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墨書 Inktalez
The servant's voice rang out like a bell, breaking the tense silence in the disordered study.
“Madam… she…” the servant stammered, panic evident in his eyes, “she’s in labor!”
Though Luna still resembled an infant, she understood the gravity of the situation.
A wave of coldness washed over her, fear engulfing her like a rising tide.
She recalled the perilous moments when she first entered this magical world, where even lives surrounded by magic were as fragile as glass threads.
Her small face turned pale, and her body trembled, an outward manifestation of her inner terror.
This was not merely sympathy for the suffering woman; it was a strong echo of her own near-death experiences, vividly reminding her how thin the line between life and death truly was.
Aelia had just endured a fierce confrontation with her husband and had yet to recover from the shock when she immediately felt Luna's pain, as if struck by lightning.
Her anger dissipated in an instant, replaced by a powerful maternal instinct.
She swiftly gathered the little girl into her arms, her movements gentle yet firm, providing support amidst the emotional storm swirling around them.
“Shh, Little One,” she whispered softly, her voice soothing like Cedar Balm, dispelling the chaos surrounding them. “It will be alright. We will handle this.” Though her words were directed at Luna, they were also a desperate plea to herself—a fragile hope in the face of mounting anxiety.
Holding Luna tightly, the warmth of the child felt like a tangible anchor in an uncertain sea.
The child's unmasked innocent fear resonated with Aelia's own dread; they shared a common vulnerability in the face of life's unpredictable cruelty.
In Aelia's warm embrace, Luna's trembling gradually subsided, replaced by a quiet determination.
She clutched Aelia's skirt tightly, her little fingers sinking deep into the soft fabric as she sought comfort.
“Will… will she be alright?” she asked softly, her voice so faint it was nearly drowned out by her own racing heartbeat.
This question hung heavily in the air, a testament to the child's innate compassion; her concern for a life she barely knew overshadowed her own fear.
It reflected the desperate hope within every heart—a prayer for a good outcome amid seemingly worsening circumstances.
Aelia felt both worry for the woman in labor and lingering anger over her husband's betrayal; she could not provide a definitive answer.
All she could do was gently squeeze Luna's hand, silently promising to do everything in her power.
“We need to go to her,” she said, urgency creeping into her tone.
The overturned furniture and scattered papers in the study were stark symbols of her shattered trust, but at that moment, they were cast aside from her mind.
The crisis at hand demanded her attention; it was a tangible problem she could address and a temporary solace from the emotional turmoil within her heart.
Aelia held Luna securely and resolutely stepped out of the room, her footsteps urgent and determined as she focused solely on reaching the delivery room as quickly as possible.
Her hurried footsteps echoed with her racing heartbeat, anxiety thickening in the air around them.
The usually bustling corridors of the castle were eerily quiet now; servants huddled in corners, whispering softly with worried expressions on their faces.
A tense atmosphere filled the air, an ominous premonition casting shadows over them all.
With every step they took, they drew closer to the source of their anxiety, inching nearer to the heart of the crisis. They hurried through the winding corridors, the faint cries of pain from the delivery room growing louder and more urgent, each sound piercing Aelia's already taut nerves like a sharp blade.
Luna sensed the escalating tension in the air and buried her face deeper into Aelia's neck, her small body stiffening with fear. The once vibrant colors of the castle walls seemed to blur into an indistinguishable gray, rendering everything outside their small world irrelevant.
At that moment, the most important thing was to reach the delivery room and provide comfort and support as best they could. Finally, they arrived at the door, where muffled gasps and hurried whispers seeped through the thick wooden barrier. Aelia paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob, hesitating for a moment before pushing it open.
What awaited them beyond the door was unknown; hope and fear intertwined, creating a palpable sense of anticipation. Taking a deep breath to prepare for the scene that would unfold before her, she pushed the door open…
“Is there… is there anything we can do?” a weary voice asked softly, the words hanging heavily in the air, filled with desperate pleading.
Inside the delivery room was a chaotic yet orderly scene. Midwives bustled about, their faces grave under flickering candlelight. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and… well, the unmistakable odor of childbirth weighed down like a heavy object, making it hard to breathe.
At the center of it all lay the lady on a pile of linen soaked with sweat; her face contorted in pain as she let out a choked cry. Lucius knelt beside the bed, his usually pristine magic robe crumpled and his face etched with worry, as if he had aged ten years in an instant. He appeared utterly helpless, a stark contrast to the proud and somewhat arrogant figure Luna had previously known.
Seeing him so vulnerable sent a strange pang through Luna's chest. It was as if she thought, “Wow,” even handsome men can suffer, can't they?
Qin Si stood by the lady's head, her eye sockets reddened as she gently wiped her forehead with a cool cloth. When Aelia and the others entered, she cast a grateful glance at Aelia—a silent thank you acknowledging her support.
Aelia quickly moved to the bedside; years of managing a magical family had honed her instincts into immediate action. “Qin Si, bring me some warming potions,” she commanded, her voice calm despite her inner turmoil.
She reached out a hand to Lucius. “How long has she been in labor?”
Lucius gripped her hand tightly, his hold surprisingly strong. “Since dusk,” he said hoarsely. “The labor pains… haven’t stopped. The midwives… they said something isn’t right.” He swallowed hard, his gaze anxiously darting to his wife’s pale face.
“She said… there might be complications.”
At that moment, the atmosphere of tension intensified further. You could almost taste the fear hanging in the air.
The Chief Midwife stepped forward, her face etched with countless stories of childbirth and moments of life and death. Her voice, though low, carried an authoritative weight.
“Madam,” she said to Aelia, “the baby… is stuck. The mother is running out of strength. We can try to turn the baby’s position, but…” She hesitated, glancing at Lucius, “…there’s another way. A… less conventional way.”
Lucius suddenly lifted his head. “What way? Tell me quickly!”
The Midwife took a deep breath.
“We can… induce labor with magic. Using a carefully woven Spell to accelerate the birthing process, allowing… the baby to be born safely. But…” She paused again, concern flickering in her eyes, “this is not without risks. The magic… could affect the baby, or the mother, or possibly both.”
The room fell into a stunned silence. The only sounds were the heavy breaths of the lady and the frantic chirping of a nearby cricket.
Magic.
It was always a solution, yet it also harbored the potential for disaster. Despite Luna’s small stature, she felt the weight of this decision pressing down on everyone.
Using magic was like gambling with Destiny, inviting unpredictable consequences. But doing nothing… that could be tantamount to a death sentence.
Aelia looked at Lucius, her expression inscrutable.
This was his wife, his child.
The final decision rested in his hands.
“What are the risks?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Tell me everything.” Poor man, he looked on the verge of breaking down.
The Midwife detailed the various possibilities: a weak Magic Core at birth, the mother’s life force depleted, or even… Stillborn.
Each word struck like a hammer, shattering the last fragile glimmer of hope.
Luna furrowed her brow, a surge of… indescribable emotion rising within her.
Was it frustration?
Was it anger?
Perhaps it was both.
Why does everything in this world have to be so complicated? Aelia felt Luna's distress and held her tightly. "There must be another way... any way will do," she insisted, her voice laced with desperate pleading.
In that moment, Luna understood. She realized that even though she was just a tiny infant, she could still make a difference. She might be small and powerless in many ways, but she possessed knowledge—knowledge about this world, knowledge about magic... perhaps, just perhaps, that would be enough to change everything.
She opened her mouth and let out a sound so faint it was almost inaudible. Though it was nothing significant, it was a start. It was a promise—a promise that she would not let this family or this world fall apart, as long as she could help.
The servant's words crashed over them like a tidal wave, enveloping the already fearful study in a new wave of panic. "Madam... she..." the poor fellow stammered, his eyes darting around like a trapped bird. "Her condition is dire! There are complications with the delivery!"
Though Luna was still an infant cradled in arms, she understood the weight of those words. A tremor coursed through her small body, like a slight disturbance of magic. Being reborn into this chaotic world was already a gamble; she had experienced firsthand that even with the embellishment of magic, life could easily unravel.
Her once rosy cheeks turned as pale as old parchment, reflecting the fear deep within her. This was not just sympathy for the poor woman in labor; it reminded her vividly of her own perilous birth, starkly highlighting how thin and fragile the line between life and death truly is.
Luna's anguish washed over Aelia like a bucket of ice water, momentarily dousing her fiery anger towards that despicable husband. The instinct of motherhood—raw and powerful—immediately took precedence. She held Luna close, tightly embracing her; in this emotional storm, Luna felt like her lifeline.
"Shh, little star," she softly hummed amidst the chaos, her voice soothing like a balm. "Everything will be alright. We will make sure of it." These words were meant for Luna but also for herself, serving as a fragile shield against the encroaching darkness.
The child's pure and untainted fear resonated deeply within Aelia, stirring a strong connection between them in the face of life's unpredictable blows. They shared a common vulnerability.
Curled up in Aelia's warm embrace, Luna's trembling gradually subsided, replaced by a fragile determination. Her tiny fingers clutched tightly at Aelia's skirt, burying themselves in the thick fabric like a drowning person grasping for a lifeline.
"Will... will she be alright?" she whispered, her voice nearly drowned out by the pounding of her own heart.
The weight of the question hung heavily in the air, revealing the child's innate kindness; her concern for a stranger outweighed her own worries. This resonated with the silent prayers in everyone's hearts, as they all desperately hoped for a happy ending in an increasingly hopeless situation.
Aelia felt a tumult of emotions within her. On one hand, she was worried about the woman in labor; on the other, she was consumed by intense anger over her husband's betrayal. She couldn't provide a definitive answer. Instead, she offered Luna a comforting embrace, silently promising to do everything in her power.
"We must go to her," she said, her voice imbued with a newfound urgency. The chaotic study filled with shattered trust was instantly cast aside from her mind. The crisis at hand demanded her attention; it was a tangible problem she could address, providing a welcome relief from the emotional battlefield within her.
Aelia held Luna tightly and decisively stepped out of the room, her pace quick and determined, her focus entirely on the delivery room. The hurried sound of her footsteps echoed the rapid beat of her heart, and the air thickened with mounting anxiety.
The usually bustling corridors of the castle were eerily silent, servants huddled in corners like frightened rabbits, whispering to one another with worried expressions. A palpable tension filled the atmosphere, an ominous unease enveloping them like a spider's web casting shadows around.
With each step they took, they drew closer to the source of their anxiety, closer to the heart of the crisis. As they navigated through the labyrinthine hallways, distant cries of pain from the delivery room grew louder and more urgent, each scream piercing Aelia's already frayed nerves like a sharp thorn.
Luna sensed the escalating tension and buried her face deeper into Aelia's neck, her small body tensing with fear. The once vibrant colors on the castle walls seemed to fade into indistinct shades of dullness; the world beyond their immediate focus became trivial.
At that moment, reaching the delivery room was paramount; they needed to provide comfort and support as best they could. Finally, they arrived at the door, where muffled breaths and hurried whispers seeped through the thick wooden barrier.
Aelia paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob. After a moment's hesitation, she summoned her courage. Taking a deep breath to prepare for what lay ahead, she pushed open the door…
Inside was a scene of chaos; anxious faces and tense whispers filled the room. A woman drenched in sweat was issuing commands loudly. Another woman wrung her hands, panic etched across her face. Then, a weary and desperate voice broke through the tension.
"Is there… is there anything else we can do?"
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