Chapter 52 THE BLACK LABOR
When Serra’s scream cut off, even the echo in the forest fell silent out of fear.
Dorian skidded to his knees beside her. His hands were shaking—not from fear of the enemy, but from the horror of what he had just witnessed. That black wave that erupted from Serra’s womb... that was the very thing Dorian had dedicated his life to containing. And now, it was spilling out of his wife.
"Serra?" Dorian reached out but was afraid to touch her. "Look at me. Breathe."
Serra was sprawled on her back in the mud. Her eyes were open, but she wasn't looking at the sky. She was looking inward. Her hands clutched her belly.
"He..." Serra's voice was ragged, like her throat had been sanded down. "He... fed, Dorian. He ate them."
Kael stood over them, rifle lowered, his face sheet white. "What was that?" he whispered. "That baby... he didn't destroy those things. He absorbed them."
Just then, Serra’s body went rigid as a bowstring. She clenched her teeth so hard a cracking sound came from her jaw.
"Ah!" She doubled over.
Dorian grabbed her shoulders instantly. "What is it? Are you hurt?"
"It's coming," Serra groaned, writhing in the mud. "Dorian... he’s not stopping. He’s coming."
A liquid spread from between Serra’s legs, soaking the fabric of her tactical pants. But it wasn't clear water. When Kael shined his flashlight on it, they saw.
The fluid was shimmering like mercury, swirled with black halos.
"Her water broke," Kael said, panic rising in his voice. "Fuck... Her water broke, but that's not water!"
"Not now," Dorian said, looking around at the dead forest. "Not here. This place is poisonous. It will kill him."
Serra grabbed Dorian’s collar and yanked him down. Her eyes were flickering from Red Alpha gold to pitch black. "I can't stop him! He wants out! He needs energy!"
(THE FLIGHT TO THE RUIN)
Dorian scooped Serra up into his arms. Her weight... Serra had grown thin, but the burden in her belly felt heavy as stone.
"Kael!" Dorian shouted. "Find us shelter! Something with walls! Now!"
Kael surged forward, hacking through the brambles and calcified tree branches. "Over there!" he yelled, pointing to a structure fifty meters ahead.
It was an ancient temple of the Void Weavers. A semi-collapsed ruin of black stone. The roof was gone, but the walls stood.
Dorian rushed inside. The stone floor was cold and slick. He laid Serra down on a relatively clean slab—perhaps a sacrificial altar. He whipped off his jacket and placed it under her head.
"Okay," Dorian said, gripping Serra’s hand. "Okay, we're here. You're safe."
"Don't lie," Serra spat, digging her nails into Dorian's hand as another contraction hit. "We aren't safe. And this... this isn't a normal birth."
Serra’s stomach rippled visibly beneath her skin. The baby wasn't turning; he was flexing. It felt like he was carving his own way out.
"It hurts," Serra cried out, tears streaming down her muddy face. "Dorian, he's tearing me apart!"
Dorian cut away her pants with his knife. What he saw made his stomach churn. The veins in Serra’s legs had turned black. The Void energy radiating from the baby was burning Serra’s own cells.
"Kael!" Dorian roared. "Get me clean cloth, water, anything! And stand at that damn door! Kill anything that tries to get in!"
Kael ran to the entrance, putting his back to the archway and raising his rifle. "No one gets in, boss! Just... get that kid out alive!"
(NOT A BIRTH, A BATTLE)
Dorian positioned himself between Serra’s legs. His hands trembled. He had fought wars, killed men, ruled a kingdom. But faced with this bloody, wet, uncontrolled terror, he was utterly helpless.
"You have to push," Dorian said, his voice thick.
"I can't!" Serra shook her head violently. Sweat and tears washed her face. "I have no strength... He took it all... He drained my energy..."
Dorian felt the seal on his own chest. The baby was consuming Serra. He didn't need a mother to be born; he just needed fuel. And Serra was running on empty.
Dorian made a choice.
He placed one hand over his own heart. Then he placed the other hand on Serra’s belly.
"Take from me," Dorian whispered to the baby. "Leave your mother. Take me."
He released the energy from his seal. A stream of violet light flowed down his arm and into Serra’s womb.
The baby paused. Serra took a deep, gasping breath, air finally filling her lungs.
"Now!" Dorian said. "Serra, push! Push with my power!"
Serra screamed. It wasn't the cry of a victim, but the war cry of an Alpha. Her entire body convulsed.
Inside that ruin, under the sickly purple clouds, the line between life and death blurred.
And then... silence.
The screaming stopped. The wind died down. Kael froze at the door.
In Dorian’s hands lay a small body, slick with blood and that silvery fluid.
The baby didn't cry.
He didn't make a sound.
Dorian looked down at the child in his hands with terror. The baby opened his eyes.
They weren't blue. They weren't brown.
The baby's eyes were pure, glowing liquid silver. And as he looked up at Dorian, there was an expression on that tiny face that no newborn should have.
Recognition.
"My son," Dorian whispered, his voice shaking.
The baby reached out and wrapped his tiny fingers around Dorian’s finger. And in that moment, the dead, black trees around the ruin... began to bloom.