The air crackled with the frantic cries of a woman. Each agonized wail was just the echo of the actual pain her body felt as it was being split in half. Amidst her cacophony of suffering, a man's voice was woven through her turmoil, a steady stream of reassurance and encouragement, offering some relief in the face of that pain only a woman can endure.
But this wasn't merely a duet of agony and support. Another voice, feminine, raspy, and entirely commanding, inserted itself with unyielding commands, demanding strict compliance from the woman amidst her torment. The woman's cries intensified, mirroring the escalating volume of the raspy voice that urged her onward until, at last, a new sound pierced the air—the bright cries of new life!
As the baby's cries filled the house, the sharpness of the raspy voice softened, replaced with a tone saturated with pride and affection for the woman's incredible strength. Gratitude poured from the man's lips, but the raspy voice hushed him, urging him to attend to the woman, expecting no further gratitude than what they'd already given before bidding them farewell.
The raspy voice left the house and glanced down at her young companion. The little one was barred from witnessing the miracle of life due to her own young life, and a pout decorated the child's face—though the sight was quite adorable.
"Come along, young one," the raspy voice said, extending a weathered hand for the child to hold.
"Granny," the tiny crimson-haired girl began as they walked away from the house they had stayed at only for the night. "Could you at least explain how babies are made?"
"Are you even old enough to desire such knowledge, young one?" Granny chuckled softly, her voice raspy, not merely from age but from the deep well of wisdom she'd acquired over those numerous years.
"Yes, Granny! And you always give me the same teasing response!" the child protested, her tiny feet stomping as she glanced up at Granny with a pout that only amused Granny.
"Now, don't let a bit of teasing upset you so much, even if you look adorable when you're riled up. I swear...you only show your age when I withhold knowledge," Granny laughed, revealing a toothless grin. "Okay, I'll satisfy your curiosity. Come close."
They stopped, and the child turned to face Granny, gazing into her deep, dark blue eyes that sparkled with wisdom. Her hair was short and silvery-gray, retaining a soft and silky texture. Time had long bent Granny's spine and wrapped her in layers of warm clothing, even under the Sun's warmth, yet her mind...her mind was sharp as ever.
"Babies, you see, are made from love," she whispered to the child, pulling back to gauge the reaction. But the disgruntled expression she received told her the answer wasn't enough. "I see you're not content with that. Your greed knows no bounds, does it?"
"No jokes, Granny! How does love make a baby!" the girl shouted.
"The love I speak of is special..." Granny replied, gently patting the girl's head as she sought the right words. "It's a blaze...alive, pulsating deep within the heart. It leaps from one heart to another. In a maiden, it grows until it brings forth something...something miraculous. Find your heart, they used to say, and you'll find the one..."
"You're just not going to tell me, are you?" the girl questioned, her expression soured by Granny's evasion.
Granny chuckled. "Of course not! What sort of young lady would I be to explain such things to a child? Ask me again when you're older—"
"What if you're not here? Like Mama! You're not young, Granny..." the girl's voice faltered, tears welling in her eyes.
Granny embraced her immediately. "I'm not going anywhere, young one," she whispered reassuringly, holding her close. "I'll be here...I'll always be with you..."
YOU ARE READING
The Duke's Secrets
FantasyFor a decade, the Northern Dukedom of Blakemore has endured the iron-fisted rule of Duke Dominic Samael Blakemore, a ruthless ruler who conceals his face behind a menacing horned mask. Those who have seen him described him as a towering and slender...
