The first lesson this world taught me was that cruelty does not even spare the unborn.
When my consciousness returned, it came in fragments, like shards of broken glass reflecting different pieces of reality. My awareness found itself trapped behind a flesh that wasn't fully mine yet.
I could not open my eyes as I had not yet developed complete eyelids. I found myself incapable of moving my limbs because they were excessively soft.
My perception of the world was like that of someone behind a wall, experiencing it as far away and muted.
—————
Block nine was at the farthest, darkest end of the prison yard. The state had sealed off this cell section and declared it off-limits because of past terrifying rumors about it.
And yet…at the center of this dark, cold cell hung a woman.
She hung transversely mid-air, as if a cruel god had pinned her between life and death and then forgotten about her. They fastened her wrists and ankles with massive metal chains. Cuts and lash marks overlaid her skin, already blistering and rotting.
Below her was a large, wide-mouthed stone jar filled with foul liquid meant to collect what fell from her body. She was barely alive.
Soon, hurried footsteps approached and stopped in front of the cell. Someone pushed the door open, and rays of torchlight illuminated the dark room. Two men covered in ash-hooded garments entered first. Behind them, the prison warden entered, and a prisoner holding a lantern followed him closely. The prisoner was trembling so hard that the lantern in his hand shook violently.
The first man in a robe covered his nose.
"The odor," he muttered. "Very disappointing."
His companion clicked his tongue. "By now, she ought to have decomposed. It's been weeks. The Tooth Whip should have turned her flesh into paste."
The warden fell to his knees.
"My lords, I followed every instruction. I flogged her seven times a day with the Tooth Whip. I even treated her wounds with filth to speed up the decay. The rot should have-"
"It should have consumed her," the second man snapped. "Yet here she hangs, refusing to rot. She's so stubborn, like her cursed lineage."
The hanged woman was one of the last two from the Sarashu Tribe. A tribe that had long gone extinct since the Third Epoch. Rumors claimed that their flesh had a secret property that, when distilled correctly, could grant godhood. A godhood with no need for ascension. An unimaginable power without the Stratum. A divinity without effort.
Rumors like that breed terrible monsters that seek power by any means. And those monsters had come for her.
The first man strode forward, lifting her chin harshly with his gloved hand.
"It's not enough. Lash her brutally with the tooth whip again."
The tooth whip was no ordinary whip. Its strands were ingrained with rotten yellow teeth gotten from diseased animals and strengthened with poisons. A single lash will make cuts fester, corrupting the flesh to complete decay.
CRACK.
CRACK.
Another loud CRACK.
The woman's skin tore more, and droplets of blood fell onto the jar.
The whipping continued on and on till the man spoke in a cold voice:
"Are you certain she's from that tribe?"
"Yes, sir. "My informant took a huge risk to verify she's one," the second man said.
"She's one of the last two of the Sarashu captured weeks ago. We forged her documentation as you have instructed. Framing her as a political criminal was easy after that. No one will care or bother to investigate her whereabouts after we successfully extract her from the prison and place her in block nine."
The prison warden jerked backward in horror. "S-sir, I think she might be dead."
The man who was their leader raised a hand. "Enough. We're wasting time. Get rid of her body and kill the prisoner with the lantern. We don't want loose ends."
The prisoner froze. He did nothing wrong. He was forced to carry a lantern for them at the request of the prison warden, and now they want him dead? Is this a joke?
The warden sensed this and quickly intervened. "My lord, if he disposes of the body himself, he becomes part of our sin and shares our transgression. Killing him will be useless. We can put him to good use by making him do the dirty little job we can't do ourselves."
Both men in hooded garments exchanged glances.
"…Very well," the leader said at last. "Let him take care of the dead body."
Wasting no further time, the two men, together with the prison warden, left in a haste, leaving only the prisoner behind.
The prisoner stood still at the door before gathering enough courage to approach the woman hanging in the middle of the cell.
"Forgive me," he said with dread in his voice. "I never wanted to do this."
He stretched his hands upward to unbind the chains and transport her body to the incinerator, intending to discard and burn her to ashes.
Then it happened.
He heard the sound of flesh tearing apart, followed by a sloshing noise. The prisoner jumped back as the lantern nearly fell from his .
"What is this?"
Blood and amniotic fluid gushed out, splattering on the stone.
The prisoner's eyes opened wide with terror, and he couldn't move. He lowered the lantern to get a better view of what was happening.
Nothing prepared him for what he saw next.
##
A newborn child was born from the hanged woman's torn womb. An umbilical cord dangled the blood-covered child in midair.
In a fleeting, excruciating moment, the woman jerked her head and stared intently at her newborn child dangling below her.
She mouthed something. The words her mouth professed were so faint that the prisoner could barely hear what she was saying.
Was it a blessing she wished upon her baby? A name? Or perhaps an agonizing goodbye from a tortured mother to her child?
After that, her head dropped, and her body went still.
The prisoner dropped to his knees, and the lantern fell to the floor.
"By the gods…" he gasped in a way that induced tears to his eyes. "You were fighting this whole time to stay alive… just to birth your unborn child."
The prisoner quickly wiped away his tears and took hold of the umbilical cord and cut it off with a sharp rock he picked from the floor. He then tied the cord.
He heated the same rock with the lantern to a specific temperature that wouldn't cause any foreseeable complications and then cauterized the end of the cord. Tearing a piece from his prison clothes, he gently wrapped the baby.
This child's silence surprised the prisoner, unlike other newborns who normally cry upon their first breath of air.
The baby tried to speak. But all that came out was: "Cuh… ga ga ga…"