The walls of rustic wood were weathered by time and the elements, displaying cracks and imperfections. The ceiling, made of interwoven straw and rock, had some holes through which the lights of the two sister stars peeped, illuminating the dusty interior.
In the center of the room, Lisai moaned in agony. Her screams, sometimes sharp, sometimes painfully muffled.
"Not long now, Lisai!" exclaimed Aneiti, one of the midwives, calmly trying to encourage the mother in her desperate struggle.
In her eyes, a silvery glow pulsed, the magic of antiquity flowing through her veins, and with a gentle touch, she supported the hand of the woman in labor, transmitting vital energy to strengthen the young woman in her arduous battle.
"Be calm, dear. Nature knows what it's doing," Maryuli, assisting Aneiti as an apprentice, whispered words in gentle and steady rhythms at her side, emanating magical energy from her amethyst amulet.
Lisai's moans intensified, echoing off the wooden walls of the house.
"That's it, Lisai! A little more!"
"I can't..." She said, gritting her teeth and holding back from writhing.
"You can, dear wife! I'm here with you," a welcoming voice resounded.
Henry held Lisai's hand tightly, conveying his strength and support. His eyes were full of concern.
Lisai squeezed her husband's hand, seeking comfort in his calm and steady voice, watching his wife's scene with hopeful anticipation. In his other arm, little Nessa, only two years old. She was relaxed, bewitched by Aneiti's magic, while playing with a rag doll, oblivious to the tension that hung in the air.
"It's coming out! Push, Lisai, you can do it," Aneiti announced, her voice piercing the air like the hiss of an arrow. The baby's head crowned, making way for the new life struggling to enter the world.
In one last effort, Lisai roared, releasing a scream that sounded like the bellow of a wounded dragon. The baby, bathed in blood and sweat, finally emerged from the depths of pain.
Startled, a shrill scream tore through the room. The midwife, Aneiti, raised her eyes, her brown eyes wide with horror. Between Lisai's open legs, a tiny, twisted, pale creature emerged from the maternal womb, covered in rotten slime.
The being was a boy, or at least it should have been. Aneiti shrank back, feeling a chill run down her spine, a dark omen gripping her heart.
With trembling fingers, she brought the baby closer, examining it with experienced eyes. That's when she saw it: the baby's skull was sunken in, its neck twisted at an odd angle, and the flesh exposed, oozing pus. Along with it, an umbilical cord pulsed weakly, linking the deformed creature to the exhausted mother.
Aneiti cut the umbilical cord with a rusty knife. The sound echoed in the room, mingling with Lisai's moans. The creature, now free from its umbilical cord, hung limp, its brown eyes wide open, bulging and lifeless, fixed on the void.
Taking a deep breath, Aneiti turned to face the parents, her eyes filled with sad compassion.
"Lisai, Henry..." she said, her voice trembling. "I... I'm sorry. Your son... he didn't... he didn't survive."
The silence that followed was difficult, broken only by Lisai's anguished sobs, and Henry, his face pale and eyes wide, squeezed his wife's hand, seeking solace in her touch.
He bit his lips, preferring the physical pain. It was already the fifth dead child they had. He then covered the eyes of Nessa in his arm, who didn't notice the scene, absorbed in her own toy.
Henry held back his tears; he couldn't falter in front of his wife. She needed someone strong by her side.
Aneiti approached the couple, while trying to deal with her broken heart, and offered the small bundle.
"I'm sorry," she whispered again, the words seeming inadequate in the face of such tragedy.
As Lisai hugged the lifeless body of her son, Aneiti stepped back, giving them a moment of privacy to mourn their loss. The midwife knew that image - the mother holding her stillborn son - would haunt her dreams for many nights to come.
But there was no time to linger in sadness. Lisai still had another child to give birth to, and Aneiti knew she needed to be strong for her.
Taking a deep breath, the midwife prepared herself to face whatever came next, her heart heavy with the responsibility of guiding one more life into this world, even amid the weight of death.
Some time later, with a heavy heart, Maryuli wrapped the small lifeless body in a rough cloth, her trembling fingers tracing the fragile form that would never grow up. The silence in the house was suffocating, punctuated only by Lisai's muffled sobs and the soft crackling of the flames in the fireplace.
Maryuli knew what needed to be done. With long strides, she headed outside, the cold night air blowing on her skin. The smell of death, sweet and putrid, clung to her nostrils.
With methodical movements, Maryuli began to prepare the small pyre. Each piece of wood seemed to weigh a ton in her hands, the burden of her duty almost unbearable.
She arranged the branches in an orderly pile, a final bed for the baby who would never know the warmth of the sister stars or the loving touch of its mother.
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Maryuli then looked up; on a tree branch, a raven perched. It seemed to be observing her, but that wasn't all. From a distance, the bird appeared to have a third eye, seeming to judge her soul in every corner of her mortal being.
"A demon," she whispered.
With trembling hands, Maryuli placed the small bundle on top of the pyre. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, glinting in the light of the flames that began to lick the wood. The smell of burning flesh soon filled the air.
Maryuli murmured an ancient prayer, her words of grief and supplication. She asked the Eternals and the Divine to guide the baby's soul to a place of peace and rest, far from the pain and suffering of this world. The flames rose higher, consuming the small body in their burning embrace, purifying it of the marks of its brief and tragic existence.
It was then that a shrill scream cut through the night, coming from the cabin. Maryuli turned, alarmed, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew what that sound meant: the second baby was coming.
With one last look at the burning pyre, Maryuli ran back to the cabin, her legs shaking with adrenaline. She burst through the door, the suffocating heat of the interior enveloping her like a heavy blanket.
A new moan, stronger, sharper, erupted from Lisai. And suddenly, as if in response to the mother's suffering, another being emerged from the maternal womb. This one was different. It was a strong boy, with light brown skin and eyes in a shade of red emanating the strength of life.
The vigorous cry filled the room. The midwives exchanged looks of astonishment. The curse had been confirmed. It was said that one of the twins was born dead.
Lisai, exhausted and devastated, observed it with a mixture of horror and maternal love. The cry of the living son was a balm to her wounded heart, but the image of the other, the deformed and lifeless boy, would never leave her.
And then he came out; the darkness was torn by an intense light as his skull was pressed, the pressure hitting him, forcing him through a narrow channel. Arthur felt his eyes squeezing shut and tears welling up; he couldn't contain the scream because of the pain. He felt his body emerge into a new realm.
A blinding light pierced his eyelids, burning his retinas. Cold air hit his damp skin, sending shivers down his spine.
Slowly, Arthur forced his eyes open, blinking against the unforgiving glare. Blurred shapes gradually came into focus - giant faces hovering over him, gentle hands holding his trembling body. In progressive horror, he realized that those huge fingers easily enveloped his tiny, fragile torso.
A delicate hand touched his face and wiped the tears from his eyes. A soft, feminine voice whispered in his ear. Arthur didn't understand; it sounded strange, like a song, but it didn't seem threatening. It was welcoming.
His mind worked; instead of the sterile coldness of the operating room, he found himself enveloped in a damp, cozy warmth. The scent of breast milk and the soft touch of smooth skin surrounded him, while muffled, melodious sounds filled his ears. A soft voice, filled with love and affection, whispered words.
Trying to move, Arthur faced the fragility of his tiny body. Thin arms and legs moved with difficulty, and his senses were still adjusting to the new reality. His developing eyes struggled to focus on the shapes and colors that surrounded him.
Arthur's confused mind struggled to reason his new surroundings, trying to understand what was happening. The memories of the surgery, the AI chip, and the impending death were still fresh in his mind. But how could he have arrived at this place? A place so far away, where?
Was he crazy? Succumbing under the weight of his own ambition, his ego had brought him here. The relentless pursuit to perfect his mental faculties had thrown him into an abyss of madness. His selfishness, blinded by an insatiable desire for transcendence, had led him to ruin.
The world around him transformed into a chaotic place, where gigantic human figures babbled an incomprehensible language. With each attempt at movement, his atrophied muscles refused to respond, trapping him in a frail, debilitated body. His vision, once sharp, seemed to require the help of lenses to unravel the fog that had settled in his eyes.
He bitterly regretted having sought enhancement. Who would have thought that being the first to implant the chip in his brain would soon make him schizophrenic? For the time that had passed, he must already be a different version of himself; he was a retard, tied up and locked in the madhouse.
Doubts consumed him, but physical weakness prevented him from exploring and seeking answers. Resigned, he surrendered to the warmth and comfort of the moment, lulled by the soft, melodious voice of the woman who cared for him.
The being holding them began to hand him over to other arms. This time, it wasn't as delicate. The being, whom Arthur gradually realized was a man, held him and smiled with a deep expression.
This moment shocked Arthur. He narrowed his eyes, slightly improving the resolution of his sight. Black hair and a thick beard. The brown-skinned face touched his own in an act of affection.
Amidst the uncertainty, a certainty came, a single explanation remained in his mind: He had reincarnated.
His anxiety rose, dominating his thoughts. Was he a baby? Would he have to live everything again? But in what place? And what would be his destiny in this new plane of existence?
Aware of his situation, he recognized that he would have long months ahead until he could finally lift his head, sit up, crawl, and, in time, walk. The excitement, however, was non-existent. Perhaps, with his knowledge of human development, he could somehow accelerate this process.
A doubt lingered in his mind: How long would he have to endure?
He pondered in the arms of the stranger, and meanwhile, Lisai observed her baby... a boy, she thought.
"He's so beautiful," said Maryuli, smiling, trying to ease the tension in the room.
"My son," said Lisai, who then looked at her husband Henry, the man already with tears in his eyes and a smile for the success of the second birth.
"Give him a name, love," she said.
Henry looked at his new heir. "Kvolt... That's it! Kvolt! Kvolt Lefebvre," he exclaimed in tears.
"Look, Nessa, your new little brother," Henry brought the little girl closer, who stopped playing with her toy and laughed with a contagious laugh upon seeing the weak and small baby.
And Kvolt observed, lost in the new scenery. The ground beneath him was unfamiliar, the air laden with the aroma of an uncertain future.
Amidst his musings, something pulled him out of his introspection; an abrupt voice sounded in his head.
"Reinitialization complete, 100%. Memory recovery protocol in progress... Memories corrupted. Activating sensory analysis... Activating security protocols..."
"Analysis completed. Hostile environment not identified. Presence of unknown organisms externally. Elevated body temperature. Humidity above ideal parameters. Absence of electromagnetic radiation. Incompatibility with the original installation environment, anomalies detected."
Its sensors focused on Arthur, examining his frail and vulnerable body. The thin, translucent skin and the tiny muscles in constant movement, the eyes still developing.
"Host organism in initial stage of development. Estimated age being less than 1 month old. Vital functions within acceptable parameters. Presence of congenital deformities: anomalies detected. Level of adaptability to the hostile environment: Extremely low. Further analysis is needed. Activating nanomachines for scanning..."
A swarm of tiny nanomachines burst from the neurochip, like a miniature army. With coordinated movements, they dispersed through the biological environment, initiating a detailed mapping of the new territory they now inhabited.
"Identified state of perplexity and disorientation in the host. Caution and patience are recommended during the adaptation process. Initializing integration protocols. Recalibrating to assist in the host's adaptation to the new environment. The NeuroChip Aurora is activated and ready to assist."