In a world shrouded in gloom, darkness roamed everywhere, seeping through dense forests and over jagged mountains. It swallowed the valleys and crept along winding rivers, its inky tendrils obscuring every path and leaving nothing untouched.

Amidst this all-encompassing darkness lay a small village cloaked in shadows. The darkness clung to the eaves and corners as if trying to find its way inside, making the village seem even more deserted.

Yet, within the murk, a lone cottage stood, emanating a glimmer of light like a beacon in the forgotten night. The sky wept tiny droplets that slid across the thatched roof, soaking the soil below and creating abstract patterns on the aged walls. The steady patter of rain, a constant, soothing rhythm in the oppressive silence."

The door of the cottage remained shut, but the windows allowed a glimpse into the scene within.

Inside, a young woman, or perhaps just a girl, lay on a bed. The sheets tightened in her grasp, her knuckles white with tension. Her face, though perfect in its features, had all its color drained away. Her black hair was unkempt, cascading wildly over her shoulders. The delicate silk fabric of her nightgown, with intricate embroidered patterns at the hem and sleeves, clung to her form.

Sweat trickled down her forehead, mingling with her golden eyes, which flickered with pain and fear. Her graceful neck strained as she struggled to bear, lull, or forget the agony coursing through her body.

At her pelvic region, a girl in her late teens worked with intense focus. Her brows were furrowed in concentration, and beads of sweat glistened on her forehead, catching the dim light of an oil lamp. With a determined effort, she pressed down on the young girl’s swollen abdomen, her fingers working with both urgency and care. Her hands trembled slightly, betraying her inexperience, as she struggled to manage the delicate balance between firm pressure and gentle touch.

Nearby, an older woman with stern features and white hair, her shoulders draped in a blanket, attended to the girl’s groin.

“Push! You must push harder!” the older woman barked. Her voice, firm and commanding, betrayed a lifetime of experience, mocking the girl’s feebleness with its authority.

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“I… I can’t!” the girl whimpered, her voice small and desperate. Tears filled her eyes, her body trembling with exhaustion and fear.

“You must! For your baby’s sake!” The older woman’s voice left no room for doubt or hesitation.

Standing beside the bed, a young man in his early twenties, with brown eyes and hair. His face, not particularly handsome, bore a broad smile that seemed almost comical. Yet, his rugged hand holding the girl's soft, feeble one provided her with a measure of comfort.

"Come on, you can do it! Just a little more!" he cheered, his tone light, yet somehow calming.

“J-Jack… don’t let go,” the girl gasped, her grip tightening on his hand. Her eyes, filled with pain and fear, searched his face for reassurance.

“I’m right here, Marie. I’m not going anywhere,” Jack replied. His smile, though almost comical, was a beacon of hope in the dimly lit room.

The cottage was dimly lit by oil lamps, their flickering flames casting eerie shadows on the rough clay walls. A large fireplace roared, providing both warmth and light, with a pot of hot water steaming nearby, ready for use. The scent of burning wood mingled with the earthy aroma of the herbs on the shelves.

The room was sparsely furnished, with a few wooden chairs, a table, and shelves filled with various herbs and tools.

Jack glanced at the pot of hot water, ready to assist if needed. Outside, the rain continued to pour, creating a constant, soothing patter on the roof. Thunder rumbled intermittently, a reminder of the storm’s presence.

The young midwife assisting in the birth wiped her forehead nervously. Her hands were clammy and shaking as she followed the older woman’s instructions. “I-I don’t know if I can do this, Mother,” she stammered.

“You can and you will. Focus, girl!” the older woman snapped, her eyes never leaving the task at hand.

Marie gritted her teeth, a low moan escaping her lips. “It hurts… it hurts so much,” she cried, her voice trembling.

Jack leaned closer, his voice a soothing murmur. "Just a little more, Marie. You’re almost there."

A tense silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of rain and the crackling fire. The scent of fear and anticipation wafted through the air.

Marie's face contorted with pain as she gave one final, desperate push.

"Aaaahhh!"

Her scream echoed through the cottage, mingling with the thunder outside. Then, for a moment, there was silence. Marie lay still, her breath held, eyes wide with a mix of exhaustion and hope.

Amidst the oppressive darkness and relentless rain, a new sound emerged.

"Waaah! Waaah!"

A baby's cry, piercing and profound, bearing the weight of heaven and the whisper of new beginnings.

The rain seemed to pause, and the thunder held its breath, acknowledging the arrival of this delicate new life.