In realm of Transcendence, in the heart of Eldrathis continent. The world outside hammered a symphony of destruction against the crystalline spires of the Crown Palace. Rain, thick as liquid shadow, lashed the towering walls, each drop a percussive beat on the reinforced plasteel.
Lightning, white-hot veins across a bruised sky, ripped through the perpetual twilight of Eldrathis, momentarily illuminating the churning, wind-whipped sea below.
Here, in the heart of the Ascendant Nexus, where the very air thrummed with raw, untamed energy, the Crown family resided, their fortress a defiant beacon against the storm's relentless fury.
Within, the air, usually still and hushed, vibrated with a different kind of tension. Four women, their faces etched with a practiced solemnity, moved with swift, silent efficiency inside the birthing chamber. Low moans, sharp gasps, and the rhythmic chant of ancient birthing spells wove through the heavy silence.
Outside, in the antechamber, the family waited.
Aevin Crown, his frame as solid and unyielding as the palace's foundations, paced a worn path on the iridescent floor. His black hair, streaked with silver at the temples, usually meticulously swept back, now fell in disarray around a face carved from worry. His soft grey eyes, usually keen and commanding, were clouded with a paternal anxiety that made him seem, for a rare moment, less the world's strongest being and more a simple, worried father.
Akane, his wife, sat perfectly still on a cushioned bench, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles gleamed white. Her own black hair, a sleek curtain around her face, framed soft grey eyes that never left the ornate door.
Beside her, Siara Crown, their eldest daughter, fidgeted, her vibrant black hair a stark contrast to the muted tones of the room. A nervous energy vibrated around her, a constant hum of barely contained anxiety, her grey eyes darting between her parents and the closed door.
The door creaked open, a sound that ripped through the tense quiet. A nurse, her face streaked with sweat, emerged, her breathing ragged.
"The Princess…" her voice was a hoarse whisper, "She has given birth. Twins."
A collective sigh, a fragile breath of relief, escaped the waiting family. Aevin stopped his pacing, his broad shoulders slumping slightly. Akane's rigid posture softened, a faint smile touching her lips. Siara let out a small, choked sound, a mixture of joy and apprehension. Her grey eyes, bright with unshed tears, darted back to the door, eagerness warring with patience.
"Are they… healthy?" Akane's voice trembled with the question.
The nurse nodded, a weary smile finally blooming. "Both. Perfect. The Princess is exhausted, but well. You may see them soon. Just give us a moment to clean up."
Relief, a warm, pervasive current, flowed through the room. Aevin moved to Akane, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. The storm outside seemed to recede, its roar momentarily muted by the fragile peace inside.
Then, a sharp, piercing shriek tore through the fragile calm. It was not the exhausted cry of a newborn, nor the strained grunt of a woman in labor.
It was a sound of pure, unadulterated horror, raw and desperate, that ripped through the very fabric of the air.
Akane gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Aevin's soft grey eyes, which had just moments ago softened with relief, snapped wide, a primal fear tightening his jaw. Siara, her face draining of color, was already lunging for the door.
"What was that?" Aevin's voice, usually a deep rumble, was a strangled whisper.
Another cry, this one a guttural sob, echoed from within the room. Aevin didn't wait for an answer. He shoved the door open, the polished wood groaning on its hinges.
They burst into the chamber. Seraphina, their youngest daughter, lay pale and glistening with sweat on the birthing bed, her black hair clinging to her temples, her soft grey eyes closed, her breathing shallow.
The nurses, their faces contorted in expressions of disbelief and terror, stood frozen. Two of them cradled infants. One, a tiny bundle wrapped in pristine white, lay perfectly still, a delicate rosebud of a mouth slightly agape. The other…
A collective gasp choked the air from their lungs. The second infant, cradled by a nurse whose hands trembled violently, was a horror. Its skin, a translucent film, seemed to ripple and sag, as if melting from its tiny bones. Patches of raw, exposed flesh shimmered beneath the dim light, and a faint, sickly steam rose from its form. One eye, a dark, unfocused orb, seemed to sink into the liquefying tissue around it. It wasn't merely unwell; it was dissolving, a living being unraveling before their eyes.
"By the Nexus…" Akane's voice was a frail whisper, her hand flying to her mouth, stifling a choked sob.
Aevin, the strongest man in the realm, felt his knees buckle. He stumbled forward, his powerful hands reaching, though for what, he didn't know.
The nurse holding the melting child recoiled instinctively, her eyes wide with terror.
"What is happening?" Siara cried, her voice cracking, tears already streaming down her face, her grey eyes wide with horror.
The nurses, roused from their shock, sprang into action, a flurry of desperate, futile movements. They pressed cool cloths to the child's disintegrating skin, whispered ancient healing incantations, their voices laced with frantic urgency.
One nurse produced a vial of shimmering, opalescent liquid, attempting to anoint the melting flesh, but the liquid seemed to boil on contact, evaporating into nothingness.
Aevin, his face a mask of profound agony, reached for the child. From a hidden pocket within his robes, he pulled a small, intricately carved relic, a shard of pure, solidified light.
The Crown's Heal Relic, an artifact whispered to mend even the most grievous wounds, pulsed with a soft, warm glow in his palm. He pressed it gently against the child's dissolving head.
The relic's light flared, then dimmed, flickering weakly like a dying ember. The melting continued, slow and inexorable. The child's tiny form seemed to shrink, its features blurring into an indistinct mass of flesh and bone.
The relic, a beacon of hope for generations, was useless. It was as if the very essence of the child refused healing, or perhaps, the corruption was beyond even its ancient power.
Aevin's breath hitched. He, the unyielding Aevin Crown, the strongest being in the known world, could do nothing. His hands, which had commanded armies and quelled rebellions, now trembled uncontrollably.
A cold dread, a terror he had never known, seized him.
Suddenly, a sharp, piercing wail cut through the air. It was the other twin, the healthy one, her small face contorting, her tiny fists clenching and unclenching. Her cries, initially soft, swelled into a crescendo of frantic, heartbroken screams, as if she sensed the unraveling of her sibling, a primal sorrow echoing the horror in the room.
The nurses tried to soothe her, to hush her cries, but nothing worked. Her wails reverberated through the chamber, each sob a dagger twisting in their hearts.
"Aaaaahhhhh!"
The sound, a low, pained groan, emanated from the birthing bed. Seraphina stirred, her eyelids fluttering open. Her soft grey eyes, still clouded with the haze of exhaustion and pain, slowly focused on the frantic scene before her.
"What… what is happening?" Her voice was thin, raspy. "My children… where are my children?"