Mated to Morpheus

o.MTM.6

the first sign of failure

There was a whole new world emerging from within the infant's violet eyes—bright enough to bring her oblivious mother down to her knees. Áine smiled at her eldest creation, basking in her now greatest accomplishment as she thought of her other offspring who were resting nearby. Their cribs were pretty, made of mahogany wood. The babies were successful—even born crying.

Their conception was a miracle to both mortals and immortals alike, and to some, a calamity. Such a dangerous feat was interpreted as a cataclysm by more than enough simply because they viewed it as being aberrant, and perhaps as a deed that would bring nothing but chaos to the future. Áine kept her project a secret from those who could have threatened to not only expunge her research but ban her from the assignment altogether. After the children were finally deemed prosperous, however, no one could bring themselves to morally eradicate them. And, although the children only shared DNA with each other, they were still connected to Áine through her blood, sweat, and tears that she used to bring their lives into existence. They were unlike most legacies—children of the divine—but that did not make them any less so in the eyes of the Gods. They brought great promise to Áine.

Áine unwrapped the blanket from the newborn's chest—suddenly wondering if the cashmere was too suffocating or restrictive. She grinned from one ear to the other, wide and commanding, as she watched her daughter flail her stubby arms out with an enthusiastic giggle. There was energy to her movements that indicated having the natural strength of a leader, a feature that she needed them all to gain at some point in time. Áine imagined how the child must have felt in that very moment, especially since she had watched her daughter spend most of her life forcibly locked into a fetal position as she grew. And, grew. And, grew. And, grew. The response was instantaneous, which proved that the child was ready to be introduced to the world that thrived outside of their little, hidden room. Áine pressed her full lips against her daughter's forehead, kindling a flare between the two souls.

This motherly feeling completely captivated Áine. With an addictive grasp, it devoured her purpose. Through a whisper against the soft skin of her daughter's face, she placed a promise onto her, "There will never be another quite like you, neither will there ever be someone who could best you in my heart and in my mind. If you stay by my side, then you and your siblings will be untouchable in this spiteful world—because, Kovina, you are the light of my life."

Áine slowly opened the door, and innocent shards of light filtered themselves into the dark room. The faces of the other children glowed.

"This is our domain, Kovina." She spoke to her daughter through a content hum that lulled the child into a silent state of bliss, and comfort, "Much like the beings that already reside here, you will also flourish and become prosperous as you become familiar with the land around us. There are many here who have been expecting you, who have been praying for your abilities to evolve, and have sending you well wishes from a distance. Kovina, this is where you will become the one you are destined to be—my saviour."

Kovina gurgled as her mother stepped further into the heat of the sun, increasing their shared warmth until it began to burn Kovina's delicate form. As they continued to venture into the light, Kovina's fingers began to itch with an immense pain, and an ache started to travel uncomfortably throughout her small body. She kept a piercing cry repressed in the back of her throat, fastened deep within her chest.

While Kovina's spirit withered, Áine thought about how the bundle in her arms felt so little compared to anything else she has ever carried. However, she did not seem minuscule in importance. She understood what it meant to cherish life's blessings, and even what it meant to create them, but nothing was ever like this. Áine has held large plants with vines that lingered and begged to touch the sky, beautiful flowers with frighteningly barbed stems, and petite trees that liked to tell stories. Yet, nothing felt as right as the body shaking in her arms—until she began to feel uneasy about it. She tucked a strand of her thick hair behind her ear as her nerves twitched and warned her to worry. She stilled as she felt Kovina start to make increasingly rough movements, jolting and turning.