Ahhhh… c-cant take it… ahhhhhh! Mary's screams echoed through the lab, sharp and unnatural, each cry sending a ripple of unease down the spines of the attending doctors. Her body thrashed violently on the bed, yet something about her movements was wrong—too coordinated, too alive, as if something else was stirring within her.
"Ma'am… please, calm down! It'll be all right," one of the female doctors murmured, her voice steady but betraying the edge of fear beneath it. She kept a protective hold on Mary, though her eyes darted nervously at the glowing intensity in her patient's eyes.
The other doctor, shaking slightly, injected a bluish sedative into Mary's arm. "Hold still," she whispered. The fluid spread through Mary's veins, yet even as her muscles began to relax slightly, tiny twitches betrayed the unnatural energy still coursing through her body.
"This… this is abnormal," the first doctor whispered to her colleague, voice low and trembling. "Her screams… they aren't normal labor pains. Look at her body… even under the strongest sedatives, she's still moving."
The second doctor swallowed hard. "We… we have to perform a cesarean. Either the mother dies… or the child… it's a fifty-fifty chance." Her gaze flicked to Mary, who writhed silently now, sweat glistening on her forehead, her dark eyes flickering with an eerie luminescence.
"No time," the first doctor said, resolutely. "We begin… now."
---
The scalpel cut through the first layer of flesh. Mary's cries intensified, yet beneath them, a strange, resonant hum seemed to echo from within her womb. The child moved violently, almost as if sensing the danger, its small limbs jerking with unnatural energy. Blood spattered the sterile floor, and yet the doctors pressed on, each movement precise, yet trembling in awe and fear.
Then—eyes open.
The child's eyes were unsettling—one pupil black, the other white, reflecting a light that shouldn't exist in the dim lab. It looked directly at the doctor holding it, and for a moment, she felt a shiver crawl up her spine, as though the child could see through her, into her soul.
Her hand froze. Above the child's head hovered an object—circular, yet elongated, incomplete. A faint, pulsating glow emitted from it. Her breath caught in terror.
"A… A HALO?" she whispered, voice trembling with disbelief.
Mary's body went limp, yet the aura around her child did not. Something ancient, powerful, and untamed had entered the world—a being that should not exist, a fusion of myth, science, and an unknown will.