"Mumma?" Isaiah calls, sliding off the bed.
Neva picks up the dagger, her breath uneven as she notices the smear of blood on its tip.
Ishmael's blood.
"What is it for?" A small frown tugs at Isaiah's brow as he watches her try to keep her fingers from trembling while she wipes the blood away with her shawl.
As she turns toward the door, a swarm of wraith-like bats shriek deafeningly in her ears, folding into the muffled clamor and the bleary voices from the next room.
A grip on her shawl draws her still, the shadows around the room dissolving and darkening, then dissolving—
The worm-like pain in her temples begins gnawing at her skull again as she stares at the tiny fist curled tight in the fabric, then up to those doe eyes glistening with tears.
"A—are you going to leave again?"
Isaiah's voice cracks, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Light-headed,
she kneels and reaches for him. He lets out a sharp sob and collapses into her arms.
"Don't—" he chokes.
"Don't leave—" His body jerks with a hiccup. "Don't, Mumma—"
Her arms tighten around her son as she feels his warmth against her.
His tears soak into her as she tries to pull her mind away from the heat rising through her body and the pounding behind her eyes.
"I won't…" A lump rises in her throat as she closes her eyes, holding him close while sobs shudder through him.
"Shh…" She cradles his head as he buries his face in the crook of her neck,
her breath catching as heat surges through her in smoldering waves.
Sweat beads along her hairline as her gaze flickers in and out of focus on the dim lantern glow.
Then the bed—
then the walls—
lurch and whirl around her, the motion knocking the breath from her lungs.
She tries to reach for Isaiah, to hold onto him, but finds only cold and nothingness.
The world lurch and whirl around her,
the violent force sweeping her under as her back hits the cold floor.
The ceiling warps, shrinking, rippling, whirling. A wraith's shadow fractures into shrieking bats, hundreds of red eyes melting together, then tearing apart.
Their shrieks blend with cries and the clash of metal and blood. Black wings careen inward, devouring her vision, until she screams through the void as the witch's claw drives into her abdomen, into her womb.
Pain explodes through her as the witch tears something from her body, and with it, something small.
Too small.
A twisted little form, limbs, a too-large head,
blood-slick, glassy, lifeless.
A rotted grin twists the witch's face into Leviathan's pale, browless visage.
Tears stream down Neva's face as Leviathan's mouth opens into a hollow of darkness, devouring the small body.
Rotted teeth clamp down, blood splattering across Neva's face,
and she screams.
Leviathan grins, blood dripping from their mouth as they lean over her.
Her throat tears open with screams, raw, endless, inhuman.
Their hand grips her thigh.
A cold tongue scrapes across her skin.
Licking, lapping, drinking the blood as it spills between her legs,
pooling around her, swallowing her whole.
She screams as teeth sink into her flesh, until it dies, until weakness and dizziness and darkness sweep her under,
when a flicker of light breaks through, blooming, blinding, seizing Leviathan as they shatter into nothing.
Her breath comes uneven, her heart stuttering, pounding, then slowly steadying as she lies still, waiting in the silence.
Until her gaze lifts to a dove chirping on a branch above her.
Her hand grazes the soft green grass before she plucks a white dandelion,
a faint smile touching her lips.
A sweet breeze brushes her face as she closes her eyes, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and comfort, of eternal Light.
A gasp escapes her as she rises, waving at the figure wrapped in flowing white garments, the eternal Light veiling His face.
"Father!" she beams, practically bouncing with excitement.
A smile blooms on His face as she, unable to hold it in, runs toward Him.
Protective arms wrap around her as she collapses into His chest, a soft laugh rumbling from Him.
She smiles against Him,
sinking into the warmth of His presence,
serenity and safety beyond borders, beyond worlds, beyond time.
She smiles as He offers His hand. And her heart aches a little at the scar in the center of His palm.
She takes His hand,
and they walk beside the emerald stream, talking, and laughing, and living.
"I am with you always, My child."
His voice is the most beautiful symphony, the heartbeat of the world around her, the rustling leaves, the birdsong, the whispering stream.
Tears trail down her face as He cups her head and presses a kiss to her forehead.
Her heart unburdened, overflowing with love and faith, she will wait until He comes again.
No storm shall sweep her under, for her Lord the Father walks upon the seas.
No death shall separate her from the Lord,
for her Father has overcome death.
No mountain shall stand too high before her,
for her Lord the Father stands upon it.
Tears fall onto His feet as she bows her head before them, then presses a kiss to them.
A voice calls from the distance, small and worried. She steps back,
sniffling as her Father smiles.
As she walks toward the woods, she glances over her shoulder, a sob slipping from her lips as He remains there, watching her,
until she makes it back home, to her children, to her husband, to the believers.
Isaiah's tear-streaked face comes into view the moment her eyes open. Her hand lifts to his cheek as the dream of her Father settles into the serenity of her heart.
"Doctor, there—" Jacob's voice cuts off as Neva slowly sits up, glancing at the casually dressed, middle-aged man holding a stethoscope and a briefcase.
He must be one of Inaya's doctors.
Realization stutters through her heart as panic surges in a rising wave.
"Naya—" she breathes. "Is she… is Inaya—"
"She's alright," Jacob says, stepping closer.
A shuddering sigh escapes her as the tightness in her chest eases. Her eyes close in silent gratitude to her Father.
Isaiah curls into her arms, and she gathers him close, pressing a kiss to his hair.
"Are you alright?" Jacob crouches before her. "Isaiah came to me. He said you suddenly lost consciousness."
"I'm… I'm alright." She tightens her arms around her son, his breath warm against her chest as he sniffles.
"Just in case, let the doctor check you," Jacob says, his gaze flicking to the doctor, who steps forward at the cue.
"No!" The word snaps out, freezing the doctor in place.
She winces, then forces her voice softer. "No… I'm fine."
If the doctor knew about the pregnancy, if Ishmael knew...
No. He can never know.
And the nightmare—oh, Father… Father…
Warm tears slip down her cheeks as she swallows the lump in her throat, fear clawing at her bones.
"Are you sure?" Jacob frowns, worry and confusion flickering in his gaze.
She nods, pressing her cheek gently against her son's hair.
"I'll inform Ishmael," Jacob says, rising.
His eyes linger on her a moment too long.
"He's with Inaya. Get some rest."
Just as he turns to leave, she calls out, "No, wait!"
Jacob stills, glancing back.
She hesitates, swallowing hard. "Take me to the believers."
A frown creases his brow, but he turns instead to the doctor. "Mr. Sommers, you can retire for the night."
The doctor nods and steps out.
She rises, her son clinging to her legs as Jacob shuts the door and steps toward them.
"Please… take me to them," she whispers.
"I won't break my word, I'll get you home safely," he says, his voice low. "But the believers…
I can't promise anything for them."
"Just take me to them, Jacob.'' Her voice sharpens, desperate, cold.
He sighs and nods. "Walk with me."
She crouches to meet her son's gaze. "Isaiah, can you wait for me here? I'll come back soon."
He shakes his head, cheeks and nose flushed red from crying.
"I'll come back, I promise." She cups his face, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Please… can you trust me?"
His chin trembles as fresh tears fill his swollen eyes, but he nods.
Her breath shudders as she steps toward Jacob at the door.
Her fists clench as she steadies herself, clinging to the memory of her Father against the echoing nightmare of Hades.
She is safe. Unharmed.
Her children are safe. Her unborn baby is safe.
And her Father is with her.
He always will be. Always.