The night was quiet. Whether he should take this as a blessing or a curse, Lance didn’t know. The cursed ‘Tree of Flame’ seemed to look bloodier than ever; no doubt the death rate was high today. However, today, on the 8th day of the 8th moon cycle, the princess of elves, Mara Da’Lon, was to be born. If he strained his ears, Lance thought he could hear the wailing of a baby, but it must be wishful thinking because the infirmary was high in the castle. Although—

“Lance,” Nyx grunted. “You hear that?” They were both standing outside of fortified gates, holding sharpened spears and wearing full sets of armor, far from the castle. The wailing couldn’t be coming from the castle.

“Babies cry often. Some peasant must have left a child nearby, or—”

“No, no, listen, Lance. Look.” Nyx pointed far ahead, where the trees thickened and twisted in on themselves. During the day, the forest looks beautiful; at night, it looks haunted—you wouldn’t want to set foot inside it.

That was nothing new, though. A smear of white was cradled among the tree roots as if the tree was its mother. The bundle was cooing, and Lance could hear it as clearly as if it was nearby. The wind must be carrying the sound…

“Nyx, stop being hysteric. I said it’s probably just—”

“It has wings, Lancelot,” Nyx spat mockingly. “It’s a glowing bundle with black wings. It’s more than a month old—”

“Maybe so,” Lance said, stung.

“I’m going to look.”

“We were instructed not to leave our post for anything—”

“Quiet, puppet. I suspect wild magic is involved.”

“Then it’s dangerous.”

Nyx did not listen to Lance, walking away from their post toward the glowing bundle, their armor clanking uncomfortably loudly in the unnaturally silent night. Lance winced but stayed where he was. He did not want to get in trouble over some winged baby.

“It has black eyes!” Nyx called. He had picked up the bundle and was cradling it like a baby.

“Then it’s a demon of sorts—put it down, for Queen’s sake! You’re going to get us killed or in trouble—”

“It looks human, Nyx said, smiling at the bundle. “It may be affected by wild magic, but—it’s just a human baby.”

“We can’t be picking up random babies! We have been assigned to guard the damned gate!”

They didn’t seem to hear Lance. Lance groaned, glancing around to make sure no one was coming.

Someone was, in fact, coming.

***

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Nyx and Lance had been summoned to the meeting hall, replaced immediately by two other guards. Nyx had insisted on taking the baby with them, to which Lance rolled his eyes in exasperation. He’d always known their heart was too soft to be a knight.

The king was fussing over his wife, whose emerald gown was spotted with blood but looked otherwise scrupulous. The queen kept pushing his concerns aside coldly; the king looked hurt. He sat up straight, masking his emotions when he saw Nyx and Lance enter. They kneeled.

“What,” the queen said with disgust, “is that?” She motioned to the bundle in Nyx’s arms.

“Your Majesty,” Nyx said. “There was a baby outside, by the gates. He’s not—”

“A baby is not something to leave your post over. Besides that, other guards heard you two arguing! Explain yourself,” she snapped.

“As I was trying to—” Nyx cut themselves off, catching Lance’s sidelong glare. They cleared their throat. “The baby is a product of dark magic, we—I think. He’s radiating a magical aura and—look.” Their voice was filled with awe as they unwrapped the baby’s cocoon-like blanket, which fell away to reveal…wings.

Black as spilled ink and shimmery, the wings were slightly longer than the baby’s armspan. They twitched and flexed as the baby cooed up at Nyx. Thinly veiled shock filled the queen’s features, and the king’s face filled with worry once more.

“Is that a—?” the king started before the queen cut him off.

“This is nothing to worry about,” the queen said coolly. “Lance, take him to the infirmary. He shall be raised with the heir.”

Lance and Nyx looked at each other as if they mutually understood that, based on the queen’s response, the baby was something to be worried about.

***

On the Beach Caves on the Eastern coast, another child was being born.

The mother was an ehlder, her skin a pale greenish hue, her limbs slightly too long to be human proportions. Her skin was beaded with sweat, but there was no other indication that she was in pain or any discomfort at all. Her dark hair was pulled back into a knot.

She had her newborn child held in her arms. Despite the child’s father…the baby looked almost human. Its ears were pointed, its hair a golden blonde, and it did not cry, but if not for the ears, it would seem almost like an odd baby.

The mother never got time to see the gender of the child.

Her sibling, with pale blue skin, cropped black hair, and a lot of facial piercings entered the cave. The child’s nose had the same hooked curve at the bridge…

“Take my child, Eridna. You know what you must do,” the mother said, a lonely tear escaping from her eye. Eridna said nothing, only nodded, gingerly taking the newborn and wrapping it up in a cloth that smelled of rotting meat. None of the demons would question it. The ehlders were labor slaves as well as sex slaves to these demons.

The mother heard the clicking of claws and gravel crunching over a heavy body. “Go, go!” she whispered urgently. Eridna vanished moments before the demon entered the cave. He was easily 7 or 8 feet, with spines on his back making him taller. He barely fit in the cave, and the spikes scraped the rock above him with a sickening screech.

“Child,” the demon growled. “Heard…child has been born…where is m’ child?”

“The child didn’t make it,” the mother said, letting the tears fall. Weakness was appropriate now, and misleading. “It was stillborn.”

“No!” the demon screamed. “I smell! Smell life! Where—?”

“The only life in here is mine,” the mother said, reaching for a knife. The demon spotted the glint of the blade. Oh, no.

“Not anymore,” the demon said as he lopped her head off with a slice of his giant talon.