Chapter 84 Pain and Darkness
Amarien's POV
Pain is the first thing that finds me without warning. It was striking and hot like the flames of hell.
It crashes into me like a blade driven between my bones, sharp and blinding, ripping a scream from my throat before I even know my mouth is open.
I gasp, and the sound that comes out of me doesn't feel human.
My body arches instinctively, betraying me, and fire spreads through my spine, down my hips, through my thighs. My stomach tightens violently, hard as stone, and something deep inside me.
I clutch at myself, fingers digging into fabric I don't recognize.
Red.
Scarlet curtains sway above me, heavy and thick, like blood frozen mid-spill. Candlelight flickers along the walls, turning shadows into watching shapes. The air smells of incense and iron and something bitter like medicine, perhaps.
Where am I?
Another pain slams through me before I can form the question fully. My vision fractures. The ceiling blurs. The room tilts.
I cry out.
"Easy...easy, she's waking..."
It was a woman's voice. No. Several. They overlap, echoing, distorted, like I'm underwater.
"She's lost too much blood already."
"The child. Feel that. She's crowning far too early."
Blood.
The word lodges in my mind like a curse.
My hand flies instinctively to my stomach, swollen, tight, alive, and I feel my baby move.
Then he gave a sharp kick.
My baby.
Relief hits me so hard I sob.
"He's alive," I whisper, or think I do. I don't know if sound leaves me. My throat feels raw, torn open. "Please… please don't let him..."
Another contraction splits me open.
This one is worse.
It feels like my body is being pulled apart from the inside, like my bones are cracking to make room for something too big, too soon. I scream again, my voice breaking into something hoarse and ugly.
Hands press me down.
"No! don't move,"
"Hold her legs. She's panicking,"
"I am panicking!" I try to say. "I don't know where I am!"
But the words don't come out right. They slur together. The room swims.
I blink, and suddenly the curtains aren't there anymore.
I'm back on the stone ground of the nunnery courtyard.
I smell dust. Hear the whips.
Pain lashes across my back, and I cry out...
"No!"
I jolt violently, and hands restrain me again.
"She's delirious."
"Too much trauma."
"Stay with us, Amarien," someone urges. "Stay with us."
My name sounds strange in their mouths.
Amarien.
I try to focus on it. Try to anchor myself.
"Where am I?" I manage, breathless, terrified.
No one answers me directly.
Another contraction rolls in, merciless, relentless, stealing my breath. I feel an unbearable pressure, like my body is being split open at its weakest seam.
I sob openly now.
"I can't," I whimper. "I can't do this. It hurts too much."
One of the women exhales sharply.
"It will be a painful delivery," she says, not unkindly, but blunt. Professional. Detached. "You've endured severe trauma. Your body is exhausted."
An older voice adds, "We must prepare you for the truth."
Truth.
That word terrifies me more than the pain.
"One life," the woman continues carefully, "may be lost."
The room goes silent.
The world goes quiet.
"No," I whisper.
I shake my head weakly, tears spilling into my hair. "No. Please. Not him. Take me instead."
My hand clamps over my stomach protectively. I curl inward as much as the pain allows, shielding him instinctively, desperately.
"Please," I beg. "I've already given everything. I'll give more. I'll give my life. Just let him live."
The baby kicks again, harder this time, frantic.
He's scared.
"I'm here," I murmur through sobs. "Mama's here. I won't let them hurt you."
But the pain doesn't stop.
It only grows.
It feels endless now, wave after wave, each one stronger, tearing me open further, dragging something primal out of me. I feel myself slipping, my thoughts unraveling, my grip on reality loosening.
Faces blur above me.
Scarlet becomes black.
Then scarlet again.
And then...
A voice cuts through the chaos like a blade.
"Save her."
It's a man's voice.
Furious. Desperate.
Theron.
My heart stutters.
"Do you hear me?" he roars. "If a choice must be made, you save her!"
I try to turn my head toward the sound, but I'm too weak. My eyelids flutter uselessly.
"She may not survive the next contraction," one of the midwives warns. "Her body..."
"Then you make it survive!" Theron snaps. "You will not let her die!"
His voice breaks, just slightly, and it guts me.
"I don't care what it takes," he continues, venomous now. "If any of you let her slip away, I swear the South will remember your names terribly for generations!!"
"Theron," I whisper.
Or maybe I only think it.
I want to tell him I'm tired.
I want to tell him I tried.
I want to tell him to save the baby if it comes to that.
Another pain crashes into me, and something gives.
I scream, a sound ripped straight from my soul.
"Push!" someone shouts. "Now! push!"
I try.
Gods, I try.
I bear down with everything left in me, my vision exploding into white, my body convulsing in agony. I feel tearing, burning, pressure so intense I think I'm dying right there.
Maybe I am.
Blood pools beneath me. I can feel it, warm and too much.
"Her pulse is fading..."
"No...no...no...” Theron's voice fractures.
"Amarien!" he shouts. "Stay with me. Don't you dare leave me now!"
I want to answer him.
I want to tell him I'm scared.
But my strength is gone.
The room dims.
The scarlet curtains fade into shadow.
And then...
I see Grandma Chichi.
She stands at the edge of my vision, just beyond the pain.
She looks younger than I remember. Strong. Whole. Her eyes are kind, sad.
"You've suffered enough, child," she says softly.
Tears stream down my face.
"I don't want to leave my baby," I whisper.
She reaches out her hand.
"I know."
The pain ebbs suddenly, too suddenly.
My body goes numb.
The voices around me fade, panic turning distant, muffled.
"...she's slipping..."
"...I'm losing her..."
Theron's voice cracks completely.
"No. No, no, no. You stay with me, Amarien!" He barked like an order. It reminded me of Daevir. I smiled.
Then, I feel myself drifting.
Floating.
The room dissolves.
The pain disappears.
And then...
Nothing.
Black.
Silence.