realization. The child had been born on the first moon, just as the prophecy foretold. But instead of a silver hair. She had a jet black hair.
"She's the prophecy child?" Dido's voice was a broken whisper.
Irina looked at Dido, searching for hope or for denial or anything but this terrible fate.
Dido's face was pale, her lips a thin line. "She didn't even cry…" she murmured, retreating into herself.
Irina let out a shaky, incredulous laugh. The sound was brittle, on the edge of despair. "How could she be?" She looked at Dido, then at the moon, and then again at her child, her heart pounding with fear yet with an aching love.
"Please, she can't be." Irina's voice was ragged as she pressed her hand to her baby's chest, feeling the faint, steady heartbeat.
The child was silent, but she squirmed. Her tiny body was warm. Maybe the blindness kept her from understanding she was born, maybe that was why she hadn't cried.
Dido leaned in, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You have to hide, Irina. You can't stay in this kingdom. The king will have you and your baby killed if he finds out." Her eyes darted around the room, wild and panicked. "There's a woman, deep in the forest... she might help her regain her sight. You must go there, now."
Tears streamed down Irina's face. "Thank you, Dido," she choked, her voice raw with gratitude and terror.
"Don't thank me yet... just survive. You brought this on yourself when you ran off with that wizard," Dido snapped, her fear morphing into anger.
The door creaked and Kaitlin swept in, parting the curtains. Light spilled into the room, catching the panic on their faces. Irina and Dido stiffened, their bodies tense as bowstrings.
"K-Kaitlin?" Dido forced a smile, but her voice shook. She knew too well how easily Kaitlin could be bought.
Kaitlin's gaze flicked to the child. She paused, suspicion narrowing her eyes as she took in the situation. "You've already—" she began, her sharp eyes darting to the silent baby.
"Yes," Irina replied, clutching her baby closer, trying to shield her from Kaitlin's gaze.
For a moment, no one moved. The silence became suffocating. Then Kaitlin shrugged and her lips curling into a thin smile.
"Kaitlin," Dido said, quickly before she could take another steo forward. "Fetch us some clean water, please. I need to clean her up."
"Oh, alright." Kaitlin dropped a blanket and swept out, her footsteps echoing down the hall.
Dido spun to Irina, her hands moving quickly, stuffing a few things, like blankets, clothings and water, into a sack. "You must leave. Now. They'll come for you soon."
"Who? What are you talking about?" Irina's mind reeled with confusion and fear warring in her chest.
"Don't you understand?" Dido hissed, shoving the bag at her. "Your child is the one the king fears. The one from the prophecy. Born blind beneath the first moon. You must flee, or you'll both die!"
Irina's lips trembled. "I just—"
"Do you want her dead?" Dido shouted, gesturing at the baby, who remained quiet and still in her arms. The connection between them pulsed, fragile but fierce.
"No," Irina whispered, tears splashing onto her daughter's downy head.
"Good." Dido's movements were swift and determined. She slung a bag over her shoulder and passed another to Irina, then wrapped the baby in a thick, black wolf's pelt.
"Are you leaving too?" Irina asked, her voice small.
"I have to. The king won't spare me for helping you. We'll go our separate ways," Dido said, her jaw clenched, sorrow and resolve etched into her face.
She pressed the baby into Irina's arms, her hands lingering for a moment, reluctant to let go. "You know the path through the forest. Once you reach the center, you'll find help."
"Who are these people? How do you know them?" Irina's mind spun with unanswered questions.
"There's no time!" Dido hissed, eyes darting to the door. She peeked through the curtains and froze Kaitlin was outside, whispering to two burly men, suspicion writ large on their faces.
"She's already betrayed us!" Dido's voice was sharp with panic.
Irina grabbed her by the hand, lending her strength. They hurried out the back, into the cool, moonlit night. Dido hoisted Irina onto a horse, shoving the baby gently into her arms.
"May Mother Selene keep you safe," Dido whispered, pressing a trembling kiss to Irina's brow. Her eyes, shining with tears, lingered on her sister and the prophecy child as she slapped the horse's flank, sending them galloping into the darkness.
As the horse thundered away, Irina clung to her child, her heart a wild tangle of terror and hope. Behind her, the moon blazed, witness to the birth of destiny.