300 years ago:
It was barely dawn when the midwife returned to the birthing chamber; after leaving it with the rest of her colleagues some hours earlier. This time though, she did not walk with the confidence of someone who had a right to be there.
She snuck in, trying to keep to the darker background, and away from the large glass wall which separated the viewing chamber from the birthing chamber. She'd activated a refraction mask over her face to hide her identity should any of the cameras she'd hoodwinked ever return to perfect function.
The birthing chamber was opulent and serene, revealing no sign of the damage that befell it some hours ago. The Glastone walls and marble floors glowed with the golden and silver reflections of the solar lamps, casting away shadows, and revealing the art engraved on the walls. The wall sculpture depicted the story of the origin of Eldans 3.5 billion years ago.
The birthing chamber was enormous and empty, save for the medical equipment by the corners, and the contraption sitting at the center in full sight of anyone in the viewing chamber. It was that cradle that the midwife planned to approach without consequence.
The linen cloak that she'd thrown over her costume seemed to hiss softly as she crouched just beneath the rise of the wall that held the glass of the viewing chamber. She looked back the way she'd come and was grateful to find it still empty. The sensor lights were still dark too. It seemed that so far nobody had seen her, and as she began to consider that, it occurred to her that she'd not seen any of the Queen's guards on her way over either.
It was indeed the case that Queen's guards presence around the Royal maternity ward in the West wing of the Palace, was next to non-existent as there usually wasn't anything worth guarding. The last heir was born about 300 years ago, and the lack of any more Royal births had resulted in the ward being abandoned.
That status had changed recently, though. But, if the guards weren't going to attend the chamber, then all the better for the success of the mission thrust upon her, thought the midwife. She crawled forward on all fours to the cradle, allowing a small smile to tilt her lips. There was no sound to mark discovery, so she grabbed onto the edge of the cradle and levered herself up.
The Eldan who lay in the cradle did not so much as stir to the gentle rocking of her bed. The midwife paused and looked down at that innocent face as her smile vanished; dreading the evil chance that had cursed her with the mission. The innocence of the cuddly Princess lying undisturbed in the cradle forced an unflattering recounting of her 201 years of life. It wasn't too late, she mused seriously. She could still turn around and raise the alarm. A squad of Berserkers would arrive to an alarm in just under 5 minutes, and surely not even the voice that tormented her could take them on.
She was strongly contemplating that course of action when a raspy voice broke into her musings. "I wouldn't be so sure," the voice said, sounding from the direction of the door she'd passed through minutes ago. That voice was familiar and dreaded for the horrors it had promised and inflicted over the course of their last meetings. She turned to the door sharply and found a silhouette standing there, just outside the direct nimbus of the light in the room. There'd been times when she'd discounted the voice as madness, but that figure at the door was certainly real.
The midwife found herself rooted to the floor with fear as the mocking laughter that she'd come to know intimately in the waking world as in the night terrors, tore from that silhouette. The figure finally started forward, into the light of the solar lamp that hung from the ceiling, and the midwife frowned.
The silhouette was a woman nearly 9 ft. tall, but hunched and clad in layers of old, moth-eaten cloaks that swept the ground in her wake. Her gait was uneven, as though she was favoring an injured leg. Yet what filled the midwife with unreserved indignation was the gleaming crown on the head of the woman. A gold crown studded with gems, and capped by a diamond cap. A royal crown that had no business being on that foul head.
"Is that it?" the woman asked as she came and stood beside the cradle, looking down at the Princess within.
The midwife took that opportunity to better study the visage of the woman, and disgust combated with the fear she felt.
The sparse hair that remained on that wrinkled old head was grey and matted with grime, while warts thrived in abundance around the face. The visible skin on the woman looked very much like old fabric laid over sticks. "What exactly are you?" the midwife asked, stepping around the cradle to get away from the woman, while eyeing her crown. She didn't like the fact that the woman towered over her, either, even if by only a few inches.
"I am exactly who I told you I am," the woman answered in that same raspy voice as she reached out a finger to gently poke the swaddled Princess in the stomach. "This form seems like what I would look like now if I had aged normally, so I wear it in public now. It also does not attract too much attention."
A scoff escaped the midwife's lips as she eyed the woman, then frowned at the finger in contact with the Princess. She supposed it could be possible for an Eldan to get that old, but she wouldn't ever believe that the creature before her was once the most beloved Queen in the country. Unfortunately though, what she believed was irrelevant. She had unlocked the doors to the birthing chamber, and her family would be spared. That was the deal, and she'd done her part. That a part of her still felt an instinct to protect the Princess was to be expected. She was patriotic after all.
The old woman reached again into the cradle, and this time she unwrapped the blankets that cocooned the Princess and looked over her clinically. "I knew you were the one," she whispered.
The midwife glanced again at the baby and her rare genital construction. How the old woman had known was a knowledge she didn't want to have. When the test had been done earlier, the child had indeed been confirmed to be biologically female, but you'd never know it based on the physical evidence. She'd seen her fair share of intersex children, but never one like the Princess. Stories said that the late Queen Ama the Empress, was such a character also. But stories were stories, and can't possibly be reinforcing the woman's false claim.
"What are you going to do with her?" the midwife asked, and was surprised at the fire in her voice. Of course, she wouldn't do anything to save the Princess now if she hadn't done it already, and certainly not with her own family's life hanging in the balance. But she supposed it would help her conscience in the remembrance.
The old woman cradled the Princess in her arms gently with surprising technique, as the air around them seemed to shimmer. Then a chair appeared beside the cradle, and she sat. The midwife trembled at the use of magic, shuffling away from the old woman. She had no affinity for magic herself, and being in the presence of people who did had never scared her, but something about the old woman's talent scared the stuffing out of her. It was more violent and boundless like an ocean.
"I already told you that I won't kill her. It is a simple procedure, and all the better now that she's still blind, with no sense of self, or memories," the old woman spoke, gently rocking the Princess without looking up at the midwife. In her tone was something akin to love. "We will be as one organism, and grow together."
The midwife listened, her frown deepening. She was a woman of science, but she'd seen her fair share of what magic and alchemy could do that she did not immediately doubt the old woman. Why, the solar lamp above their heads was the product of advanced alchemical science, and the Queen herself had fairly destroyed the birthing theatre with magic earlier for her labor pains. Yet, she'd never heard of science, magic or alchemy that swapped consciousness.
"I understand your incredulity," the old woman said, and her eyes snapped up to settle on the midwife. "You don't have to understand or believe me. Your family will be spared as per our agreement. But you on the other hand, know far too much, whether you understand what you know or not. You'll die here."
The midwife looked into those eyes that had suddenly changed from weary to sad, and she felt her heart constrict. She tried to cry out or plead, but her body no longer seemed in her control. A sharp throbbing pain began deep in her head, building and pulsing as her mouth fell open in a wordless cry. She only saw the old woman's sad eyes and wondered at her family before the darkness took her.
#
The old woman watched the midwife die, and an involuntary shudder ran through her. The pouring of blood from the apertures was too close to her own accident in the past to be bearable. She sighed and released the spell she'd put over herself earlier. The disguise fell away as though she'd shed a skin – which wasn't far from the truth. Where once sat a wart-ridden old woman, a middle-aged woman sat.
The dead midwife would never understand why she'd been chosen for a mission that seemed pointless, but the woman did. Indeed, she could have simply stormed the palace and forcefully taken the Princess if she had to, but that would seriously hinder her carefully laid plan. The midwife's sacrifice was not in vain at all.
She looked up from the dead and decomposing midwife, to the art on the walls, sneering. Between the dead woman and the art, she couldn't decide which made her angrier. At least the midwife had died a true death, as compared to the lie immortalized on the wall. It wasn't really a competition, if she truly considered it. She'd rather die a thousand times than have her history manipulated into such an ignorant lie. That was the worst part; that those telling the lies did it because they had no concept of the truth to begin with.
The art claimed that Eldans lost their galactic heritage because they were greedy, and hence deserved the punishment imposed by the Dragons. That was farther from the truth, and she'd reveal it in due time, along with the vengeance she'd unleash.
Still angry, she returned her attention to the infant and was happy to find large eyes peering up at her. Innocent, purple eyes. Most Eldan babies only opened their eyes after 24 hours of birth, except those born with the natural talent of sensing energy.
"Is there awareness in those eyes of yours, Lilith?" she asked, affecting a cooing tone. She wasn't surprised to find her anger receding. It was expected, and not unusual that the child would be born with the ability to sense energy. " A strong name, Lilith. Your mother certainly made the right choice. In this regard, at least," she added, with a bitterness reserved for the last sentence.
The Princess babbled incoherently and reached out her chubby fingers to the face of the old woman. She didn't seem bothered by the cold. Her fingers felt warm against the old woman's face, and the woman smiled sadly. What she would have given to never had made the mistake that led to the present moment.
"Come dear. Time is against us," she said and stood up, then laying the Princess back in her cradle, she smiled.
With her shed disguise, her crown now sat atop a mane of unruly red hair that swept the sides of the cradle as she straightened to her full height. The Princess was still looking up at her and babbling when she reached within herself and gathered cultivated energy for the spell.
She wanted to make sure that no residue remained in the room that could testify to her presence. In truth, even if the mages who came to investigate detected the residue of her spell, they wouldn't know who she was from that. Those who could have known were dead for hundreds of years.
As it was, the dead midwife would take on all the blame. The midwife had died after all, from the activation of the magical wards that had been set around the chamber. Wards that the old woman had been keeping suppressed until then.
Casting the midwife and the false art from her thoughts, she crafted the spell sigil; drawing it over the Princess' forehead. With that connection, she reached out and took hold of the Princess' consciousness. It didn't surprise her at how fragile it was, and she began working.
The start of the process was no different from energy cultivation, and the sigil was just to provide visual and physical aid, given that she'd never tried the spell before. With the captured consciousness, she began the long and excruciating process of mixing hers into it. The ocean of herself quickly submerged the drop that was the Princess.
The dizziness was the first sign that the spell was working, then came the throbbing in her head, and finally, the duality of perception.
She automated the process, then closed her eyes as a deeper darkness formed where her consciousness once resided in her body.