Hallowed in brilliance, light and honor. Priestess Sapphire-Kelly gave birth to a beautiful bundle of joy. Despite its clearly missing pieces of flesh and nerves, the child cyclically reconstituted its own form as it cried for its mother. The Moon in the Hallowed Realm shone stranger than usual, its eerie luminescence spilling across the balcony of the mother's palace like liquid silver, casting elongated shadows that seemed to breathe with a life of their own.
Sapphire-Kelly looked up suddenly from her baby, disappointment and concern riddling her expression. The air smelled of copper and something ancient - like opened tombs and forgotten rituals. "DeAngelo... DeAngelo you were supposed to be here..." Her voice cracked as she adjusted the writhing bundle in her arms. "Your son is beautiful."
A shadowy figure emerged from the darker corners of the room where even the abnormal moonlight dared not touch. Though his face remained hidden across all planes of existence - an enigma wrapped in the void itself - one could feel the overwhelming pride radiating from him. As stoic as he appeared externally, the way his clawed fingers twitched at his sides betrayed his emotions.
"You look... breathtaking." The words came out strained, as if speaking them physically pained him. "I-I'm sorry. I need to protect you. Everything we built..." His voice trailed off as distant thunder rumbled despite the clear night sky, a warning from the universe itself.
Sapphire softly grinned at the monstrosity she called her husband and lover, her sweat-dampened hair sticking to her forehead. The birth had taken more from her than just physical strength - the magical toll left her aura flickering like a dying candle. "Angelo..." She coughed, a trickle of black ichor escaping her lips. "They've found us. I love you but there's nothing more we can prevent. And our son is here—" Another cough, more viscous fluid. "We've already won. Besides, our son is capable all on his own as well. We fulfilled your dream..." She smiled through the pain, teeth stained dark. "Not the prophecy."
DeAngelo traced his partly boney finger along her chin and down her neck, leaving frost patterns on her skin that shimmered before fading. His touch was gentler than his appearance suggested. "I won't lose you..." The declaration came out as both promise and prayer. "I won't make the same mistakes." His breathless, husky tone sent bone-numbing cold air rushing past his partially skeletal lips as cold plumes escaped from various holes in his face, the temperature in the room dropping precipitously.
With trembling hands, Sapphire placed something in his palm as it came down from her face - a locket shaped like a crescent moon, obsidian with dark gold trim and intricate black detailing on a vantablack metal finish that seemed to swallow the light around it. "This is our only time with him—" Her words were cut off as DeAngelo fastened the locket around their child's neck.
Then the world erupted.
A sound like shattering glass mixed with screaming souls tore through the tranquil silence of the room and the realm itself. The doors trembled as unimaginable power pressed against them, the wood groaning in protest. "They are here..." Sapphire whispered, eyes widening as the first cracks appeared in their defenses. "Don't move."
As DeAngelo moved to stand, a sickening crackle emitted from his wife. He turned just in time to see her body convulse violently, her breath coming in ragged, wet gasps. Then the screaming started - raw, primal sounds of agony as dark black swirling sand and tar erupted from her mouth, eyes, nose - every orifice - consuming her from the inside out. Her final scream was abruptly silenced as the last of her form dissipated into the hungry darkness, leaving only steaming residue where she had given birth moments before.
"Saph—!" DeAngelo's voice broke in ways it never had before. His eyes darted between the remains of his wife and the ward he'd placed on the doors now glowing red-hot before shattering completely. Then his gaze fell upon the child.
Where before lay a skeletal being, now rested an infant with deep tan skin, black and blue hair, and piercing blue eyes that saw too much for something so new. The locket pulsed with that same anti-light, sending crackling energy through the air as plumes of skull-shaped smoke draped the child, encasing him in the same tar and sand that had taken Sapphire mere moments before.
DeAngelo moved without thought, reaching to smother the magic within his own child, but the darkness welcomed him hungrily. Pain unlike anything he'd ever known - and Death had known everything - lanced through his being. Ten billion suns exploding simultaneously in his soul. His vision blurred as his own creation unmade him, the cruel irony not lost even in his final moments. For the first time in eternity, Death knew fear - not of the end, but of what came after. There would be no afterlife, no rebirth - only oblivion.
What took seconds stretched into eons before silence reclaimed the room. Only a baby's cooing remained, the locket's power winding down with faint, dying pulses.
The doors exploded inward.
"Check the perimeter..." commanded an elderly woman as she strode through the wreckage. Her blonde and white hair was pinned in an impossibly tight high bun, not a strand out of place despite the destruction. Her elegant silver robes shimmered with restrained power as she approached the child, her nose wrinkling in distaste. "See what remains. It appears that spawn of putrid filth has already amassed some form of magic." She chuckled darkly, the sound like dry bones rubbing together. "Foolish to think they could conceive and assume they could control the fruits of their conception..."
She raised her arms with theatrical slowness, reveling in the moment before jolting them forward directly at the child. "Des Atrum Acroi Redux!!!" The ancient, primal words tore through reality itself as she cast the powerful heaven-like spell. The child became encased in a divine 'bubble' of pure vengeful energy that crackled and hissed like a living thing. "I don't care how long it takes," she sneered, "but this kind of power must not be taken lightly. We will use him as insurance against the Willows. OURS to control and to do with as we see fit..." She turned to her subordinates with a cruel smile. "As well—A return for how his father broke the tenants of the grand design. Grace will not be happy about this once I tell her."
The men nodded obediently, moving to take the child as they prepared to magically phase out of the doomed realm. The woman lingered, stepping onto the balcony to survey the grotesque landscape one final time. With deliberate slowness, she raised two fingers and made a wiping motion across the horizon. The full moon blinked out of existence first, followed by entire swaths of the realm itself, the edges of the erased sections fraying and continuing to dissolve on their own. "This realm will no longer be a refuge for those who would hide from me." The declaration held finality. "That stops today."
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
She turned on her heel and strode away without a backward glance, the doors slamming shut behind her with a thunderous BOOM that echoed through the collapsing world.
---
Emery General Hospital - Labor & Delivery Wards
"Charge Nurse Lynn, uhh..." A young RN fidgeted with her clipboard, her voice trembling slightly. "We might need the doctor to come see about Bethany Mulligan. Her contractions aren't progressing like they should. And she seems... detached. Not worried at all about her situation." She flipped through the chart nervously. "According to this, she's been a heavy drug user throughout her pregnancy. If we don't intervene soon, I'm afraid we're looking at high risk of maternal death and fetal distress."
Lynn sighed, rubbing her temples. She'd been on shift for fourteen hours already and the night promised no respite. "Doctor Evan is deliberately delaying. You know how he is with drug seekers—even pregnant ones." She glanced down the hall toward room O95, the door slightly ajar. "Any word on family? Husband?"
The RN—Elle, according to her nametag—shook her head. "No ma'am. She keeps muttering that she's alone... I-I don't know how to comfort her. She's so out of it and..." Elle hesitated, lowering her voice. "I honestly can't look at her face too long. There's something... wrong."
Lynn's expression softened slightly. "She was dumped at the Cancer Research Center's entrance like garbage. Took medical transport and security two hours to get her here through the tunnel system." At Elle's confused look, she explained, "South entrance is still under construction from that gas leak last week. We had to route through the morgue connector and security dispatch just to reach her. ED couldn't assist—they were on lockdown dealing with a gunshot victim."
Elle glanced back toward O95, her young face lined with sympathy. "I feel so sorry for her... She looks so young."
Lynn nodded grimly. "Found an old Emery Light wristband when we cut her clothes off. Gave her a fresh one but... records say she's only fifteen." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Trying to get CPS involved before delivery. That baby shouldn't start life like this. She needs rehab and a case worker, not... this." Straightening, Lynn motioned for Elle to follow. "Prep for shift change. Pass O95 to Mary—she handles these cases best."
Elle blinked in surprise. "But Mary's already covering two floors! And didn't she pull a double last night?"
Lynn shrugged helplessly. "Claims she's not tired and frankly, the floor runs smoother when she's on." She handed Elle a chart. "Just make sure Mary calls for another doctor since Evan's being an ass. And tell her to keep Helen from skipping visitor restrictions again. That is NOT security's job." The last part came out as a growl.
Elle's eyes widened. "Wait... Helen is charge nurse for overnight?!" She scrambled after Lynn as the charge nurse moved to begin shift change briefings.
Their voices faded down the hallway, leaving only the faint beeping of monitors and the occasional moan from room O95 where Bethany Mulligan lay in a drug-induced haze, whispering a name that might have been her boyfriend's between shallow breaths. Too weak to even cradle her swollen belly, too far gone to care about the life struggling to enter the world.
---
3:17 AM - Code Blue Called on L&D
The scream tore through the ward like a physical force, shattering the relative calm of the overnight shift.
"SOMEBODY HELP MEEEEE!"
Mary jerked awake in the staff lounge where she'd been catching ten minutes of precious sleep, her years of experience sending her bolting upright before her eyes were fully open. She reached O95 just in time to see Bethany collapse in the hallway, a dark pool spreading beneath her from between her legs.
"I'm coming sweet mama, I'm coming!" Mary shouted as she skidded to her knees beside the seizing girl, already barking orders to the gathering staff. "Prep OR three, stat! Page anesthesia and get NICU on standby! Somebody get a crash cart—she's bleeding out!"
The next fourteen hours passed in a blur of shouted medical jargon, beeping monitors, and two terrifying moments where Bethany's heart stopped entirely before being shocked back into rhythm. When the tiny, blue-tinged boy finally emerged, his weak cries barely audible over the chaos, the team worked frantically to stabilize him before rushing him to the NICU.
Bethany, pale as the sheets beneath her and swimming in a cocktail of drugs and blood loss, barely registered when they told her she had a son. When the doctors returned hours later with solemn faces to explain that her newborn hadn't survived the night due to complications from her drug use and the traumatic delivery, her only response was a slurred request to be discharged.
The female doctor—one they'd pulled from the upper floors when Evan continued his refusal—denied the request and made several pointed phone calls from Bethany's bedside before stepping out to consult with the new charge nurse.
---
NICU - One hour later
The same air of elegance and opulence that had presided over the destruction of the Hallowed Realm now permeated the sterile NICU. In the dim glow of medical equipment, a toddler boy lay motionless in his deactivated incubator—a corpse awaiting disposal.
The woman's silver robes whispered across the floor as she approached. "Magical offspring must be broken before they can be controlled," she murmured, extending one jeweled hand. With a graceful wave, the dead child became a bed of white roses. Another motion, and a different child materialized atop the floral bier—this one living, its putrid flesh writhing with unnatural vitality.
"Rot in this world I've made for you."
The newborn never broke eye contact. As she watched, the white roses beneath him blackened and withered, their petals curling like burning parchment.
"Disgusting," she spat, recoiling from the display of power from something barely a day old. Her laughter echoed unnaturally as she turned to leave. "Show your strength all you want, worm. It changes nothing."
At the door, she snapped her fingers. A nurse rounding the corner froze as the woman whispered in his ear: "Baby Mulligan lives, Kimberly. Take this child and raise it as your own."
The nurse—Kimberly—blinked, then suddenly gasped as maternal instinct overwhelmed her. She rushed into the room, locking the door behind her as the mysterious woman vanished from the hospital entirely.
The stage was set.
Kimberly’s Home Life Years Later
—
watching his caretakers with unsettling focus. He learned quickly—their routines, their tells, the way the taller one liked to hurt the smaller one when no one was looking.
*Why so rough?* The thought formed in his young mind with startling clarity. *Why so violent?*
No, these weren't parents. Parents were supposed to love. These were... something else. And the boy understood, even at his tender age, that he would need to learn their ways to survive.
Down the hall, raised voices carried.
"Don't you put your hands on me!" Kimberly's voice was raw with fury as she backed away from her husband, her white t-shirt torn at the collar, belt buckle dangling from broken leather. She stared at him from across the kitchen, her chest heaving. "I don't like how you treat me! I don't like how you hurt me and then expect me to be everything I can't be! If you're so unhappy, LEAVE!"
Nathan's face twisted in rage, spittle flying as he advanced. "Dammit bitch I TOLD you! Keep playing with me, keep fucking with my head! I NEED to establish order in this house! You have to PROVIDE that! Can't even give me the respect I deserve—"
"Nathan STOP! You're hurting me—"
The sickening thud of a body hitting brick echoed through the house as Kimberly's skull connected with the fireplace. She slid to the floor, eyes unfocused, and was never quite the same after that day.
The toddler remembered.
And then—time stopped.
The air itself seemed to recoil as a presence materialized in the nursery, the same regal woman from before now surveying the child with cold amusement. Her blonde-and-white hair was immaculate, her attire radiating power that made the very air vibrate.
"Oh dear," she tutted, her voice like poisoned honey. "Domestic disputes are so... messy." With a flick of her wrist, the television silenced itself. "Though I must say, you're adapting remarkably well for such a... limited environment." She crouched until they were eye-level, her smile not reaching her hollow eyes. "But we both know you're capable of so much more, don't we?"
Her hand glowed with celestial fire as she reached toward him. "I will mold you into something worthy. You will become more powerful than any force this pathetic world has seen—and you will bow to my will." The light intensified. "Because you should never have existed at all."
The child felt fear—but not his own. The woman's fingers trembled slightly as ancient magic recoiled from something within him.
With a snarl, she unleashed her spell. "Biblio Convex Redux!"
White-hot agony seared across the toddler's back—his first true experience of pain. The woman loomed over him, triumphant. "Hurt me, hurt yourself," she whispered. "Break this bond, and the world itself will become your tormentor." Her laughter echoed strangely as she faded from view. "Welcome to your destiny, child."
Time resumed. The parents' argument continued uninterrupted. The toddler's screams joined the chaos.
---
David would have much to learn about himself in the coming years.
But first—what did freedom mean when your very existence was a shackle?
