Chapter 8 – The Cry Before Dawn
With those words came a single tear — pure, shimmering, falling like a prayer.
And the moment it touched the baby's cheek… something stirred within his chest.
At first, it was faint — a flicker.
Then a spark.
Then—
Thump.
The midwife froze. Her eyes widened as a green light burst from her palms — uncontrolled, alive — and flowed into the baby.
The glow enveloped him, flooding into every part of his tiny body.
His eyelids flinched.
Another heartbeat sounded — stronger this time, steady and defiant.
The old woman gasped and staggered back. The man stumbled forward, disbelief etched across his trembling face.
> "He's… alive?"
The woman still holding her son smiled weakly through her tears.
> "I told you," she whispered, voice soft and certain. "He's just a little late."
And then—
The child cried.
Not a normal cry.
It was deep and resonant — a sound that shook the air itself.
The candles in the hut flickered violently, the windows rattled, and outside, the forest trees bent as if bowing before an unseen power.
The midwife fell to her knees, her voice trembling.
> "T-That's… no ordinary child…"
The man stood frozen, unable to move, unable to breathe.
The green light faded slowly from the baby's body, leaving behind a gentle glow — and eyes far too knowing for a newborn.
Joshua had returned.
He blinked slowly, his gaze calm and distant, as though recognizing the world around him.
A faint whisper drifted through his mind — soft, divine, fading like the last echo of a dream:
> "Live freely… prosper in this new world…"
Then — silence.
His eyelids grew heavy. The baby's breathing slowed. He fell asleep peacefully in his mother's arms.
She pressed her forehead to his, tears still glistening in her eyes.
> "Welcome home, Joshua."
Outside, the night wind stirred.
Somewhere far above, unseen by mortal eyes, a single chime rang — the sound of celestial bells marking the arrival of something the world was not ready for.
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